Someone To Believe In (28 page)

“How did you arrange this?”

“Need you ask?” He winked at her. “Meet you
two in the car.”

CLAY WAS AT work late the following
Tuesday and went online. He saw on his buddy list that she was up
and running.
Hey, IrishCream, how are
you?

Hanging in there. Rory’s still flying about
the game.

Me, too,
he
teased.
I’m glad they won.

That’s not what I mean. He’s sleeping with
the ball Jeter gave him. He’s in seventh heaven.

When he’s old enough, I’ll have to set the
boy straight on what’s really seventh heaven in bed.

A long pause. She’d ignore this, he knew. She
always did when he brought up the future. And it was wearing on
him. Every day he wanted more of her.

You can’t ignore the future, honey.

We’re not sure there is a future.

I’m sure! I wish you were.

Are we going to fight now?

Maybe.

I don’t want to fight with you online. Only
in person, where we can make up in bed.

Which happened all the time and was beginning
to worry Clay. Sex was great, but he wanted all of her, not just
her body. Turning away from the computer, he caught sight of a memo
from Chuck Stewart to the party chair. He’d copied Clay in on the
missive declaring he did not want to be considered as a candidate
for VP In it, he also suggested Clay be the front-runner.

Clay, are you still on?

Yes.
He
searched for a neutral ground.
How’s
Patrick?

Sad. He misses Brie and the kids. Separation
is hard. He has them for my birthday party, but Brie won’t be with
them.

Hell, he didn’t even know when her
birthday was.
Your birthday
party?

Yeah.

And I’m not invited, right?

Clay, you can’t come to that. The party’s at
the pub and everybody who’s important in my life will be there.

Well, that puts me in my place.

I didn’t mean it that way.

I know. I’m sorry, this is hard for me.

I’m sorry, too. Can’t we just avoid
conversations like this for now?

I suppose we should.
He fingered the memo from Stewart. If they did talk about the
future, he’d have to tell her about this and she sure as hell
wasn’t ready to handle that.

I wish I could see you now.

I’ll be in town for the task force meeting in
a few days.

Where he’d vote against her on
allocation of funds.
I know. Can you come
in a day early?

Why?

We could celebrate my
birthday privately. And because I miss you.
She
paused.
I think it would be a good idea to
be together, be close, the night before the vote.

All right, see you then.

After he disconnected, he stared into space,
thinking about the vote—where he’d block her funds for Guardian.
And about the memo regarding the vice presidency. Clay stood and
crossed to the window. The odds seemed impossible tonight as he
stared out at the street, quiet at midnight. How could they ever
mesh their lives?

But what was the alternative? Never see her
again? A montage of pictures flashed through his mind: her with
her baseball cap and glasses on; her face distraught as she told
him things she never told anyone else; her asleep, next to him.

No way in hell was he going to accept that
they didn’t have a future together. He’d find a way to keep her in
his life—and pursue his career.

FIFTEEN

“YOU THINK YOU so tough,” the Anthrax gang
chick spat out to Taz. “Let’s see what you can do with the rag.”
She whipped out a purple bandana.

The alley was dark, and Taz, Mazie, and Quinn
had been strolling down it, minding their own business, when three
members of Anthrax had leapt out of a doorway. They were all
flying their colors, so they weren’t peace-n, but they weren’t
looking for trouble, either. After dissing each other, there’d been
the challenge.

Mazie reached into her pants and drew
out the
fila
she always
carried at her waist, like a cell phone. “Here you go, Tazzie.” She
tossed the knife to Taz. “You go, girl.”

No way out of this one, Taz thought as she
caught the knife. The cold steel felt foreign in her hand. She
dropped the gin she’d been drinking straight out of the bottle and
unzipped her jacket. Her heart thudded in her chest, but if she
ignored Mazie’s command, she was in deep shit. This time, she had
to get down.

She fingered the blade, while the
other
chola
got herself ready.
In minutes they were bent at the waist, each with one hand behind
her back, the opposite tips of the rectangular bandana in their
mouths. Taz was so close, she could see the red eyes and smell the
sweat of the other banger.

The cunt took the first pass, missing Taz.
Taz struck back before the girl could snatch her hand away and drew
blood.

“Son of a fucking bitch.”

Taz’s homies cheered.

Circling to the left, Taz planned her next
move; the girl, whose name was Annie-O, went to the right. Taz
stopped quick and got a nick in her leg. The rule was three hits
and you won. Nobody was supposed to buy it. This was a just a
ritual they played out when they happened upon each other.

The third time Taz lunged for the girl’s arm,
a siren in the background distracted her, and Annie-O bent low and
sliced her leg through her cargo pants.

Taz went down, the sirens got closer, and
everybody else boned out.

CLAY LAY NEXT to her, breathing hard. He’d
gotten in late and had missed seeing Rory; he and Bailey had headed
for the bedroom practically as soon as he got his suit coat off.
Both knew that tomorrow, when the Task Force would make its
decision, was going to be tough. But she fully believed they could
weather it. They’d gotten too close, shared too much, to let this
old argument separate them.

Her cell phone rang from the bedside table.
In the early morning stillness, it was shrill and startling.

“What the hell?” Clay frowned. “Who’d be
calling now?”

Bailey bolted up. “It’s either ESCAPE or
something’s happened in my family.” She grabbed the phone. “Bailey
O’Neil.”

“Bay, it’s Suze. We just got a call on the
hotline. Taz has been hurt.”

“Hurt? How?”

“A knife fight.”

“Where is she?”

“It happened on Houston and Allen. The
paramedics are taking her to a clinic. She called us on her
cell.”

“Okay.” She caught sight of Clay’s worried
face. “It’s the hotline,” she told him. The concern only
deepened.

“Joe and Rob are on their way to the Baden
Street clinic.”

“I’m going, too.”

“I wouldn’t have called but she’s asked
specifically for you. I had to promise I’d get in touch with you
before she’d tell me what happened.” Those kinds of promises had to
be kept or ESCAPE would lose its reputation.

“It’s fine. I want to know.”

“Keep me posted.”

Bailey clicked off. “I’ve got to go.”

Clay scowled. “Go? Where?”

“There’s been an incident.” She threw off the
covers and slid out of bed. Crossing to the dresser, she dragged
out some clothes. As she stuffed her legs in underwear and jeans,
she said, “It’s Taz. She’s been hurt. She called the hotline on her
cell.”

Clay sank onto the bed, scowling now. “You’re
kidding, right? You’re not really going out in the middle of the
night to rescue a gang kid.”

“Of course I am.” She slipped into a bra and
sweatshirt.

“You told me you wouldn’t see any gang kids
alone, Bailey.” His tone was curt.

“I won’t be alone. Rob and Joe are on their
way.”

“That makes it all right?”

“Yes, it’s almost like a Face-to-Face, which
I said I’d be doing.”

“Those are under strict security
conditions—or so you told me.”

“Clay, she’s hurt. I don’t know how badly.”
She found loafers and slipped into them.

“Hurt?”

“A knife fight.”

“Oh, this is just great.”

“Don’t start—”

After a moment, he said, “Let the paramedics
handle this!”

Raising her chin, she leveled an angry glare
on him. His shift back into a righteous autocrat was difficult to
handle right now. “No, I have to be there.”

He rose, strode to her, and spun her around.
“This is unsafe! You shouldn’t go.”

“Look, I don’t have time to walk you through
this.”

He stiffened. “Oh, well, sorry for my
concern.” His amber eyes flared with hot temper. “Do you have time
to make arrangements for your son? Or do you usually leave him
alone when you go play Charlie’s Angels in the middle of the
night?”

“I never leave him alone!” She felt her own
temper spike. “I’ll call Aidan if you won’t stay.”

He stared at her. She could tell he was
visibly reining himself in. Finally he said. “I’ll stay with
Rory.”

Standing on tiptoes, she gave him a hug,
hating this distance after they’d been so close earlier. “Thanks.
I’ll call you. And don’t worry, I’ll be safe.”

“Yeah, sure, I won’t worry.”

CLAY SAT IN the last Youth Gang Task
Force meeting waiting for Bailey to arrive. He had no idea what was
going to happen—either here or with his
life
, and he was edgy.

What he
did
know was that she’d not made it back to the
apartment before Rory went to preschool. She’d called and said she
was still tied up at the clinic; she was waiting with Taz to talk
to the police, then she was going to find a shelter for the girl to
stay in for the time being. She’d arranged for Aidan to come over
to get Rory off to school. It had been awkward at first when her
brother arrived...

“Aidan.”

“Hey, Clay,” Bailey’s brother glanced at
Rory. “Go brush your teeth and hair, kid. I’m takin’ you to
school.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Rory had been cranky since
he awakened and found his mother gone.

Clay had only told him she needed to go
out.

Aidan squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. His
warm expression reminded Clay of Bailey. “You know she gets called
out at night sometimes, honey.”

“Don’t like it,” Rory had declared before he
marched off to the bathroom.

“Neither do I.” Aidan had mumbled, looking
after the boy.

“Then why the hell do you allow this?”

Pivoting around, he’d faced Clay. “Because
she’s my sister and she makes her own choices.”

Clay paced the kitchen, ready to take a bite
out of someone’s ass. Aidan was the closest target. “I don’t
believe you condone her endangering herself like this.”

Her brother raked a hand through his hair.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. When you love somebody, you let
her make her own decisions and then you’re there for her when she
does.”

That had sobered him some. After Aidan poured
coffee, he turned and leaned against the counter. “Where’s all this
going with you two, Clay? You’re here again. You obviously care
about her.”

“I do.”

Aidan studied him. “You in for the long
haul?”

Clay waited before he answered. “I thought I
was. But this...” He gestured to the whole apartment “I’m not sure
I could live like this—calls in the middle of the night, the
jeopardy she puts herself in.”

Aidan’s gaze was shrewd. “Then again, if
Bailey hooks up with you, she wouldn’t be living like this either.
If she was in the political eye, her whole life would have to
change.”

Which would be a good
thing
, he remembered thinking, but Rory returned ready
for school so he didn’t say it aloud; the O’Neils left him alone
with his angry thoughts.

Later, Bailey appeared in the doorway to the
meeting room. She’d changed into a plain pair of black slacks and
pink blouse and her hair was pulled off her face, which was lined
with exhaustion. Of course, she’d been up all night, and probably
spent all day—her day off—dealing with the gang girl. Just how she
wore herself down for these kids was enough to set Clay off, let
alone the danger she knowingly courted.

She searched the room; when her gaze landed
on him, she gave him a weak smile. He nodded, and she took the
empty seat at the end of the table.

Governor Friedman began the meeting. Soon,
they hit the crux of it. “Our committee needs to make a
recommendation for the money allocated to New York from the Youth
Crime Bill. I’d like everybody to put in their two cents, then
we’ll vote on the propositions.” He turned to Bailey. “You go
first, Ms. O’Neil.”

She picked up her notepad. “I’d like the
money to be divided according to size and the number of kids they
service among the existing social agencies in New York that deal
with gang prevention.” She hesitated. “With the exception of three
hundred thousand to go to setting up Guardian House. This would be
a prototype for other shelters, therefore, in the long run, it
would benefit all the agencies.”

Clay stepped up to the plate. “You’ll need
more than that to open a shelter.”

“I’ve got other money.”

“From where?”

“All right, you two,” Governor Friedman said.
“Discussion comes after brainstorming.”

Several people had recommendations. Lawson
suggested a clinic just for gang kids, which never would fly.
Finally, it was Clay’s turn. “It’s no secret I object to the
singling out of shelters or clinics for youths involved in
juvenile crime. I do however, concur with Ms. O’Neil’s initial
proposal. The agencies we have are good, solid ones. The money from
Stewart’s bill should go to them.” He looked pointedly at Bailey.
“All of it. I’ll even concede to letting ESCAPE have some of our
funds. But I’ll never agree to let her build Guardian.”