“She needs to go.”
Alan sat up. “I’m not making her leave!”
“She’s not a stray cat. She’s a mobster’s girlfriend, for chrissake.”
“She’s a mobster’s
ex
-girlfriend.”
“Oh, yeah, like
that
doesn’t complicate things!” Jerald stood and jabbed his finger at Alan. “First thing tomorrow morning, you put her on a freaking Greyhound to anywhere and don’t stick around to find out where. That way you won’t end up in the line of fire.”
“No.”
Jerald’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, no?”
“N. O. Spelled just like that.”
“You’re going to risk yourself over someone you don’t know?”
“Jer, talk to her tomorrow. Please? If you’d just seen her when I found her—”
“I’ve seen desperate gratitude before. It comes as an unfortunate part of my job’s territory. It doesn’t mean I bring every person who expresses it home with me.”
Alan studied his face. “You’re jealous.”
Jerald’s eyebrows arched. “What?”
“Yeah. You’re jealous that I brought her home.”
“What the fuck? No, I’m not. I’m worried about your safety.”
“She’s not going to hurt me. She can barely stand, much less walk.”
“No, but the Scorsini family, they find out she’s here, they
will
hurt you. Haven’t you been paying attention to the news? The father’s up for a whole law dictionary full of charges, including the RICO act. They’re not throwing the book at him, they’re chucking the whole goddamned Library of Congress in his general direction to hopefully make something stick. The guy’s so slippery he makes Gotti look like Velcro instead of Teflon.”
Alan stood and rounded the table. He put his arms around Jerald. “That’s sweet that you’re worried about me. You’ll keep me safe, tough guy.”
Jerald finally returned his embrace, hugging him tightly. “Man, you finally drag me kicking and screaming out of the closet and you’re putting yourself into the line of fire like this? I don’t like it.”
“We need to help her.”
Jerald remained quiet for a long time. “The only reason,” he finally said, “that I’m not filing an incident report on this right now is because it’s you. There’s no missing boater or missing person report on anyone remotely matching her description. I don’t have any proof to suspect she’s tied up in something illegal. My honest opinion is she’s either running a major scam, or there’s a hell of a lot more to her story and she’s scared shitless to say so. Either way, it’ll show up soon enough. Please, promise me you’ll be careful and not get suckered into something you have no business being involved in.”
“I promise.” Alan kissed him. “Let me make you dinner and take you to bed to make up for our missed barbecue.”
“No, I’d better go.” He tried to pull away but Alan wouldn’t let him.
“Why?”
Jerald’s face reddened in embarrassment. “It’s not like we can do anything,” he mumbled.
“Okay, dude, seriously? For one thing, she’s out like a light. She’s so exhausted we could probably have sex
in
bed with her and she wouldn’t wake up. For another, and frankly the most important point, it’s my house and you’re my boyfriend and she knows I have a boyfriend.”
Jerald kissed him, but still extricated himself from Alan’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable with someone else here. I didn’t have a big family like you did.”
What he didn’t say, Alan easily guessed. Jerald wasn’t comfortable boinking with someone on the other side of the wall, able to hear them. Even in a hotel he sometimes tended to freeze up a little.
Alan sighed and leaned in for one last kiss. “One of these days, I’m nailing that goddamned closet door shut so you can’t retreat anymore.”
“Sorry,” Jerald mumbled. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to talk to her.”
“I’ve got that charter.”
He nodded. “I’ll come by after you’re back. Give me a call when you get in.”
With that, Jerald left. Alan’s appetite left with the man. He plopped himself onto the couch to watch TV. He had sworn he would never get involved with someone like his father, who had a job that put them in danger or who was a workaholic and let his job take priority over their private time. And look what he did, fell ass over ankles for a cop just like his old man. A wildlife officer, sure, but marine patrol officers were still cops. In some ways, Jerald’s job was even worse than a land cop’s job. An investigation or rescue could take him out onto the Gulf in treacherous weather no person in their right mind would brave.
He’d also sworn, after a relationship ended badly a few years ago, that if he got seriously involved with a guy again, it wouldn’t be with a guy who wasn’t totally open and comfortable being out.
Strike two.
Still, Jerald was different than anyone he’d ever met, man or woman. The last woman Alan had dated had screwed him over. Not as badly as Jerald’s ex screwed him. Thank god he hadn’t been dumb enough to marry the woman. But she’d stolen his identity and nearly put him in the hole financially. Fortunately, he’d caught on to her early enough to prevent serious long-term damage.
In the long run, it didn’t matter if Jerald was gun-shy. Alan knew he’d wait as long as it took to totally coax Jerald into being fully comfortable with the public aspects of their relationship. Maybe Jerald came off as a stone-faced, stiff and personality-challenged cop to most everyone else, but Alan knew the truth. He had seen the man’s softer side.
He was the only one who’d seen it. Once Alan realized it, he knew he didn’t want anyone else in his life.
Chapter Four
Alan woke up at his normal time the next morning, a little before five, hating the feel of the wide swath of empty bed beside him. He preferred it when Jerald spent the night, even if all they did was sleep.
Waking up alone did not suit him well anymore. Not when Major Jerald Carter filled the other half of his king-sized bed so perfectly. He almost walked out of the bedroom naked when he remembered his house guest. He slipped on a pair of shorts.
Alan stood in the kitchen, waiting on the coffee to brew, when he heard the guest room door open. After an extremely long moment, the bathroom door shut. He went to look and sure enough, the office chair still sat by her bed.
He grabbed it and stood waiting with it outside the bathroom door. When she emerged, she flinched, startled to see him standing there.
He pointed at the chair.
Rolling her eyes and smiling, she sat. “Thank you, Dad.”
“I’m not old enough to be your dad. Big brother, maybe. You want to go back to bed, or would you like coffee and something to eat?”
Her stomach growled at the mention of food.
Alan laughed. “I think that answers that question.” He pushed her into the kitchen and over to the table. “You want cream and sugar?”
“Please.”
Daphne watched while Alan poured her coffee. Shirtless, his jersey knit shorts clung to his ass in a tantalizing way.
Gay with a boyfriend. Totally off limits. Gay with a boyfriend…
He turned from the counter with a mug in his hand. He brought it, a sugar bowl, a spoon, and a gallon of milk to the table. “There you go.”
“Why are you helping me? I mean, I really appreciate it, but I can leave,” she quietly said.
His expression grew serious, the playful look gone. “Listen,” he quietly said as he sat next to her, “do you honestly
have
anywhere else to go? Any family? Friends? Anyone?”
He reached out and gently turned her face to his, his fingers firm on her chin. She felt lost in his big brown eyes. “No,” she whispered.
She felt like a pitiful loser having to admit that. She had no family. When her best friend, Deanna, put two and two together and realized who Paulie was, she begged Daphne to leave him. When she wouldn’t, Deanna distanced herself.
“Then why not stay here with me, at least for a while? Unless that asshole is a psychic, he has no way of finding you here.”
She didn’t have an adequate comeback that wouldn’t force her to tell the truth. “Can I pay you rent or something?”
“Not right now. When you can get around again, you can do chores, help me with my paperwork, stuff like that.”
“I won’t stay long, I promise.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I hope you don’t mean that.”
He stood to make them breakfast, leaving her wondering what he meant.
* * * *
Alan thought about Daphne while he took his shower. After breakfast, he’d helped her to the living room couch and made her comfortable there. She could watch TV all day on the couch, chill out and not have as far to go to the kitchen. She broke down crying again, and even though he knew it would put him at a rush for time, he sat with her, holding her, soothing her until she calmed herself.
Why
was
he helping her?
What man in his right mind, straight or gay, could resist helping a pretty damsel so obviously in distress? He didn’t get a scam vibe from her. He felt a literally scared to death vibe.
He thought about his youngest little sister, Laurie. His mom and dad had adopted her when she was twelve.
Okay, color me psychoanalyzed.
Laurie had worn the same desperate, terrified look on her face when she first came to live with them at the age of six. He was fourteen then. They’d had several foster children, boys and girls, cycle in and out of their home over the years. The caseworker, Mrs. Calgary, had knocked on their door at ten that night with Laurie in her arms, the little girl desperately clutching the woman, refusing to let go.
Alan’s father had been a deputy in the small north Florida town Alan grew up in. A shortage of emergency foster homes in their area prompted his parents to sign up for the program. Laurie’s father had gotten very drunk one late May evening and beaten her mother to death before her eyes. She managed to lock herself in the bathroom of their small trailer and climb out the window to escape to a neighbor’s house. She had no other family.
Mrs. Calgary tried to hand her over to Alan’s mom and dad, but the little girl screamed, terrified to let go.
Alan had walked around behind Mrs. Calgary and smiled at the little girl without reaching for her. Then he talked to her for a couple of minutes, offered her a Twinkie and showed her one of his other sister’s stuffed animals. To her, he must have seemed a strangely safe version of an adult. Older than her but not threatening. She finally let him take her from Mrs. Calgary, but she clung to him, terrified to let go, holding on as tightly and desperately as she had to Mrs. Calgary. He carried her up to his parents’ bedroom where he and his mom stayed with her all night while his dad slept in Alan’s room. Laurie tightly clung to Alan, even in sleep.
His mom looked at him in the dim light, a sad smile on her face. “You’ve always had that special touch, Alan,” she’d whispered. “You’re a gentle soul. You’re always good with the kids. Don’t ever lose that.”
Over the next days and weeks, Laurie shadowed Alan, even waiting for him outside the bathroom, wanting to sleep in his room with him, not even wanting anything to do with his other two younger sisters. She insisted Alan stay with her when she talked to the caseworker and the counselors. Fortunately, by the time school started that fall, she had bonded to his parents and other siblings and wasn’t terrified to go to school.
To this day she still felt closer to him than anyone else in his family.
Daphne wore the same look when he found her out there in the sawgrass flats. Those same terrified hazel eyes. That same fear.
She’d looked death in the face, literally, and believed with all her heart and soul she’d die next.
He’d never told Jerald about the circumstances of Laurie’s adoption. They didn’t talk about it in their family. It wasn’t a secret, but Laurie had no desire to revisit that dark time in her life. It had taken her years to stop having nightmares. Alan couldn’t begin to count how many times he’d awoken to find Laurie had crawled into bed with him in the middle of the night when she had yet another night terror.
Alan knew no matter what, no way could he ever turn his back on Daphne if she would let him help. Standing by and doing nothing was absolutely not an option.
* * * *
Alan found her dozing when he returned to the kitchen after his shower, but she awoke at the sound of him getting ready. He wrote his cell and the neighbor’s numbers on a notepad and brought it and the house phone to the living room, where he laid them on the coffee table so she could reach them.
“Lucky thing I haven’t canceled the land line yet. I thought about doing it last month. That’s my cell number. Call me if you need me. If you get my voice mail, leave a message in case I didn’t hear it go off. If there’s an emergency, call my next door neighbor, Sharon. She’s usually home during the day and she’s got a key to get in. I already talked to her last night.”
He watched Daphne’s eyes haze over in fear. “Who did you tell her I was?”