Deserve (11 page)

I hurry past the few students still studying late, smiling
at them when they wave. Once my room door closes behind me, I allow my face to
crumple. I sit on my bed and raise my knees. Resting my chin on my folded
forearms, I take a few shuddering breaths. I stare blindly at the white walls.
My eyes are dry and burning.

This is not going to make me cry.

When I was five, my mom tried to explain to me why I didn’t
have a father like the other kids in my class. She said it wasn’t my fault that
he was gone—that the flaw lay with him—but as a child, my
understanding was simple. My father didn’t want his family.

He didn’t want
me
.

As I grew older, my understanding became more nuanced.
Intellectually I knew it wasn’t black and white. I knew my parents’ marriage
was unhappy. I didn’t remember anything about him, but
Cael
recalled often finding Aaron Jackson passed out, reeking of cheap booze and
cigarettes. He wasn’t the most engaged parent to begin with, but after a few
drinks, he wouldn’t know if the house burned down. He and my mom used to fight
on a daily basis and they were both miserable.

So, yeah.
In my head, I knew it
wasn’t a great loss that he was out of our lives. As young as he was,
Cael
took on the burden of being the man of the house and
he was an amazing brother.
Is
an
amazing
brother.

But in my heart, it’s not as clear-cut. Sometimes that
little girl with abandonment issues emerges and I freaking hate it. I hate
her
.

I’ve taken enough psychology classes to know I still have a
lot of insecurities. Whenever I feel rejected, I have to fight phantoms from my
past. I have to tell myself that the feelings of inadequacy are all in my head.

“Sean doesn’t want you. And the world is not ending,” I
whisper to myself.

I squeeze my eyes tightly, refusing to cry. I will cry for
many things, but I refuse to waste my tears on that abandoned little girl.

***

“Do you want another drink, Maggie?”

Recalled to my surroundings, I gaze at my empty
glass,
surprised I had finished my drink. I don’t even
remember taking the first sip and my mind was still way too lucid. I don’t want
to be drunk off my ass, but I’d like to at least feel a buzz. I look into soft
brown eyes and feign a smile. “Sure, Cory.”

He grins and stands up, his hair flopping into his eyes. He
looks like a twelve-year-old boy. “I’ll be right back.”

Staring after his retreating back, I castigate myself for
being such glum company. The whole point of coming out to the club was to
forget about my problems, not to brood about them, but I can’t seem to get out
of my funk. I look around at the dark converted warehouse, full of young
college students seeking oblivion in the pumping music, the plentiful alcohol,
and the uninhibited company. They all look ecstatic to be here on a Friday
night, whereas I’m starting to think I should have curled up in my room with a
good book.

A laughing Todd slides into the booth with Antonio right
behind him and I smile tightly. Hopefully in the dark, they can’t see how false
it looks.

“Why aren’t you shaking that cute ass on the dance floor,
Hot Tamales?” Todd asks in between gulps of air.

“Because your moves would put me to shame,” I tease. “I’d
look like a chicken on crack next to you.”

Antonio laughs and sings, “He’s got the moves like
Jagger
.”

“
Aww
…” Todd turns to his boyfriend
and gives him a smooch. “Thanks, babe.”

Watching them stare into each other’s eyes, I can’t help but
feel a pang of envy. Their love for each other is so unabashed and open. At
first glance, most people are surprised to see them as a couple because while
Todd’s looks are dazzling, Antonio’s are…well not. If I were to be unkind, I’d
say he looks ordinary, but after spending a mere ten minutes with them, I knew
they were perfect for each other. What they had was deep and abiding and it
made everyone around them long to find the same thing.

Another reason I
should have stayed home,
I think to myself with an inward sigh. I could
have enjoyed the pity party going on in my head in the comfort of my own bed.

“Cut it out, you two,” says Hannah as she walks up to the
table, holding hands with Calvin. Looking gorgeous in a sexy black bustier and
tight jeans, she pouts playfully. “You’re making the rest of us jealous.”

Todd smiles, taking no offense. “I can’t help that I have
the world’s best boyfriend.”

“
Aww
…” Antonio looks like he’s
going to turn into a puddle. Another smooch.

Feeling Calvin’s light blue eyes rove over me, my skin
crawls and I regret wearing the skimpy top and tight pants I bought on a whim
yesterday. As he slides into the booth next to me, I suppress a shudder of
distaste and scoot closer to Todd.

“You look nice tonight, Maggie,” Cal whispers lowly to me. I
suck in a breath, smelling his strong cologne, and dart a glance at Hannah, but
she’s looking at the dance floor. A hand trails up my thigh and I spring out of
my seat, feeling my body revolt with disgust. I say loudly, “Todd, stop
molesting Antonio and come teach me some of your moves.”

“Ugh…I’m wiped, girl. I need a break.” Todd turns and spots
Cory returning with my drink. “Hey Cory, go dance with Maggie.”

Cory’s eyes light up and I feel an uncomfortable sensation
in my stomach. He’s made his interest clear to me, but I’ve always pretended I
didn’t see it.

Doesn’t it feel nice
to be with someone who’s into you?

Grabbing the drink from him, I take a big gulp and place the
now half-empty glass onto the table. I smile as the alcohol starts to affect
me, making my head fuzzy and my limbs loose.

I pull my lips into a big smile and hold my hand out to
Cory. “Come dance with me, Cory.”

Grinning eagerly, he takes my hand. When our fingers touch,
there is no tingling sensation, but there is warmth and acceptance.

Thanks for the
invitation, but I won’t be able to make it. Midterms are starting and I need to
study.

My insides twist with self-recrimination as I stare at
Maggie’s polite text response.

This is the third invitation she’s turned down with a
stilted excuse about school and I want to kick my ass for causing the rift
between us.

I should never have kissed her, but when she looked at me
with that soft light in her eyes, I swore I lost all common sense. As I bent to
kiss her, a part of my wanted her to slap my face, but the bigger part of me
wanted her to open her mouth so that I could finally taste her.

And when she did part her lips…God…she tasted like pure
goodness on my tongue. Sweet and innocent, with a faint trace of chocolate from
her chick drink.
And her signature cinnamon.
Utterly delicious.

She was too damn good for me, but in that moment I didn’t
care about anything except for imprinting her flavor into on my tongue.

My hands still remember the feel of her firm ass cheeks as
she rolled her hips against my erection. She made me so goddamn hard, I was
afraid I would come in my tuxedo pants. Had we not been interrupted, I would
not have been able to stop. I would have dragged her to my apartment and taken
everything she had to offer. And demanded more.

Hell, maybe I would have risked public indecency and taken
her in the backseat of my car like a horny teenager.

The text from
Cael
had been a
splash of arctic water on my libido. Guilt and regret had crashed over me like
the proverbial ton of bricks. I was such a fucking asshole for putting the
moves on her. Little did
Cael
know the biggest danger
to his sister in big, bad New York, was big, bad
me
.

It has been one month and five days since I last saw her.

I know I’m fucked in the head when I have been counting the
days, but there’s an internal clock that I can’t turn off. Time and distance
were supposed to cure me of my addiction to her, but I don’t know how much
longer I can last. I’m ready to say screw it and—

Whack!

“
Ow
!” I raise my hand and rub the
back of my head, glaring at my partner. At least he’s diverting me from my
circular thoughts. “Fucker! You know that shit can cause brain damage.”

Letting out a loud snort, Marc leans against my desk and
crosses his arms over his chest. “Too late. Irreparable damage at birth.”

I give him the finger as I swivel around to face him. “What’s
up?” I ask, knowing he has a reason to interrupt me.

He grins widely. “I think Sheena Lewis is ready to talk to
us.”

“Yeah?” I stand up, excitement drumming through my body at the
possible breakthrough. For months, we have been frustrated in our efforts to
find a credible witness to the murder of sixteen-year-old Leanne Martin. God,
she was too damn young.

The slim blonde had only been on the streets for a month
before she caught the eye of Diego Carmona. The bloodthirsty, sociopathic gang
leader is known to enjoy inflicting pain on his sexual partners, but Leanne had
decided it was easier to cater to his deviant needs than to sell her body to
different men every night.

A week later, she was found in a dark alley. Naked.
Brutalized. Dead.

Even the most hardened among us had almost thrown up at the
sight of the victim’s mutilated body.

Carmona is one of the most cruelly violent men I’ve ever
encountered in my years of law enforcement. In the past, other murder victims have
been linked to him, but the bastard is a master at evading justice. This is the
closest we have come to pinning something on him, but the evidence is
circumstantial. The only reason he’s in jail is because his knife was found
next to the body. The bastard claims he gave it to Leanne to defend herself,
but we suspect someone interrupted him that night. Our best bet for putting the
sick fuck away is to find the person who came on the scene.

We believe Sheena Lewis is the only witness to the crime and
we need her testimony badly.

“Yeah,” Marc nods, the same avid gleam in his eyes. “Said
over the phone that she didn’t see anything, but I could hear something in her
voice.”

“Hot damn,” I say softly. “When is she willing to meet?”

Nodding toward the old-fashioned clock on the wall, Marc
replies, “In an hour. She wants us to meet at a friend’s place. Said she didn’t
feel comfortable having cops at her apartment.”

Calculating the travel time to the address, I stand up and
grab my jacket. “Then let’s get going.”

“I’ll drive.”

Two hours later we walk out of a nondescript house in Queens,
feeling optimistic about the case for the first time. Sheena had been rattled
and gave away very little during the hour-long interview, but I could sense her
weakening when I showed her the photos of Leanne’s body.

“I don’t know how the fuck you do it. The Witness Whisperer
strikes again,”
Marc
says with a hint of admiration in
his voice.

“That’s asinine,” I say, amused and annoyed by the moniker.
Amused because the skills I use to cajole criminals and witnesses to talk are
the same ones I use when I socialize with my father’s cronies. That little
tidbit would irritate my father no end. Annoyed because Marc has no idea how
much I hate this side of myself—the manipulative, calculating bastard who
would do anything to get what he wants.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it, but you get them to
talk.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Especially the ladies.”

“It’s called training.”

“Who knew talking skanks out of their pants would help with
your job,” he says in a mock wondering tone and I swipe my leg out, nearly
knocking his feet from under him.

“What the fuck!” Marc sputters as he stumbles to prevent his
ass from hitting the ground.

“Don’t disparage women. Didn’t your Nona teach you any
better?”

Shame darkens his face at my reprimand and I hide my smirk
at his mumbled apology.
So damn predictable.
Mention
any of the women in his life and all his bravado deflates.

“Do you think she’ll be willing to testify?”

Remembering the pain in Sheena’s eyes as she talked about Leanne,
I nod slowly. I think Sheena sees a younger version of herself in Leanne. “Not
yet, but I think she’ll do the right thing in the end.”

“Thank fuck because this case has been dragging forever. I
want the motherfucker to go away for three lifetimes.”

“Me too.” I want Carmona to rot in jail for the rest of his
life. Then he can go to the depths of hell.

“It’s pretty late. Let’s not go back to the office.” Marc’s
shoulders droop wearily as we climb into the car and I’m surprised to see that
it’s already seven p.m.

“Okay, just drop me off so I can pick up my car.”

“Oh, hell no! You’re going to end up going into the office
to file this report and never leave. I’ll find your husk of a body on Monday
morning and then they’ll saddle me with some asshole who doesn’t know the
barrel of his gun from his own sphincter.”

“When did you become a fucking drama queen?” I can’t help
but chuckle at his graphic description.

“
Nuh
-uh. You’ve been working
insane hours. No, you’re coming over to have dinner at my place. Then I’ll drop
your ass off at home or you can take the car.”

“I can’t just show up and ask Laurel to feed me.”

“While we were on the way to the interview, I already let
her know we were working late. She was the one who invited you. If it were up
to me, you wouldn’t come within five feet of my wife, but if she wants you
there, I’m willing to stomach you.” The look of concern he shoots me belies his
complaint.

Loath to intrude on his time with his wife, I start to
decline, but then I imagine walking into my big, empty apartment and I say,
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll take any opportunity to see Laurel’s beautiful face.”

Whack!

“
Ow
!” Laughing, I rub at the back
of my head. “Stop hitting me or I’ll tell Laurel to kiss it and make it
better.”

“Fucking horn dog,” he mutters and starts the car.

“How did you convince someone as gentle as
Laurel
to go out with you in the first place?” The question
starts out as teasing, but a serious note creeps in toward the end. The
couple’s devotion has always fascinated me, especially considering the
difference in their personalities and backgrounds. As the only daughter of a
wealthy hedge-fund manager, Laurel attended the finest schools, socialized with
the upper echelons of New York society, and exuded elegance from every pore.
Marc is a rough-faced, rough-mannered ex-hooligan with zero finesse and few
social graces. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of
Cael
.

“My charm, of course. Swept her off her feet with my first
words.”

I snort and say, “Let me guess.” Lowering my voice, I grunt
like a caveman and point at my chest. “Me dumbass. You pretty.”

His lips twitch and he says mildly, “You’re a dick.”

“No, seriously, tell me how you and Laurel got together.”

He slants me a look. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.” I pause and look out the window. “Laurel and you
are…solid.
An unbreakable unit.
Did you know from the
very start?”

“Fuck no! Are you fucking kidding me? I took one look at her
and I said to myself: ‘This woman is too good for me.’”

I jerk around to stare at him, his words striking a chord.
“You didn’t turn tail and run the other way?”

“Hell yeah, I did. I mean not literally because it was my
friend’s bachelor party after all, but I saw her perfect hair, perfect manners,
perfect everything, and knew she was way out of my league.” Waving his hand up
and down his body, he says drily, “I know. Hard to imagine when I’ve been so
blessed.”

“Arrogant fuck,” I mutter with smirk.

“But it was no use. I kept staring at her all night. I
finally grew a pair, walked up to her and offered to buy her a drink. What was
the worst that could happen? I think my jaw dropped to the floor when she
agreed. At the end of the night, she gave me her number. I thought she gave me fake
digits to be polite, but when I called, she answered. She said yes to a date.
And she kept saying yes,” he says wonderingly, as if he still finds it hard to
believe. “Each time we went out, I was sure she would realize I couldn’t tell a
salad fork from a soup ladle and dump my ass. I avoided talking about my past
and tried to be on my best behavior. And after each date, I patted myself on
the back for fooling her one more time.” He laughs self-deprecatingly.

I have never heard Marc sound so vulnerable. “How did you
make it work if you felt like you had to hide a part of yourself?”

He scoffs and glances at me. “Have you ever tried to hide
something from a woman?”

“No,” I say honestly, not divulging that I’ve never had a
relationship where the woman and I wanted to share anything besides our bodies.

Except with one
redheaded sprite.
Just thinking about Maggie has every muscle in my body
tightening.
God, I miss her.

“Well, let me tell you that shit is impossible. I don’t know
how she did it, but we met in July and by Thanksgiving, she and my mom and
sisters were like this.” He holds up his entwined forefinger and middle finger.
“And you know my sisters…can’t keep their big mouths shut worth shit so I
thought the jig was up for sure, but Laurel just laughed at their stories.” He
shakes his head slowly. “To this day, it still feels like a fucking dream, you
know what I mean? I wake up each day, expecting that today is the day she’ll
come to her senses and realize what an asshole I am.”

“Don’t the doubts drive you crazy?”

“Sure, but what’s the alternative? Not being with her? Fuck
that!” The look he gives me is too shrewd and knowing by far. “I think I
finally figured out why you’ve been working like a fiend. It’s a woman, isn’t
it?”

I remain silent, not sure how to answer.

“You don’t need to say anything, Rowan. I can tell from that
lost-puppy look on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t look like a puppy.” I fight the
urge to pull down the visor to check my reflection.

“Deny it all you want. I know the look.”

“You don’t know jack shit.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Aha! I knew it was someone.” He sends me a gotcha look.
“What’s holding you back?”

I pause. The words shaping slowly on my lips, I ask, “Have you
ever thought that maybe Laurel would have been better off…”

“With someone else? Maybe some
asshat
with an MBA and a seven-figure salary?”

Exhaling, I nod. “Yeah. Not that I don’t think you guys are
great together, but…” I shrug, unable to finish the thought.

His lips flatten and his eyes narrow. “Sure, I’ve thought
about it and then I fantasize about how I’d bury him so deep, they’d have to
dig to Australia to find him. I know there are a million guys who would line up
to be with Laurel if I weren’t in the picture and ninety-nine percent of them would
fit into her world. They’d be able to talk to her mom about the opera and to
her dad about the latest merger, but it’s too damn bad because I’m not going
anywhere,” he says, looking like a bulldog.

Pulling into a parking space in his garage, he turns off the
engine and looks at me. “You have two choices. One: go after this girl. Or two:
don’t. If you don’t, ask yourself how you would feel if you bumped into her
with her new boyfriend or her husband?”

At the thought of seeing Maggie with Cory Michaels—kissing
him, touching him—rage sweeps through me, hot and violent.

Eyes locked on my face, Marc smirks. “Yeah, that’s what I
thought.” He cocks his head
consideringly
. “This is
the first time I’ve seen you so unsure about a chick.”