Fight (7 page)

I shook my head. I'd told him a few things about my own dad once, and he'd shut me up about it. “We didn't talk about our childhoods. He didn't...” I shivered. ‘Didn't like to’ was an understatement. He'd about gone ballistic when I'd told him some of the out-of-control things my father did when he drank.

"He had an ugly childhood."

"Huh.” I'd figured that much out on my own. After that first violently aborted conversation, I didn't ask for details. That wasn't the kind of thing a person like Carl relived with impunity, and his pain never translated to something I could bear much of.

"Do you love him?” Vic's question caught me off-guard. His voice had changed; gone from cop to something else.

"What the fuck business is that of yours?” I should have been more angry, more violated he'd ask something like that. I was sitting in cuffs, on my way to who the hell knew what, and we were talking about goddamn fucking Carl. That indignation eclipsed a bit of my fear.

"It isn't,” he admitted. Yet he met my eye in the mirror, and I had the feeling he was still waiting for an answer.

And I didn't have one. Carl had beaten me, and, I had to admit, Lil was right. For all I hadn't resisted him, I hadn't wanted that last round. It hadn't been sex; just a form of violence that hurt less than fists or his belt. And he'd left me helpless and in danger. How could you love a man who did that? I broke the eye contact first. “He didn't start out that way..."

"They never do."

"Guess you hear this shit a lot, huh?"

Vic snorted. “You think hearing it over and over makes it any easier to listen to?"

"Probably just makes you wonder what all the saps are thinking, getting caught in it. You'd have to be an idiot to let it go that far."

"No one thinks you're an idiot, Paul."

I chewed on the inside of my lip and said nothing.

"Brian and Lil are just worried sick."

It all clicked into place. Of course. He knew Brian. He would know all about me. “Brian's a good guy. I doubt Lil worries about me any more than beyond my bad influence on his lover.” I had to give Lil credit, though. He was a lot more charitable about Brian's concern for me than I was about putting up with him.

A chuckle from the front seat startled me into drawing my gaze from the guard rail posts flinging past and back to the mirror. “You have no idea. Lil's been through shit. He knows bad times. He'd do for you even if Brian didn't ask, because he's been there.” Vic's deep brown eyes met mine again. “He and his brother, they had a lot in common.” He left the explanation dangling a moment as he pulled into the police station and around back, then shut off the engine. “Nothing hurts worse than making those mistakes, losing everything, and just when you think you're going to get back what's most important, having it torn away like what happened to him. He wouldn't sit back and watch it happen to someone else."

I nodded, understanding. Lil would do for me what he had to in order to protect Brian, to keep him from the pain of losing a brother, because essentially, blood or not, that's what we were to each other.

"I have to take you in now."

Like that. The fear slammed back into my gut, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Please don't do this.” Every nightmare Carl had visited on me screamed along my nerves at the thought of being surrounded by a dozen like him. “I don't know how...I didn't...I was at Brian's all night. On his couch. I—"

Vic pursed his lips, got out of the car, and came round to open my door.

I didn't move.

"Paul.” He said my name so softly. It almost sounded reassuring, and I looked up at him, squinting at the morning sun grinding into my eyes over his shoulder. He glanced around as though looking to see if anyone was watching, then he crouched down. “Will you trust me?"

I had a hard time keeping the dizzying panic away. I just stared at him.

"I am not going to let anything happen to you."

"Why would you even care? You don't know me."

He smiled, a self-deprecating expression, and dropped his gaze for a fraction of a second. “I'm in over my head here, Paul. I know you didn't do anything. I know it like I know my own name. I would and I will stake my reputation as a good cop on it, but I cannot ignore the law. If I do, I lose all the power I have to help you."

"No one in there is going to believe me."

Vic bit his lip, his face going grim enough to be an answer without his next words. “No. They want a perp. At this point, it doesn't matter who. Jason was a good cop, a good man, and he's been dead months. Having no leads is making them desperate and furious. They figure they've got their first break and they'll be hard to convince it isn't the right one."

"You were his partner. Why do you believe me?"

Again, that quirk of a smile, directed at some shortcoming of his own I wasn't seeing, crossed his face. “Because I...fell."

"Fell?"

He shook his head. “The night after Jason died, I went back to The Anchor. Don't even know why. To try and find what we missed, maybe. It was my first mistake. I was supposed to stay away, stay out of the investigation."

"He was your partner."

"Which is why I should have stayed away.” He lifted his gaze, and this time, there was no mistaking that he was not talking to me as a cop now.

I could have tumbled into those eyes, cuffs and all, and never come out.

"I saw you there, Paul. With Carl. I don't know what it was. Something he said, some way he looked at you, or you looked at him. Something. I don't know, but it got my hackles up. When you went to the bathroom at one point, he slipped out the back door, and I followed him. He was standing in the alley, just inside the crime tape, staring at the spot we found Jason's body. He had the strangest look on his face. I can't even describe it, except I would not want to know what was going through his head at that moment. He went back inside, grabbed you and dragged you out. Like he was terrified."

Half way through his story, I began to shake. I remembered that night. I hadn't heard about Lil's brother yet, but I remembered Carl's sudden shift, from overbearing and protective to—something else.

He hadn't been afraid of anything. Not that I could tell. He'd been so horny he couldn't wait to get back to his place before getting his cock into me for the first round. He'd started in the car, and the entire night had been wild, forceful, and pushed just to edge of scary. An edge that blurred and disintegrated before long and ended with me tied to my own bed.

"He did it.” The accusation fell off my lips, unstoppable. Horrifying. But undeniable.

"But I can't prove it.” Vic hung his head. “In my gut I know it, but I can't prove a damn thing."

"How many?"

Vic dropped his head into his hand. “Paul—"

"How many!"

"Six. As far as I can tell."

"I need to—"

He raised his head, finally, and I found I couldn't look him in the eye. “I'm sorry. I didn't do this right."

"I—” My gut churned. “Get me out of here.” I struggled to get my feet free of the car and shirked past him.

He was up and grabbing for me in two strides, and too fucking bad I puked all over his shoes. If he thought I'd been about to run, it served him right. Where the hell was I going to go? It left me shaking and helpless to even wipe my mouth.

"Here.” Vic lifted my chin, used the tail of his own shirt to wipe the corner of my lips.

"Don't.” I pulled away, tilting my head from his touch.

"I'm sorry. Paul, I dropped that on you—"

"Like a ton of bricks.” I couldn't stop shaking.

"This whole thing is cocked up.” His hand had slid from my chin to my shoulder where it rested, a warm, solid mass that I shouldn't have been taking comfort in. “You shouldn't be here. Not like this."

For one, delirious moment, I was sure he was going to reach around and release me. His hand grazed from my shoulder down my arm and stopped just above the cuffs.

"I should get you in there."

I might have actually whimpered. I couldn't make my feet move, though, and the slight tug Vic initiated on my arm eased.

"You don't have any reason to trust me."

I kept my head down and my mouth shut.

"I'll walk you through every step. I promise. You just tell the truth, and nothing bad can happen."

Something else Carl said a lot, only bruises proved otherwise.

Vic's fingers twitched on my wrist, trailed up my arm. His body heat intensified as he stepped closer. “I believe you, Paul. I'm going to keep you safe. I'm going to get you out of this."

My teeth clenched. “You're the one getting me into it. Just let me go."

"And what will you do? Disappear? If you do, it will only look worse."

"Please.” I risked raising my head, looking into his eyes, and braced for the impact. “Just let me go?"

He didn't do what I expected. He pulled me to him, and the hand on my arm snuck around to the small of my back. I was pressed to his side, cheek flat against his broad chest, his breath wafting across my hair.

"The best way to keep you safe right now is to keep you where he can't get at you, where I can stay close, and we can prove you're innocent."

"Why?” Too many questions swirled through my head for me to get any of them out properly.

"I'll explain it all, I promise.” He stepped away, and a chill breeze brought goose bumps up on my arms. “Right now, before anyone wonders what's going on, I have to take you inside. You'll have to answer questions. Lots of them. Over and over. Just tell the truth. I won't be far. I know it seems contradictory, but the only way I can help you is to protect my job."

"And Carl?"

"He can't hurt you now."

"He always finds a way."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Carl had abandoned the woman's car and now drove a battered blue pickup truck he'd acquired at a service station. The driver had sat inside the rundown cafe there, scoffing down bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Music blared from hidden speakers, the sound tinny and thin. Carl spied a set of keys beside the man's plate and faked tripping, banging his hip into the table. Pain throbbed, and he cursed, apologizing to the greasy-haired fucker for disturbing him.

"Jesus, sorry about that, pal.” Carl laid his hands on the tabletop, one curved over the keys. “Damn near sent your food flying."

The man stared at him, cheeks ruddy, nostrils flared in anger. He reminded Carl of his father, and he bit down the urge to uppercut the bastard's nose so the bone jabbed into his brain.

"You'd better watch what you're doing in future,
pal
,” the man grumbled, shaking his head and turning back to his meal.

"Like I said, sorry.” Carl coughed and swiped the keys at the same time, clutching them in his fist so they didn't jingle. He strode away from the table and out the door, eyeing the vehicles parked outside. Which one belonged to the guy?

He tried several, slipping the key into door locks until he found the right one. Scoping the area then peering toward the cafe, Carl huffed out a laugh and climbed inside the truck. Damn fool man hadn't parked right outside the joint anyway, and this shit-hole of a place had no security cameras. Carl drove over to the woman's car, grabbed the grocery sacks, and transferred them to the pickup. With a full tank of gas, he hightailed it out of there, adrenaline spiking at what he'd done and what he was about to do.

Now, he gritted his teeth, mind going over the next few hours. He'd reach the town of Hidcup in about an hour. Someone he needed to see lived there, though the motherfucker wouldn't live there for much longer. No, Carl had anger boiling through him, pervading his whole goddamn body to the point he lost his breath. He inhaled deeply then released the air, coaching himself to calm the hell down. If he wanted closure, if he wanted some semblance of a normal life, he had to see this through to its conclusion.

The deserted road stretched ahead, fields spread out either side, and Carl jabbed at the radio button to switch it on. Country music filtered out of the speakers, and he smiled wryly.
Figures. Matches that hick guy
. He fiddled with the tuning dial until he found a classical station. The music soothed his rattled nerves, infusing him with the strength he needed. Calm stole over him, bleeding into every part of his body, and his shoulders relaxed.

He drove the remainder of the journey in contemplation of the past. Scenes that usually disturbed him flickered through his mind, but he watched them with detachment, as though he didn't star in every scenario. The kitchen of his youth came into view, and he knew then what he'd see.

"Say what?” his father said, eyes wide, mouth agape. He planted meaty hands on his hips, his paunch hanging over his jeans waistband, poking out from beneath his too-small vest like a pouch of bread dough.

"I said I'm leaving.” Carl bunched his fists—fists the same size as his father's, his shoulders just as broad. “No reason to stay around here now.” He picked up his holdall and slung it over his shoulder.

Kevin narrowed his eyes, and red splotches spread from small to large on his cheeks. “You tellin’ me you don't need me now? Is that it? Like, I've brought you up on my own, and now you're eighteen you're just gonna fuck off?” He harrumphed, and spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. “Well, that's just damn ungrateful, kid. I mean, is that all the thanks I get?"

Carl fought the frown itching to line his brow.
Is he for real
? “Am I meant to thank you for belting my ass, is that it? D'you want thanks for bringing me up? Is that what it'll take to make you happy?"

Kevin scrubbed his palm over his chin and paced the floor, his lengths limited, what with the narrow floor space between a wall of cabinets and the sink unit. “You need to watch your mouth."

"Watch my mouth? Didn't you ever think forward to this day? Did you really reckon I'd stick around?” Carl took his car keys off the hook on the wall and stuffed them in his pocket.

"You needn't think you're taking that fuckin’ car!” Kevin lunged forward, hand outstretched for the keys.