Hard Candy Saga (24 page)

“I didn't let anyone hurt you then, and I'm damn sure not going to let them do it now,” he promised before leaving the apartment.

Avon took the long way to Dana Carlisle's house. As he pulled up, he could see Carlisle peeking through her front blinds. He smirked when she pulled the door back before he could even lift his fist to knock.

“Come in,” Carlisle greeted. Tucker walked inside just like he had for the past three weeks of crashing at Dana's place.

“Look, Dana . . . about the way I acted . . .” he started to apologize. He had argued with her the day before. Tucker had grown frustrated when Carlisle insisted that she would help him find information on Candy and Easy Hardaway. Tucker had told her it was too risky, but she had insisted on helping him. She had never seen him so passionate about a case. He had also never seen her so hell-bent on getting involved in one.

“Shh. I understand. You were just trying to protect an old friend,” Carlisle joked, winking at him. She gave him a thorough once-over. She stared at him, starstruck by all his sexiness.

“I can't stay long. I have a lot of things to get straight in my life,” Tucker explained, taking a seat on Carlisle's futon, which had served as his bed when he stayed with her.

“I understand,” she whispered. “Are you finally going to try to go home? You know . . . work things out with her?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. In reality, the green-eyed monster of jealousy was slowly crawling up her back.

“You said you had something important to show me, right?” Tucker got straight to the point. She had called him with an urgency to come by. He figured it would be something related to Candy.

“Yeah, I do.” Carlisle conceded his abrupt shift in subject, knowing that she had struck a nerve. She rushed into her home office, talking over her shoulder. “So you must be glad to be in one piece after all you went through,” Carlisle called out, her voice growing faint as she walked to the back of her house.

“Yeah. It's all been really crazy. Look . . . let's not . . .” Tucker replied evasively. He had already told her he couldn't involve her.

Carlisle shuffled back into the living room, dragging a large box behind her. Tucker offered his assistance by casually brushing her hands away and lifting the box onto the pub-style dinette set in her kitchen.

“Well, this is what I wanted to give you. Don't say I've never given you any gifts,” Carlisle said flirtatiously.

“What exactly is all of this?” Tucker asked, surveying the large, dusty box.

“It's all the shit you need to know, all packaged up. It's also the thing that could get me fired from the DEA, and probably earn me the top spot on somebody's fuckin' hit list, so guard that stuff with your life. I don't really understand everything, even after I read through most of this stuff. But it seems like after the Hardaway family was killed, the DEA tossed the house and found what's in the box. I couldn't really believe it myself. Never thought I'd ever see the day when a drug dealer would be writing down his life story,” Dana said, shaking her head.

Avon looked at her strangely.

“Yeah, that's the same reaction I had when I saw what was in those boxes,” Dana told him. “I'm telling you, the shit reads just like a fiction novel, Tuck. Eric Hardaway was in deep. You have to read this shit for yourself,” Carlisle huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Where'd you find—” Avon started to say.

“Don't ask me any questions. You didn't want me to ask you any, and I don't want you to ask me any. Just take it and make good use of it,” she said, smiling wanly.

Tucker had no idea just how desperate she had been to help him get the information he sought. Or the depraved acts she had performed to gather these documents. She owed more than a few people in the classified archives a bunch of favors.

“Thanks for this and for everything else. I'm sorry I can't . . . I never intended to . . .” Tucker was stumbling, truly tongue-tied. He never meant to drag her into the mix. All he'd wanted to do in the first place was go undercover, make a big bust and then redeem himself.

Dana shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shoved her restless hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Avon was clearly having a difficult time saying the words that were in his mind, but not on his tongue:
I'm sorry I kind of used you, although I know I could never be attracted to you, because I am in love with someone else.

 

 

Shaking away the memory—the mistake—Avon finally decided he would just let the heavy silence that stood between them remain intact, like the Great Wall of China.

“You okay?” Carlisle asked, noticing his glassy, blank stare.

“Oh . . . yeah. I'm—I'm just gonna go,” he said, stumbling, his palms sweaty. He leaned toward her awkwardly, giving her a clumsy hug.

Carlisle felt light-headed and unsteady on her feet. She lifted her arms uncomfortably and pat his back—a friendly pat like what men would exchange. She fought the urge to kiss him on the neck. She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes. She was glad that she could help him unravel the Hardaway case. In the meantime, she planned to keep a close eye on him—whether he liked it or not.

Avon got into his car and stared over at the box he had placed on the passenger seat. His first thought was to drive to a safe place and look inside, but the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach prevented him from moving. The dark-tinted windows on the car gave him a sense of security that no one would be able to see inside. He finally gave in to his curiosity and pulled back the thick gray duct tape sealing the box.

The first notebook on the pile was an old-school black-and-white marble composition book. Tucker picked it up and read the cover:
MY LIFE, BY ERIC HARDAWAY.
Pressed for answers that might lead him to learn more about the young girl he'd become so obsessed with, Avon placed the old dusty notebook against the steering wheel and began to read. Just like Carlisle had said, it was like reading a book.

Avon immediately escaped into the life of Easy Hardaway.