So Many Men... (14 page)

Until she knew who she was on her own, without her gift, how could she possibly know who she was supposed to be with someone else?

The darkness closed in as sadness engulfed her. She’d promised Mason an answer by Thursday’s meeting. And right now there was only one answer that made any sense, as miserable as it might make her.

She had to tell him she couldn’t live with him.

“S
O
,
HOW DO YOU FEEL
about a cup of java?” Mason asked, nodding at a coffee shop as he and Rafe headed home after a second Hurricanes outing the following evening.

Mason had needed to spend some quality time with
Rafe, since he’d been so distracted the last time, and he hoped to get his mind off Tess and the fact that she hadn’t yet gotten back to him on his proposal. The least he could do was to buy the kid some coffee.

Rafe nodded. “Sure.”

The place was surprisingly busy for a weeknight, teeming with various customers and an abundance of teenagers. Rafe shifted as they stood in line to order, his head down, his shoulders tense. “Maybe we should just take this to go.”

Mason frowned. Why did Rafe seem so uneasy? He glanced around at the crowd. “It
is
pretty packed in here. Wonder what the big draw is?”

“It’s the movie theater next door. Kids don’t have anywhere else to hang.”

“Yeah? That’s why we need to build the youth center. It’s absolutely necessary.” He clapped Rafe on the back. “No problem. We can take our coffee on the road.”

Rafe nodded, but his discomfort seemed to increase as more kids filed into the place. Something was definitely bothering him.

Mason placed their order, then turned to Rafe. “Are you okay?”

He ducked his head. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

“Okay, we’ll get this, and then I’ll take you straight home.”

Rafe nodded.

They grabbed their drinks, then turned to weave their way through the crowd. A knot of tough-looking teenage boys pushed their way toward them. They wore blue bandannas, either covering their hair, tied to a wrist or just hanging from a pocket and they all bore the same
shaved stripe in their brows—the same mark Rafe had worn when Mason had first met him.

Rafe stiffened beside him and Mason tensed.

Gangbangers.

Mason faced the four young men as they blocked their way, but Rafe pushed in front of him.

“Yo, guys, what’s up?” He raised his hand in greeting and shook the closest kid’s hand in a ritual handshake Mason couldn’t begin to follow.

The young man’s eyes widened, but he went through the motions of the shake with a slow smile. “Yo, Rafe, where you been? We thought maybe you’d cut out of town or something. You been ditchin’ us, man?”

“No, I been around. Got myself a job.”

“Yeah, and new friends?” One of the other boys threw a snide glance at Mason. “What’s up with that?”

“Hi.” Mason smiled at the youth, hoping to defuse the tension. “I’m Mason, one of Rafe’s new friends.” He extended his hand. “Sorry, I just know the standard shake.”

The young man stared at Mason’s extended hand for one long minute as people moved past them in the coffee shop. Then he gripped his hand. “Yo, I’m Cisco.”

Mason held the kid’s gaze. “Rafe has been helping me out. I’ve kept him busy.”

“What’s the matter, Rafe? We not good enough for you no more?” Another of the kids moved forward.

“No, it’s not like that. My old man’s been sick again and I’ve been looking after him.” Rafe smiled, though his shoulders remained tense. “So what’s up with you?”

“We’re headed to a party.” The first young man
glanced at Mason, then back at Rafe. “We’re thinking you should cruise with us, bro.”

Mason put up his hand before Rafe could reply. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get Rafe home. I promised his father we wouldn’t be late.”

“So, this your new baby-sitter, Rafe?” one of the boys asked, his voice taunting.

“He’s not my babysitter.” Rafe cast Mason a sideways glance and straightened, his chin lifting. “But he’s been helping me stay out of trouble.”

Sounds of derision and disbelief erupted from the group. The second young man frowned at Rafe. “That’s jack, man. You know you can’t diss your boys and start hanging with some do-gooder.”

“That’s not right, man,” another said, his expression angry.

Rafe stood his ground. “I’m making something of my life.”

“You don’t need him—” Cisco jerked his head toward Mason “—to help you make somethin’ of yourself. You got us. Pace is always lookin’ to take on new boys. I told you I would hook you up.”

Rafe pulled back and shook his head in obvious disgust, his hands fisted. “I’m not working for Pace.”

Cisco shook his head. “You made your choice, then. You know the price.”

Mason surged toward the young man, but Rafe held him back as Cisco and his friends turned to leave.

“Let’s go.” Rafe’s bravado seemed to disappear as he and Mason headed for the car a moment later.

“Rafe, what was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can handle it.”

Mason waited until they were on the interstate, before turning to the young man. “Look, son, if you’re in some kind of trouble—”

“I told you I can handle it. I know what I’m doing.” He blew out a breath. “I got to tell you. I wouldn’t have stood up to them before—before I met you.”

“That was your old gang?”

Rafe stared silently at the road.

“What will they do?”

More silence. Mason shook his head as they took Rafe’s exit. “I have plenty of room at my place if you and your dad want to come stay for a while.”

For a second, Rafe’s shoulders slumped, but then he shook his head. “We’re straight.”

“Rafe—”

The young man turned to him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears in the dim light. “Have you ever wanted something so bad you hurt with it?”

Mason nodded as he pulled into Rafe’s driveway. He let his gaze drift over the iron grillwork covering the windows and his throat tightened. No one should have to live like this. “Yeah, I think I know what you’re saying.”

“Then you’ve got to leave me to this. One way or another it’ll all be over soon.” He slipped from the car.

“Rafe.”

Rafe turned, his eyebrows raised in question.

“You watch your back and you call me if you need me.”

A slow smile spread across Rafe’s face, and for the first time since Mason had met him, the smile reached the boy’s eyes. “You got it, Dr. Davies.”

Then he turned and headed into the darkness surrounding the house.

A
LOUD RINGING JOLTED
Tess from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and groped for the phone on her nightstand as the thing pealed again. She knocked a picture frame and a half-eaten muffin to the floor before she managed to wrestle the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” Squinting, she made out the digital display on her clock that told her it was five-thirty in the morning. Christ, who was calling so early?

“Tess?” Tension vibrated in Mason’s voice, bringing her eyes fully open in the predawn darkness.

“Mason?” She struggled through her tangle of blankets to a sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry to call you. I just wasn’t sure what else to do and…” He took a deep breath. “I really needed to hear your voice.”

“It’s okay. What’s happened?”

“It’s Rafe. His father just called me. He’s missing. I think he’s in some kind of trouble.”

“What?”

“We went to a game again last night and he seemed to have a good time, then we stopped for coffee afterward and he ran into former friends of his, gangbangers. I think it has to do with Rafe’s leaving the gang. They didn’t seem so happy about it.”

Fear raced up Tess’s spine. “Rafe is in a gang?”

“I know that he used to be, though he has always denied it.”

“So, how did he get out?”

“I think he just walked away, but I’m afraid his old buddies weren’t ready to let him go. I don’t know, I’ve heard some bad stories about what gangs do to members who want out. I talked to the police a little while
ago, and though we can’t file a missing person’s yet, they said they’d keep an eye out for him.”

“Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry.” A feeling of helplessness settled over her. “I’ll be right there.”

“Hold on. That might be the police.” He clicked over to his other line.

Tess held her breath and made a plea that was as close to a prayer as she’d ever made that they’d find Rafe safe and sound…and soon.

“That was his father. They found him,” Mason said as he came back on the line.

She gripped the phone. “How is he?”

“He’s at the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

“Oh, my God, Mason. What happened?”

“They jumped him and beat him out.”

“Beat him out?”

“It means he’s out of the gang…if he lives.”

M
ASON’S THROAT TIGHTENED
as he leaned over Rafe. His eyes were swollen shut and his lip broken open. Casts dressed his right arm and left leg, but the bandage around the boy’s head gave Mason the most concern.

He pressed his fingers to the young man’s throat and let out his breath. His pulse beat a steady rhythm. Glancing over the young man’s chart, he frowned. Rafe had a concussion. He’d woken for a short period, but it could take weeks before they saw the full effects.

At least the boy was going to recover. It could have been much worse.

Anger washed over Mason as he stared at the empty chair beside the bed. Where was Rafe’s father? Immediately, he shook his head and chastised himself for blaming the man. He’d probably been too ill to visit his son. But Mason’s stomach churned as he thought of Rafe lying in the hospital by himself. No one should be left alone like that.

Especially a child.

A soft scraping sounded behind him. He turned to where Tess stood just inside the door. He motioned to her and she moved on unsteady legs toward him, her face
pale. Her soft scent drifted over him as he slipped his arm around her and pulled her to his side. “He’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she gazed at the still young man in the bed. “It’s just awful…this violence.”

“I know he looks bad, sweetheart, but he’s really very lucky. He didn’t have any internal injuries, aside from the concussion. His age will actually make his recuperation from that a little longer, but there’s no reason not to expect him to have a full recovery.”

Again she nodded and tried to wipe the moisture from her eyes, but when she took Rafe’s good hand in hers, she crumpled to the side of the bed and tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

Alarmed, Mason placed his hand on her shoulder. “Babe, you don’t have to be here.”

For long moments she sat with her eyes closed, Rafe’s hand in hers, her breathing labored. He attempted to pull her away, but she clamped her free hand over his and shook her head. When at last she calmed, she looked at him, her eyes rimmed in red, sorrow engulfing her. Her voice shook as she spoke. “He’s had such a hard life.”

“Yes, but it’s made him tough. That boy’s a real scrapper. He’ll bounce back. I’m going to do my best to see things go better for him for as long as I can.”

“Where is his father?”

Mason shrugged, tamping down the unbidden animosity that rose in him. “I guess he’s too ill to come. I’ll call him later. I’d better get you home, then I’ll come back and stay with him. I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“No.” The word burst from him, harsher than he’d intended. “It isn’t necessary.”

He shook his head, searching for the right words. How to tell her he’d been wrong to call her—that he didn’t need her as a distraction now? That seeing her at once made him ache to have her and reminded him of his offer to join his life with hers. That her hesitance in accepting his proposal was as good as any abandonment?

The ache inside him grew. Pain for Rafe. Pain for all the lonely moments in his own life when he’d needed someone there with him.

“I can drive myself home.” Her voice sounded drawn. Thin.

“I’ll call you later.”

He met her gaze and the depth of her grief reached out to him, twisting his gut, baring his soul, until he turned from her, ready to pound the walls with the rage swelling through him. He didn’t need her pity.

She stood for a moment in silence, then spoke again, her words stronger. “We’re going to have that fancy ball of yours and get that youth center up and running. Maybe if Rafe had had a place like that to go to, then this would never have happened.” She lifted her chin high. “You’ve got my promise that I will do everything in my power to help make that center a reality.”

As she turned to leave, a lump formed in Mason’s throat. He reached for her, unable to speak, suddenly wanting more than anything for her to stay. She left without looking back and he sank into the chair by the bed.

God, what would he do when his time with her ended?

T
ESS STOOD OUTSIDE THE
meeting room for the Thursday night planning meeting and closed her eyes. For the hundredth time she pushed aside the ache that plagued her each time she thought of Mason and how he’d turned her away at the hospital. Time. He just needed time.

She inhaled a deep breath and focused on the task at hand, envisioning a ball of light all around her. After leaving the hospital the other day she’d gone to see Aunt Sophie, distraught over Rafe and her inability to bear the intensity of emotion that poured into her anytime she came in contact with the youth.

The empathic rush from him had nearly destroyed her in the hospital. It was almost as if she could feel each blow the boy had suffered. Aunt Sophie had suggested she try the ball of light with the teens, while holding the intention that she would feel only what she chose to feel. And though the entire idea sounded a little out there, Tess was determined to try anything that might help her cope with this new quirk of her gift.

Lifting her chin, she squelched the urge to call Mason and beg him to come. His presence had certainly been a stabilizing force for her, especially in the hospital, but he’d spent every spare moment he had this week with Rafe. Since Rafe wasn’t yet up to joining them, they’d have to make do without Mason as well.

She pushed open the door and found herself again in the midst of the DCWC. With each planning meeting their numbers grew. An excited buzz filled the air.

Her stomach tightened. Had the teens come? She scanned the room. They sat in a huddled group in a back corner.

Cassie hurried over to her. “Tess, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it tonight. How’s Rafe?”

“He’s home and recovering. Mason’s with him.”

“Good. Oh, guess who’s come to lend a hand?”

“Who?”

Cassie nodded toward a nearby table. Tess followed her gaze to where April sat in deep conversation with a couple of regular attendees. “Well.” Tess turned to Cassie. “That’s impressive.”

“I told you she’s not so bad. I knew she’d come around. Lord knows we can use her. Why don’t you find a seat? We’re almost ready to get started.”

“Okay, but first I’m going to check on the kids.” She moved toward the back, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

Pam Alberts, communications chair, smiled at her. “Tess, I’ve been meaning to call you. I understand you’re responsible for that wonderful write-up in the
Miami Herald.
What a coup. I have been trying to get them to do a piece on us for years. The exposure is phenomenal.”

“Actually, that was Josh’s doing.”

Glancing around, she spied him amid a swarm of adoring women. She shook her head. No wonder she hadn’t heard from him lately. Between his personal training, Erin and the DCWC, he didn’t have any time left for her. He waved and she waved back.

“There he is.” She pointed Pam in his direction. “He’s the guy with all the connections. Trust me, you won’t have any trouble with publicity from now on.”

“Well, I know he wouldn’t be here if not for you. And Cassie says we found the caterer, the orchestra and the decorator all through you, too. How did we ever manage before you came?”

“I think you ladies did just fine.”

“Well, if you have time, could you stop by the communications group when we break out? I have a few ideas I want to bounce off you. Maybe Josh can join as well.”

A sense of satisfaction surged through Tess. At last the group was appreciating what she brought to the table. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, glancing at the back corner. One girl, who sported piercings in her nose and brow, sat with her arms crossed, a sullen expression on her face. Another had her head bent over a notebook, her pencil flying over the page, while a young man, with his dark hair spiked and bleached at the tips, balanced a dagger on the end of his finger.

Finally, she turned to Pam. “I think I’m going to be busy, but Josh can fill me in later.”

Without waiting for a reply, she moved past the rows of chairs to the back. She stopped just short of the teens, again imagining the light surrounding her. She cleared her throat and they all glanced at her. “Hi. Remember me?”

The boy laid the knife across his lap and eyed her with interest. “Tess, right? From the beach cleanup.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry I don’t remember all of your names.”

She relaxed a fraction as they each introduced themselves. Only faint glimmers of the turbulence she’d experienced with them before rippled through her. Aunt Sophie’s ball of light seemed to be working.

Swallowing, she faced the young man with the knife. “That thing makes me a little nervous. Would you mind putting it away?”

For a long moment he stared at her, his eyebrows fur
rowed. Traces of resentment flickered from him. The others turned in his direction and tension hummed through the group. Then he slowly stowed the blade in a sheath strapped to his chest under his shirt.

He spread his hands in an open gesture. “So, we ready to get to it, or what? Don’t we have a ball to put on or something?”

As the rest of the group turned to her, expectant looks on their faces, Tess breathed a sigh of relief. She pulled out the list Cassie had given her and handed each of them a copy. “Yes, we do, so let’s get to it.”

“H
I
.” T
ESS STARED AT
M
ASON
the following Wednesday as he stood in her doorway. Relief and joy flooded her. The ball was days away and she’d hardly heard from him since Rafe had gotten hurt. She barely believed he stood there now and she hadn’t dreamed him.

“May I come in?”

“Yes. Of course.” She moved back and held her breath. Distress still weighed heavy on him. His clothes hung from his body, wrinkled and disheveled.

She opened her arms and he walked into them, scooping her close and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Closing her eyes, she savored the intimacy he offered, cradling him and thankful he had come to her at last.

After a few moments he pulled back, his eyes bloodshot, weariness etched into his face. “God, I missed you.”

“Me, too.” Her eyes misted and her throat tightened.

Live with me.

She inhaled a deep breath. “Mason—”

“Shh.” He pulled her close again and kissed her, his tongue imploring.

She melted into him—melted into his kiss, giving him all she had to give—her heart bursting with love for him and the hope that maybe, just maybe, one day she could fill the void in his.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her and carried her to her room. He laid her on the bed and she took him again into her arms. His stubbled cheek rubbed her face and his voice sounded gruff and hollow in her ear.

“Love me, Tess.”

She kissed him then, holding him close, opening her heart to him, offering her soul. She touched him and stroked him, her need for him overwhelming in its intensity. Moments later he seated himself deep inside her and she cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks, his desolation and his joy more than she could bear.

He thrust into her, his eyes closed, his mouth open in a wordless cry. The desire in her rose as his movements took on a primal rhythm and she lost herself in an endless sea of sensation, the turbulence of his emotions washing over her. At last unrestrained, he gave her all he had—his loneliness, his grief and a love powerful enough to steal her breath. He thrust again and cried out in a release so strong it left her weeping as he collapsed, spent, beside her.

She lay awake late into the night, memorizing the serene lines of his face. At long last she slept, her arm draped over him, her heart filled with peace. When she woke in the early hours just past dawn, he was gone.

M
USIC SWELLED ACROSS THE
ballroom. Mason glanced through the crowd of black ties and sequined gowns, straining for a glimpse of Tess. Apprehension filled him. She’d insisted on arriving before him, citing the excuse
that she and the teens needed to help her sister with final touches on the decorations.

He closed his eyes as snatches of his last night with her flashed before him. He’d been exhausted and worn when he’d gone to her. The memory blurred in his mind, a collage of heat and despair…and tranquility. A tremor of remorse ran through him. He’d taken her in pain and anger and she’d given him peace.

Opening his eyes, he looked again for her. Now that Rafe was recovering, Mason needed to set things right with Tess. He didn’t want to push her into a decision to live with him, but now that the question was out there, it seemed to hang between them.

Hopefully tonight she’d put him out of his misery, one way or another.

A flash of white in the black-and-jewel-toned crowd caught his eye and he moved toward her, anxious to see if she might have an answer.

“Wonderful party, Mason, dear.” An older woman, her silver hair swept up in a complicated twist, laid her well-manicured hand on his arm.

He scoured his memory for her name. “Thank you, Mrs. Brandywine. I’m so glad you and Dr. Brandywine were able to make it.”

“Once he heard Dawn Bailey was dragging Phillip here, George wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Their attendance is a boon for us. They seem to have drawn quite a number of admirers.”

“Your success is practically guaranteed. I hear Dawn has taken quite an interest in your Project Mentor.”

“Yes, I understand she stopped by one of the teen workshops last week.”

“The word I have is that she was quite impressed.” She glanced past his shoulder. “Oh, there she is. If you’ll excuse me, Mason, I’d like a word with her.”

“No problem, I’d like a word with her myself to thank her for her interest.”

Mrs. Brandywine waved goodbye, then disappeared into the crowd. Mason peered through the shifting revelers to where a stately woman smiled at Mrs. Brandywine.

He would have to meet with Dawn Bailey later. For now, he needed to find Tess. Glancing around, he caught another glimpse of her and moved in that direction, smiling and nodding as he passed various attendees. At last, he came to the edge of the dance floor, where couples moved to a waltz.