The Past Came Hunting (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

“If we head south on Academy, that might work. If we go north, depending upon the time of day and traffic, we might as well turn ourselves in to the cops,” Drake said to Ramirez as they sat outside Liberty National Bank, freezing their asses off because the gang leader wouldn’t turn on the engine.

Ramirez, who normally was the talkative one of the bunch, simply nodded and added Drake’s comment to a map he was sketching. Finally, he said, “You’re sure wearing a sappy look,
amigo
. How come? You drank as much as I did last night. I feel like someone ripped my head off and stuffed it down the john.”

Drake adjusted his sunglasses and kept watch on their quarry, a medium-sized bank with a good-sized parking lot and easy access and egress. If the security was lax and their getaway route workable, they might have a potential target.

He didn’t feel good; he felt
great.
But to let Ramirez know he’d banged his sister right under his passed-out nose would bring pain. Immense pain. Considering that image, Drake urged the smirk from his face and ordered his happy dick to play dead.

“You see Maria this morning?” Ramirez asked.

Drake’s pulse quickened, but he kept his head turned toward the bank. Was this some kind of test? Had Ramirez gone down to the laundry room, maybe seen her leaving the basement?

Drake plotted his lie. “No.”

Ramirez shook his head. “Damn, I wanted to talk to her before she took off. She’s amazing, don’t you think?”

What was up with the twenty questions? What did he want Drake to say? He looked sideways at the gang leader, making note of his hands on the wheel. Before, Ramirez’s reputation had been a highly touted rumor. A few nights earlier, though, one of the cons had mouthed off, and Ramirez had whipped out a switchblade before the man could blink. Drake’s own piece was tucked in his sports coat. Should he reach for it? Off Ramirez before the prick ended him?

Feeling a test coming on, Drake decided to see if he made the grade. “Yeah, she’s sweet. But you made it clear she’s off limits.” Before he broke out in a sweat, which would be a clear giveaway while they sat in this meat locker, he asked, “We gonna sit here and talk about a chick I can’t have, or we gonna case this bank?”

Ramirez’s eyes narrowed and he studied Drake for what seemed an excessive amount of time. “You’re smart,
hombre
. Real smart.” He took the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Mel answered the door, surprising Joe by flinging herself into his arms. In front of the boys, she generally met him with a simple hello. Suddenly, though, he remembered the schedule change, and that the kids were at practice. Surrounded by the smell of pine and holiday decorations, and not one to miss an opportunity, Joe tossed the package he’d brought to the couch. Drawing her against him, he kissed her. And as her body molded to his, he received the guarantee she felt as good as she looked.

Joe was the one to come up for air. “I’m glad to see you, too.” She smiled and his heart took up river dancing. “I guess it’s safe to say you have good news.”

“Great news.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “At least for me. For the Walfords, not so good. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Got a cold beer?”

“Coming right up.”

From the kitchen she called, “How’s your head?”

“I’ll live.” Joe retrieved the package from the couch and followed her inside. Myriad plants on the counters and windowsill breathed life into the place, while the tangy aroma of barbecue simmering in the crock pot stirred his hunger pangs. Considering the frozen pizza he and Matt would share later on tonight, he envied her time-management skills.

She took a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap from the bottle. In exchange for the beer, he handed her the gift he’d tucked behind his back.

“What’s this?”

“The apology gift I never got to give you.”

“Joe.” She shook her head and tore through the wrapping of the book he’d purchased on his way home from work. As she read the caption,
One Thousand Useless Facts
, she met his gaze and laughed. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“I wasn’t sure what genre so I settled for trivia. Start reading. There’ll be a quiz later.”

“Let’s make it a competition.” She winked. “That is, if that bump on your head didn’t affect your I.Q.”

“Funny.” Joe nodded to the book. “It’s not a Theresa Alder,” he said, referring to the expensive vase she’d discouraged him from buying last night.

“It’s better.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll memorize it and try out for
Jeopardy.
Thank you.”

Wishing for more than that little peck, Joe took a swig of beer and sat down. “So the Walfords. What happened?”

She joined him at the table. “I learned this morning they’ve known all along about my background. Shortly after Carl and I married, they had me investigated.”

Joe paused in drinking his beer. “Really?”

“Yep. What’s more, Peter Walford approves of me.”

“Meaning Janice doesn’t?”

Mel shrugged. “She always ran hot and cold around me. I assumed because of Abby. Today I learned differently.”

“Go on,” Joe said.

“Janice is bipolar. And according to Peter, they’ve been having trouble regulating her meds. When she couldn’t get hold of Luke or me, she blew the situation out of proportion.”

Bipolar. Joe lifted a brow.

“You know what it is,” she said simply.

He nodded. He’d arrested people with the mental disorder. An individual with manic tendencies had no sense of propriety, no concept of right and wrong, and often thought he was invincible. Bipolar patients could be treated, but, unfortunately, when a person experienced the highs that went along with the disorder, they resisted taking their medication.

“Anyway, Peter knew about the private detective and nixed the idea. As for Janice contacting an attorney and filing suit, she forged his signature. Peter told me he would remedy the situation immediately.”

“And all these years you never guessed?”

“Like I said, we didn’t see them often. They’d schedule a trip, cancel, invite us out, then renege. It all makes sense now.” Melanie placed her chin in her hand and she sighed. “Now if only the rest of my life would.”

“I don’t know. I think things are falling into place―your promotion, the boys are doing okay, and then... there’s you and me.”

“That’s just it. You and me.” She held his stare. “Do you think it’s crazy for me to be attracted to you?”

His mouth twisted upward. No doubt she was talking about their past, but no woman had ever worded it quite that way. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

He did. “I’m no expert on affairs of the heart. I just know I like what’s happening between us. If it had to make sense, I’m not sure people would ever end up together.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what we are? Together?”

“That’s the way I see things.”

A determined sheen transfixed her gaze, one Joe’d seen before. Melanie was either a woman interested in lovemaking, or a cadet graduating the academy. Pretty sure she wasn’t the latter, he needed no more encouragement than that. He rose from his chair. Rounding the table, he gathered her in his arms, gratified that when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

With their bodies pressed tightly together, they stood in the kitchen. And with the timing right, and all indications a go, Joe eased his hand up under her sweater. Finding her warm and malleable to his touch, he whispered, “What do you say we go upstairs?”

The sighs and slight moans he’d found encouraging died instantly, replaced by a groan. She beat her forehead against his chest as he tightened his arms around her. “Don’t tell me.”

“Practice ends early tonight.”

Practice.
He’d come to hate that word. Quashing his own teenager-like libido, he cursed the actual two causing his pain and let go. Moving away from her, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why can’t those coaches stick to a schedule? And when did those boys start running our lives? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Mel gave him a total look of sympathy and returned to his arms. Her breathy kisses against his collar only sent more agony his way. “It’s only for a few more months. They’ll be driving soon. As for our first time together, you wouldn’t want to rush, would you?”

“I could live with it.”

Laughing, she started to pull away. “I’ll just bet you could.”

“As it stands right now, I’ll be collecting my pension by the time I make love to you.” He held her at arm’s length. “How much time do we have?”

“What?”

“How much time?”

Her gaze traveled to the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes tops. Joe?”

He drew her close, returning his hands to the hem of her turtleneck sweater. Tugging upward, he left her gaping and standing in her kitchen in a shimmering peach bra. “Joe?”

“Relax. I have no intention of taking you here.” He glanced at the table and remembered an earlier fantasy. “Not that I wouldn’t like to.”

“Joe!”

He liked that he’d shocked her. He also liked that he read no hesitation, only a lust-filled gaze that matched his own. Breathing in the smell of citrus, he nibbled his way down the column of her throat. Alternating between kisses and love bites, he found the spot behind her ear especially sensitive, and concentrated there for a while. And when Mel collapsed into a set of full-fledged sighs, he smiled in satisfaction.

“You like that?”

“You’re getting warmer,” she said breathlessly.

“What about this?” His hand grazed her breasts, the warm, flat plain of her stomach, then settled on the button of her jeans. Granting him permission via a wet, don’t-stop kiss, he unsnapped the button of her jeans. Her breath hitched as his hand went lower. “How much time?”

She threw her head back. “Not enough... but who cares?”

“That’s my girl.” Giving her pleasure affected him as well, and when his own urges demanded equal time, he ordered them back.

It didn’t take long to learn the rhythms that rocked her. Her soft mews became louder. Still, he granted her no release. Not until he took her to the edge.

For silent moments they stood, entrenched in each other’s arms, Mel panting, Joe stunned at the forgotten emotions now swamping him.

She chuckled against his chest. “I know it was good for me, the question is what about you?”

“It was great for me.” Placing his forehead against hers, he said, “I’m not a total jackass. When you wear a pager, you make the most of your time.”

She left his arms, but rewarded him with a smile. Fastening her jeans, she reached for her top. “Well, you made the most of mine. Then she looked at the clock and it was back to business as usual. “If I invite you to dinner, can you pick up the boys?”

The smell of barbecue had been almost as tempting as her. “You got it.” On his way out, he kissed her. “Besides, now that I know the plan is to starve me sexually, the least you can do is feed me.”

Joe flipped the collar of his jacket
to ward off the cold, then tried to conceal a satisfied grin as he jogged up the high school steps. He’d seduced a beautiful woman, she’d invited Matt and him to dinner, and if he was lucky, he might not get called out tonight.

Two of Matt’s teammates met Joe at the top of the stairs, one he instantly recognized as team captain Chet Washington. “Hi, Mr. Crandall,” the black six-foot-four post player greeted him. “Matt’s still in the locker room if you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks.” Noting their damp hair, flushed faces and the fact they appeared to be dragging, he asked, “Tough practice?”

A look passed between the two, followed by Chet saying, “The worst. I’ll say one thing for Coach. He doesn’t play favorites. He gets mad at one of us, we all die.”

“Someone get on his bad side?” Joe asked, hoping the troublemaker wasn’t Matt.

“Someone didn’t show,” Chet said.

“Or bother to call,” snarled Chet’s sidekick.

“So to remind the rest of us not to pull something similar,” Chet explained, “we spent practice running suicides.”

Joe winced. Suicides were a brutal conditioning drill designed to increase endurance and speed. “Two more days, guys, and you’ll be out for winter break.”

“Can’t be soon enough for me, Mr. Crandall,” Chet said. “See you later.”

Joe walked away, approving of the team’s vote to make Washington captain. The soon-to-be-graduate was a leader, looked Joe in the eye and called him mister, perhaps unaware that he was a cop. No big surprise. He doubted Matt went around broadcasting the information. It wasn’t a topic that made a kid popular or got him invited to parties.

Joe pulled open the heavy steel door and sauntered onto the gymnasium court. The only people in sight were Rick Hood and his assistant coaches. The trio wore somber expressions, and at Joe’s entrance, Rick waved him over.

“Heard you’re missing a player,” Joe said.

“Yeah. Any idea where he could be?” Rick replied.

“I was told Matt’s in the locker room.”

“It’s not Matt,” Rick said. “My missing player’s Luke Norris.”

Joe’s stomach dropped at the same time Matt and a few of his teammates exited the locker room.

His son nodded to his friends, then eyed the adults the way a prisoner viewed the backseat of a squad car. Nearing six foot, the boy seemed suddenly smaller. His usually long strides became shorter as he approached. “Hi, Dad.”

“Where’s Luke?” Joe asked.

Matt rolled his eyes and broached the subject head on. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Coach, ‘I don’t know.’ Luke didn’t say a thing about missing practice when I saw him this morning.”

“You call his cell?” Joe asked.

“Only about a dozen times.” Matt glanced down at his shoes. “He doesn’t answer.”

“Luke Norris has eight hours to explain to me why he should still be part of this team,” Rick said. Then refocusing on Matt, he added, “I cut older players to give you boys this opportunity. If I find out you’re lying, Matt, you’re off the team, too.”

Matt’s face turned the color of beets and the father in Joe took over. “He says he doesn’t know.” Placing his arm around Matt’s shoulders, and wondering how the hell he was going to break this to Melanie, Joe said, “C’mon, son. Let’s go.”