There's Only Been You (6 page)

"As if I could ever forget what you did!"

"And I suppose it was her fault you were sleeping with her best friend?"

Sara had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to convince her brothers she'd been totally devastated over their breakup. But why? Why had it been so important that everyone believe the worst of him?

It didn't make any damn sense. He'd never treated her badly—he'd never hurt her in any way.

The rational part of his brain said it was pointless to spend even another second thinking about Sara, Nicky, or the rest of them. But his cop's instincts drove him hard to figure out exactly what it was he was missing. It'd been so long he shouldn't even care anymore. But he did.

Lord help him, he still cared.

Despite the damn videotape.

He reached up to knead the back of his neck. When Rachel had showed him the tape—Sara in bed with Rachel's brother, Jimmy—Mike had been devastated. Like a knife plunging through his young heart, the pain had been unimaginable, worse than anything he'd ever experienced before, including the many lumps and bruises his old man had doled out over the years.

So he ran.

Funny thing is he would have run long before then if not for Sara. And Nicky. They'd made him feel like part of their family, and Mike had soaked up that feeling like a sponge.

Maybe that's why Sara's betrayal had hit him so hard.

He tapped his knuckles against the tabletop as he tried to recall those few seconds of videotape. It'd been shot from the doorway of Jimmy's bedroom. They'd both been under the covers, Jimmy on top, Sara's flaming hair spread out across the pillow.

Jimmy moving over her. Humping her.

"As if I could ever forget what you did!"

"And I suppose it was her fault you were sleeping with her best friend?"

A bad feeling mushroomed in his gut. Something was staring him right in the face, but he'd be damned if he knew what. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to remember something—anything—he might have been too young and emotional to catch at the time. Just one detail, no matter how small, could open up a world of possibilities.

He recalled he'd only been able to see Sara's head and hair with the covers pulled up to their necks, and Jimmy had been moving in a rhythm that seemed ... hell, he wasn't sure. Like he'd been doing The Worm instead of the jerky, unsure movements of a teenager having sex. Almost as if he was starring in a porno flick or something.

The hand holding the coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth.
No
. No frigging way had his life been ripped apart by a staged videotape.

He set the cup down with more force than necessary, sloshing coffee onto the table. Could Rachel and Jimmy have set that whole scenario up? But how? They would've had to ... Christ, they would have had to drug Sara to pull off something like that. The thought sent a shock of fury through him. It seemed so goddamned inconceivable he almost dismissed the idea as crazy.

And he was arrogant enough to want to believe
no way
someone could have gotten one over on him like that. But he'd only been nineteen at the time, and to say his heart had overruled his head would've been the understatement of the century.

He pushed back from the table and shot to his feet. He paced the house like a caged lion, becoming angrier by the second. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Sara had never shown even the slightest interest in Jimmy. Hell, most of the time she'd seemed uncomfortable around him, although after seeing the videotape he'd assumed it had been an act—or a guilty conscience.

"Son-of-a-bitch!” He slammed his fist through the wooden louvered doors that housed the furnace and water heater. Oblivious to the gashes across his knuckles, he stalked down the hallway to his old bedroom.

He swiped Sara's picture off the dresser, clutched it in both hands and slumped down on the edge of the bed. He stared at it, hard, his mouth drawn with a combination of rage and longing, anguish and regret.

But mostly regret.

He'd spent the past eight years believing the worst in Sara. Now he couldn't think of a single reason for having doubted her, regardless of that damned tape.

Or was he merely grasping at straws because he wanted it to be true?

Head throbbing, he stood and set the picture back down on the dresser. It wasn't until he flexed his right hand that he realized it stung like hell. He had busted up knuckles, a swollen jaw, and no idea what to believe anymore. Had Sara betrayed him, or had they been set up? He wasn't leaving town until he uncovered the truth. Something he should have done eight years ago.

But first, he had to face his father one last time.

Staring down at the man who'd given him life, only to make it the most miserable existence any young person should have to live through, Mike felt as cold inside as his father's lifeless body.

He was alone in the funeral parlor, as he knew he'd be. John Andrews had no friends or family. Basically, not a soul in the world would mourn his passing. It'd be sad if it were anybody else lying in that casket. But his father hadn't given a damn about anyone, and there wasn't anyone who gave a damn about him.

Most especially his own son.

The funeral director murmured a few words as he shook his hand. While Mike made a genuine effort to at least appear to be grieving, the truth was he couldn't have squeezed out a tear to save his life.

The rotten old man lying in that casket had never shown him even the smallest amount of affection. He'd never ruffled his hair or patted him on the back. He'd never shaken his hand or said, “Good job, Mikey!” when he'd brought home yet another Little League trophy. And he'd certainly never heard the words “I love you” come out of his father's mouth.

Mike stretched his neck from side to side, trying to ease some of the tension. He'd given up long ago trying to understand how a man could hate his own kid. Mike knew that if he ever had children of his own, he'd show them in every way possible how much he loved them.

He checked his watch before lowering his tired limbs onto the cream-colored arm chair in the farthest corner of the funeral parlor. Three o'clock. In another half-hour his lone car would follow the hearse carrying his father's casket to the cemetery, not bothering to stop at the church for even a short service.

Mike had lost his faith a long time ago.

Hands folded in his lap, his mind drifted to thoughts of Sara. It had only been a few hours since he'd discovered he and Sara may very well have been set up. The problem was, he had no idea what to do about it. Or if it was even true. He could confront her...

Hell, who was he kidding? It'd be a miracle if she didn't spit in his face, let alone sit and listen while he explained what a moron he'd been. And what did it matter to her anyway?

"He's the love of my life."

With a silent curse, he popped a couple of antacids in his mouth and started crunching.

Mike was on his way back to the house when his cell phone rang. He glanced down, recognized the number of his superior officer, Lieutenant Stoddard, and answered the call.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Mike, I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I? I'd just finished dialing when I, uh, remembered what day it was."

"No, it's perfect timing. I'm on my way back to the house as we speak."

Lieutenant Stoddard cleared his throat. “I'm sorry to bother you today of all days, but there's something important I need to speak to you about."

Mike made a right onto Highway 29. “Don't worry, sir, I'm fine. What's up?"

"There's a particular case that's come to my attention, and since you're already up there in Green Bay, I thought I'd see if you were interested."

Mike's curiosity was peaked. “I might be. What's going on?"

"This started down in Arkansas a couple years ago. There's an officer who's suspected of ‘moving and providing protection’ in the city of Little Rock. But no charges were ever filed, and he transferred to St. Louis where he became the model officer. A month ago, he transferred again, this time up to Green Bay."

"Lieutenant, shouldn't DCI be handling this?” The last thing Mike wanted to do was step on anyone's toes. The Division of Criminal Investigations wouldn't take kindly to an out-of-state detective sticking his nose into one of their cases. Especially when one of their own was under investigation for helping drug dealers move narcotics.

"It was a friend of mine up in Madison who filled me in on the case. All you'd be doing is some under the table surveillance work. Just to give DCI a lead so this dirty bastard can be caught and brought to justice."

"Surveillance, huh? So would I be reporting to you, or directly to DCI?” Mike asked as he pulled into the driveway.

"Does that mean you'll take the case?"

Mike killed the engine and leaned back against the headrest. He blew out a silent breath. “It's gonna take a little while to get this house ready to sell, so I might as well have something else to do to break the monotony."

Also, he now had a valid reason to stay in town, which he wanted more than anything. Time to figure out exactly what happened that night so long ago.

"Excellent,” Lieutenant Stoddard said. “And you'll be reporting directly to me, for the time being."

"So what's this scumbag's name?” Mike asked.

"Officer Jason Thomas."

[Back to Table of Contents]

"So, how do I look?” Sara pirouetted for Ethan, Garrett, and Danny, who'd all gathered in her room.

Ethan crinkled up his nose as he eyed her from head to toe. “You look pretty,” he finally announced, without much enthusiasm.

"But...?"

He shrugged. “I don't know."

"Of course you do. Now come on, tell me what's wrong with what I'm wearing."

"I just don't want you to scare him away. Jason's cool."

Sara's brows rose. She glanced over at her brothers. “That bad?"

Garrett laughed. “That good. Jason will have a hard time keeping his eyes on the road."

"Literally,” Danny said. “Which is why you're gonna go change into a sweatsuit. Right now."

Sara rolled her eyes. “Danny, it's June. And by the way, I'm a little past the age of being told what I can and can't wear."

Looking rather distressed, Ethan said, “Mom, your ... you-know-what's are showing. Jason's a boy; he don't wanna see that kind of stuff."

Garrett burst out laughing and even Danny couldn't keep a straight face.

"Listen, Ethan,” Garrett said, “I promise Jason will love what your mother is wearing. You see, big boys don't mind as much as little boys when a woman's—"

"Garrett!"

This time Ethan joined his uncles in a chuckle, although Sara knew he had no idea what he was laughing about. She gave her head an exasperated shake, then looked back into the mirror to examine her reflection.

She'd chosen a simple cotton summer dress that fit her to perfection, with spaghetti straps and a built-in pushup bra. The sweetheart neckline, although flattering, was a tad lower than she normally liked considering she was a full C-cup. But the color, a light shade of amethyst, contrasted beautifully with her coppery-red hair.

She'd painted her toenails for the first time in months, while a pair of white wedge slides added a couple extra inches to her petite frame. Two-inch gold hoops hung from her ears, and two gold barrettes held her hair away from her face. Wispy curls framed her features.

Sara knew this was a casual date, but she desperately wanted to look nice. It had been so long since she'd felt feminine and pretty.

Leaning in close, she examined her make-up. She didn't like to wear much—some lip gloss, a couple strokes of blush, and mascara. She turned her face left, right, then shrugged.
It'll have to do
.

"I promise, he'll be lucky if his knees hold up when he sees you."

Sara met Garrett's gaze in the mirror. “I hope you're right. My son seems to be quite taken with him."

Nicky and Uncle Luke came in to steal a peek at her. With all five of them exchanging glances and grins, she felt self-conscious. “That's it, I'm canceling. Garrett, give me Jason's number."

"Don't be silly,” Nicky said. “We're just not used to seeing you look so ... sexy.” The uncomfortable look on his face made her laugh.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Uncle Luke. I'm just a little nervous, you guys.” She fiddled with one of her earrings. Good Lord, she felt as if she were getting ready for her very first date.

Which had been with Mike.

He'd taken her out to dinner, and she was so nervous she'd actually launched a pork chop off her plate while attempting to cut into it. She'd never been more embarrassed, but they'd laughed the entire ride home.

Oh, no, you don't. You are not going to think about that man tonight!

Ethan bounced off the bed and grabbed her hand. “Don't worry, Mom. If Uncle Garrett says Jason will like the way you look, I believe him. But if he don't,” he shrugged matter-of-factly, “he's a butthead."

She sighed. “Ethan James."

Everyone followed her and Ethan into the living room. Ethan led her straight to the front door. “Stay right here. I'll go get your purse."

Sara laughed. “Ethan, he's not even here yet. Besides, I can't appear to be too eager."

"But you always make me wait by the door when Kyle and his mom come pick me up."

"This is different, sport.” Danny leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “You see, girls like to play mind games with us guys. It gives them power if we don't know whether they like us as much as we like them."

Sara rolled her eyes. “Great, Danny. Sour my son against women at an early age."

"Hey, us guys have to stick together.” Danny grinned at her then headed into the kitchen. “Have a good time,” he called over his shoulder.

Ethan climbed up on the couch and grabbed his hand-held game off the table.

Sara retrieved the little purple handbag she'd bought to go with the dress and checked inside to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Wallet, lip gloss, keys, and cell phone. Everything she should need and about all that would fit inside the tiny purse. Her hand froze. She'd forgotten to tell Garrett about Mike. She snapped the purse shut.