Trust in Me

Praise for Trust in Me

“An unusual and compelling tale. I don’t know when I’ve been more involved in a novel’s characters and story.” The Romance Reader

“This powerful tale of redemption, friendship, trust and forgiveness shows once again that Shay knows how to pack an emotional wallop.” Booklist

“Talk about emotional, heart-wrenching stories…be prepared for an extraordinary reading experience that will linger in your thoughts for a long time.” Tanzey Cutter, Old Book Barn Gazette

Dedication

To Mary Jane Brooke, treasured friend and trusted confidante, for more than thirty years! Thanks for always being there.

Trust in Me

Kathryn Shay

Copyright 2002 The Berkley Publishing Group in New York

Copyright 2010 Kathryn Shay

Cover art by Patricia Ryan

Amazon Edition

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PROLOGUE

Spring 1983

“WHERE the hell are Joe and Annie?” Margo Morelli asked as she took a long drag on a homemade joint and passed it off to Linc.

He leaned on his Harley, feet braced on the blacktop of the deserted parking lot of The Downtown Diner and took the joint from the girl who was his world. Inhaling one last stream of smoke, he crushed the butt under his foot like his stash hadn’t cost a cool hundred. “He said they’d be here at two.”

Linc’s eyes narrowed on Margo’s neck. He slid his hand inside the collar of the leather jacket he’d bought her. She had to keep it at his place—her mother would have thrown a fit if she’d known her daughter owned it. Linc wore a matching one. “When’d I do this?” he asked of the red brush burn just below her jaw.

She moved in close, her breasts straining big-time at the tight white T-shirt she sported under her coat. “Last night.” She nuzzled his chest.

His body jerked to attention, even though they’d just screwed a couple of hours ago. “Sorry.” He sounded like a freakin’ frog.

“I’m not. I like having your mark on me.” Her voice was pure sin, and at seventeen, he fell headlong into it.

“Mmm. Maybe we should ditch this plan. Go back to my room...”

Margo shook her head, sending waves of dark auburn hair everywhere. Her hazel eyes blazed with defiance. Though Linc would never tell her, sometimes she scared the shit out of him. Her urge to rebel went way beyond even his, and that was saying something. “We’re going ahead with this.” She threw back her shoulders. “Just as soon as Joe and Annie get here.”

A giggle drifted out from the woods at the end of the parking lot, and from the trees stepped Linc’s, sister, Beth, and Danny Donovan, one of his best friends. Even in the dim light, Linc could see Beth was a mess. It didn’t take Einstein to figure out what they’d been doing.

He stiffened. “Shit.”

Margo’s laugh was sultry. “You’re such a prude sometimes, Grayson.”

“They been humpin’.”

“Well, as my mother would quote from her scripture, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Margo edged in even closer and stood between his legs. She rubbed up against him, and for a minute, he was afraid he might go off like a pimply-faced kid.

“She’s my baby sister,” Linc said.

“She’s sixteen, my age. What’d you think, she’d stay chaste?”

“I don’t have to like it.”

Margo’s expression softened, making her seem young and vulnerable. “You always look out for all of us.”

“The Outlaws was my idea. I look after what’s mine.”

“Yeah, Jesse, you do.”

Though Linc started the gang, Margo had researched famous criminals and they’d all had a blast picking out role models. He was Jesse James, the leader. Margo was Ma Barker—strong, competent and utterly ruthless.

“Hi, guys,” Danny said as he and Beth approached. His hand was draped over Beth’s shoulder and there was a shit-eating grin on his face. The kid had dark hair and eyes, like Linc, but his features were more...patrician. Came from being so rich, Linc guessed.

“Hey, Clyde.” Linc eyed his sister. Tall, pretty, with the curves of a Playboy model, Beth smiled, too. “Fix yourself up, Bonnie.” Even her makeup was smeared and her clothes askew.

Danny did it for her. He straightened her shirt and wiped the black stuff from under her eyes. He always took care of Beth; it was the only thing that kept Linc sane about their relationship. In the middle of the night, ghosts haunted Linc, accusing him of corrupting his sister, his girlfriend and his best friends. He didn’t take the onus for Annie Lang, as she was a baby compared to the rest of them—a goddamned freshman and barely fourteen. Their other friend, Joe Murphy, aka Billy the Kid, had dragged little Belle Star into the gang as an honorary member.

Speak of the devil. Joe’s Harley, huge, black and more powerful than either Danny’s or Linc’s, roared into the parking lot. As always, Joe was going too fast.

When he drew near, Linc saw that he was alone. The monster machine screeched to a halt, and Joe eased off like he wasn’t about to participate in a robbery, but instead was moseying into the town’s ice-cream social.

“Ready to party?” he asked.

Linc nodded.

“Where’s Annie?” Margo asked Joe.

Joe’s face hardened. “I took her home.” He drew out a cigarette and lit it, then fished a bottle out of his pocket and uncapped the Jim Beam. After taking a swig, he offered the liquor to the others. “She won’t be part of this.”

“Why?” Margo’s belligerent tone drew a scowl from Joe.

“I don’t want her to.” His fist curled. “She’s too fuckin’ young.”

Linc started to say something, but held his tongue at the last minute. His buddy could be violent. Linc had seen Joe take apart guys in the school yard, rip rooms to shreds and mutilate his own hand in a fit of temper. Linc also had an ugly inkling, from Joe’s frequent black eye or swollen lip, that his old man—the elder Joe Murphy—had taught his son well. But the only time Linc had brought it up, Joe had gotten madder than a caged animal. So Linc had never tried to talk to him about it again.

Hell, they all had their problems. He and Beth were orphans, supposedly cared for by grandparents who didn’t know squat about what to do with teenagers who didn’t toe the line. Danny was pressured by his hoity-toity parents to cut loose from the gang; they’d also forbidden him to pursue his one true love, race car driving, the main industry of this hick New York state town. And the girl beside Linc probably had the worst of it because what had been done to Margo had been done in the name of God and religion.

If there was a God—and, funny thing, he believed there was—Linc knew in his heart He wasn’t that kind of Supreme Being.

“We gonna do this?” Margo grumbled. “Or we gonna stand here all night and chat?”

“We’re gonna do it.” Linc straightened. “I want me the dough that’s in the safe.”

He’d sweet-talked a baby-faced waitress into coughing up the information he needed about when deposits were made, the location where the money was kept overnight and any security the diner had. They were going to blow the safe.

“Everybody ready?” Linc asked, again seized by a twinge of guilt. Though they’d stolen before, they hadn’t gone after anything so big. If they got caught, they’d be in deep shit.

Which just made it all the more fun.

The Outlaws nodded.

“Let’s go.” Linc headed to the diner, his posse following him.

A half hour later, they stalked back out, pissed as hell. What a crock the waitress had given them. There’d been no money in the safe. Just as they reached their bikes, they heard sirens and saw flashing red lights.

o0o

THE jail was a pigsty, like most of the town. Though Glen Oaks housed one of the nation’s premier stock-car tracks, for as long as Linc could remember, the town had been on a downslide. Every season it was overrun by rowdy race fans who got their rocks off by tearing the streets up, landing in this stink hole and making an even bigger mess of it. The cells smelled of day-old piss and vomit, and the only light came from a grimy window where gray dawn was just peeking through. The blankets on what passed for cots were threadbare; Linc sat on one, listening to Margo swear her head off in the cell next to the boys.

“She’s in a mood,” Danny said nonchalantly. As always, he didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“Fucking son of a bitch.”

“She swears like that when she’s nervous.”

Joe’s head snapped up. His dark hair brushed his collar and his gray eyes were cold and flat. “Why she nervous?”

“I heard the cop say her mother’s on the way.”

Danny shook his head and Joe swore. Virginia Morelli was a loony, and she was mean, too; that made her dangerous to the sixteen-year-old she controlled.

Loud voices came from the main office. Expecting their parents or guardians, the guys glanced over at the entryway. In walked Annie Lang looking tiny and fragile in a baby-pink sweatshirt and jeans. Her long blond braid was rope thick and hung down her back. “Joey?”

“Jesus Christ.” Joe bolted up from the cot. “What are you doing here?”

Annie backed up a step at his tone. “I...I had to see you were all right.”

Joe crossed to the bars. “Get over here!”

Again, Annie hesitated. Then she took baby steps to him. When she was close, Joe reached out and snagged her wrist. She startled. “Joey!”

Linc started toward Joe, but his friend dropped Annie’s arm immediately and hooked his hand around her neck. “Aw, baby, I’m sorry. But I worry about you. You shouldn’t be here.”

Annie pouted innocently. “I should have been with you.”

“Like hell.”

She whispered something to him, then he whispered back. Linc eased away and dropped down next to Danny, watching the other two talk and inch up as near as they could get.

Danny said, “They’re all right.”

“Yeah, I know. I worry about Joe, though.”

“Why?”

“He’s got it tough. That old man of his...”

Linc heard another commotion from the outer office. “If you don’t do as I say, I will sue your ass.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Oh, shit, dear old dad.”

Linc shook his head. Did Danny have any idea how lucky he was to have parents that cared? None of the rest of them had that.