My stomach was a hollow ache, but the thought of eating was enough to nauseate me even more.
“You have another fight with Kim?”
Shooting Cane a dark look, I asked, “What makes you think that?”
“You’re in a lousy mood. That usually does it.” He lifted a shoulder while his fingers drummed restlessly on the table.
“Good point.” I shrugged. “Yeah, we had a fight.”
I seriously regretted ever getting involved with her. Sure, this ‘relationship’ was helping my career, and hers too. She was an exceptional actress, and when she put her public face on, people saw a woman who was truly sorry for how she’d once conducted herself. They saw a woman who loved children, adored animals, cared about the less fortunate. A Mother Teresa in designer gowns.
But I had to deal with what she was like when that public face came off.
The nicer she acted in the public eye, the meaner she got in private.
“Why don’t you just call things off?” Cane suggested. “That woman is a barracuda. No. She’s worse. She’s a man-eater, put here to suck a man dry and leave him an empty, soulless husk.”
“I’m already an empty soulless husk.” Maya had seen to that. “Besides, we were talking about you. You’ve got to be crazy, letting them send you to that place. Don’t go, man. Okay? Just don’t go.”
Cane shrugged. “Like I said, it’s already a done deal. I have to go.”
“You could let me break your arm. Your leg. You’d get medical leave or whatever that’s called. I’d do it for a friend.”
I wasn't entirely joking, either.
Cane snorted, but he didn’t sound amused. “No. For the last time, I’m doing this. I’m serving my country. It's the decent thing to do.”
Decent. Dying in somebody else’s fight is a decent thing to do? But I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t want to spend this time arguing with him. This was the first time I’d seen him in months. I didn’t want to think it could be the last time.
“Yeah, yeah.” Blowing out a breath, I took another drink of water to distract myself from how thirsty I was. It didn’t help. Water wasn’t what I wanted, but I wasn’t going to lose my brain to the fog of whiskey again.
“You talk to Florence lately?” he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.
Cane and I had been friends a good long while. That was the only reason I caught the faint flicker in his gaze as he delivered that casual question.
Leaning back in the chair, I studied him. “No. Why?”
“No reason.” He gave me an easy smile, but the shrug that followed had just a touch of tension to it. “Just wondering.”
Like hell. “Is she okay? She's not fighting with Astor, is she?” Florence had gone and gotten married in a quiet ceremony not long after she’d left the clinic. She still worked, and she was in huge demand, but she was more focused on her husband and her life with him than her career.
“No. Hell no.” Cane laughed, shaking his head. “I don't know if those two have ever really fought. They're like... Romeo and Juliet or something, if those two idiot kids hadn't gone and killed themselves. They're perfect together.”
“True.” Florence and Astor were like a couple of lovebirds. They'd been married for a while, but you would have thought they were still stuck in the honeymoon phase.
I didn't go over there all that much. Personally, I could admit I had my own selfish reasons for it, too. Seeing them together hurt. It was like a punch in the gut, or the heart. Not because of Florence or anything, but because they had what I’d almost had.
The reminder was one I could do without.
“If they aren’t having problems, then tell me what’s going on,” I said, leaning forward. “Is she sick? She’s not using again, is she?”
“No.” Cane waved a hand dismissively. “She’s fine, okay? I was just asking.”
“Bullshit.” I glared at him, waiting for him to give it up, but he didn’t.
“Fine.” I lifted a hand for the waitress. “I’ll just drive out there and see—”
“No.” Cane caught my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. I was bigger than he was, but the months he’d spent at boot camp in training had added bulk to his frame. He pulled my hand down and shot a look around the room, as if he feared somebody was watching us. “You don’t have to go out there.”
“Then you better talk.”
He passed a hand over his face, muttering to himself. I didn’t quite make out any of the words, but I caught the drift well enough.
“Tell me what in the hell is going on.” I pulled my wallet out and fished out a few bills, tossing them down as I held his gaze. “Do it now, or I’m leaving.”
“Shit.” Cane dragged a hand back over the short, stubbly growth of his hair and shot me a dark look. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, then leaned forward. “Look…I, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. And you can’t go losing your mind over this, okay? You can’t go barging in on them, either.”
“If she’s fine, if there aren’t problems with her and Astor, then it shouldn’t be a big deal if I go over there,” I pointed out.
“What the hell.” Elbows braced on the table, Cane stared down at his drink. “Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?”
Since it was clear he was just talking to himself, I didn't say anything. I continued to wait. I’d wait him out, too. It would be quicker than making the drive to Florence’s place on the other side of town. I would be going over there, but I wanted to know what was going on first.
“Okay.” Cane blew out a breath and lifted his head, staring me down. “Here's the deal. I’ll tell you, but you can't go losing it again. You all but lost yourself, and it took us too long to get you level again. You hear me?”
“Me? What are you…?” The intense expression in his eyes had me falling silent before I even finished the question.
I had been reckless all my life, but there only one time I’d even come close to really losing myself. Plenty of times when I wouldn’t have cared if I had, but only one time when I’d come so close.
My heart started to pound in slow, heavy beats.
The blood roared in my ears.
The water I’d been sipping became a lifeline as I clutched at the glass. I gripped it so hard, it was a miracle it didn't shatter.
“Tell me.”
Cane smoothed a hand back over his hair once more, then he met my gaze.
“It’s Maya. She’s back and she has one hell of a story to tell.”
I only heard one word.
Maya.
13
Maya
I had the mother of all headaches when I woke up.
It pounded at the base of my skull, radiating upward and spreading its jagged, sharp fingers through my brain matter like poison.
Dragging myself into the bathroom, I made a straight line for the shower, not even bothering to turn the lights on.
Lights were painful.
Sound was painful.
Very few things weren’t painful just then.
I had every intention of trying to drown myself under the crisscrossing multiple jets of the luxurious shower, and if I didn’t succeed on the first try, I’d just give it another go. Anything to make this pain in my head stop.
I had barely slept. I’d never wanted a Rite-Aid or Walgreens as badly as I had last night, but the twenty-four-hour pharmacy was a construct that wouldn’t come to be for a good long time.
Fortunately, though, the hot shower eased the edge of the headache back, and when I made my way downstairs, I caught the scent of life-saving coffee lingering in the air.
Harrison was waiting in the kitchen with a smile and a cup already poured.
“You’re my hero,” I said, accepting the cup with a thankful smile.
“You tell me that three times a week.” He chuckled, but before I could tell him I meant it every time, there was a knock at the door. He left me to enjoy the elixir of life and I leaned against the counter
, breathing in the scent as I slowly sipped from the brew.
He returned less than a minute later and his face was taut with tension, an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on his features.
“Miss Cruz.”
I pushed away from the counter. “What’s…?”
The rest of my question died as he stepped further into the room, revealing who stood at his back.
The cup fell from numb hands, hot coffee and shards of ceramic splattering on my bare feet as the cup shattered.
The pain hit a moment later, but the sight of Glenn overwhelmed it, turning the shock and hurt into an afterthought.
“Glenn.”
“Miss Cruz!” Harrison came rushing to me.
Confused, I looked over at him.
I went to take a step.
“Be still!” Glenn snapped at me, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it. It startled me into complete motionlessness.
Confused, I looked up, watching as he came striding toward me. He jerked me unceremoniously into his arms, dumping me over his shoulder. “Hey!”
He ignored me.
“Mr. Jackson—” I heard Harrison’s voice over the sound of blood roaring in my ears.
“She’s going to cut her feet, Harrison. Can you get that mess cleaned up?”
“Of course. But you needn’t carry her upside down.” The tension in Harrison’s voice was clear even to me.
Cut my feet…?
Glenn spun around and moved across the kitchen, before dumping me in a chair.
My head caught up with everything happening. I’d dropped the cup of coffee. The cup broke. I had a few small cuts—and probably a few burns from the hot liquid. My legs and feet were stinging, and there were a few small cuts on my feet and lower legs.
Feeling like an idiot, I focused on Harrison as he squatted on the floor in his impeccable black suit and sopped up the black brew. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I’m always causing you more work.”
“Nonsense, Miss Cruz. Give me just a moment and we’ll see about getting you looked at.” He gave me a warm smile, but as he straightened, hands full of rags, his eyes lingered on Glenn for just a moment.
“I’ll take care of it, Harrison,” Glenn said, his eyes on me. “Maya and I have some catching up to do.”
My mouth went dry.
The expression in Glenn’s eyes wasn’t a happy one.
I sat silently as he used a hand towel to wipe the coffee from my ankles and feet and dab away the few streaks of blood. He wasn’t rough, but there was no gentleness in his touch either.
“How bad do the burns hurt?” he asked, little sign of emotion in his voice.
“They sting. I’m fine.” Unable to continue sitting, I got up. Nothing had gotten to the soles of my feet, so walking wasn’t a problem. Thankful for that, I started toward the back door. “I assume you’re here to talk to me.”
“You assume correctly. Since you couldn’t be bothered to come find me.”
The caustic bite in his voice was like a slap, but I didn’t let it show. “I was going to try to contact you tomorrow.” I’d made that decision last night. “But if you must know, you were the first person I tried to find. You weren’t at the house. And Peter wouldn’t help me.”
Once I was outside—and far enough away that I couldn’t feel the heat of him against my back—I turned to look at him.
He was staring at me as if we were strangers, as if he’d never touched me, never wanted me, never loved me.
I could have handled the anger, but that distance in his eyes hurt. I’d rather he yelled. I’d almost rather he struck me.
“Why did you leave?” A muscle pulsed in his cheek, the only indicator that he felt anything.
“I…” Breaths hitched in my chest. “I didn’t leave—not like you think. I…look, I didn’t have any control over it, okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. You’re alive, so clearly somebody didn’t kill you.
Something sick twisted inside me. “Would that have made it better for you? Is that what you had been hoping for? That I’d been killed?”
“Of course not.”
He said nothing else for a moment and I pressed a hand to my belly as that feeling of sickness worsened. “No. I wasn’t killed but I was kidnapped…” My voice cracked as I prepared myself to tell that same story.
“Bullshit.” He hurled the word at me and it was so full of rage, so full of hate that I flinched. “I don’t want to hear whatever crazy story you made up. What’s the truth, Maya? Are you married? Were you just out here for a fling and you decided to go back home?”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Married? Are you nuts?”
“It’s kind of funny that you disappeared right after I proposed.”
“I’m not married. If you would just listen…”
“To your lies?!” he shouted. He came up, snarling down at me, and the sheer power of the fury in his voice, in his eyes was enough to leave me shaking. “I don’t want to hear your lies. I want the truth.”
I shivered, wrapping my arms around my middle and turning away. “You just don’t want to hear me,” I said softly. “You made up your mind before you even came here, Glenn.”
Hard hands came down on my shoulders and he spun me back to face him. “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t just disappear on me in the middle of the night, without a word, without thinking about what you did to me?!”
“I didn’t just disappear!” I shouted, my own temper finally snapping. “I didn’t want any of that to happen and I’ve felt empty ever since I woke up and you weren’t there! But you don’t want to talk, you don’t want to listen! You just want to yell and snarl at me!”
“You…” He backed away, shaking his head. “You think I should listen to you after what you did to me?”
To my horror, my lower lip started to tremble. I was going to cry, damn it. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not when he was yelling and blaming me for something I had no control over.
Tears burned my eyes and I shook my head. “Just leave me alone,” I whispered, broken inside. “All I’ve wanted was to get back to you, and when I finally managed to do it, this is what you’re doing.”
“You’re going to cry, like you are the one who got fucked over?” Glenn gaped at me. “You’ve got some serious fucking nerve.”
“Leave me alone!”
“I don’t—”
“Mr. Jackson, that’s quite enough.” Harrison’s calm voice came from the doorway.
“This is none of your damn business, Harrison,” Glenn snarled.
“On the contrary, you’re a guest, here in the home of my employer. It is my responsibility to make sure those who are on the property are not ill-treated. You will not speak to a lady in such a manner while in Ms. Woods’ home. Please leave or I’ll have to fetch Mr. Conde, and he’ll either escort you out or contact the authorities.”
I was shaking by the time Harrison finished.
Crying by the time the door slammed.
And when Harrison came up and tentatively touched my shoulder, I flung myself at him, crying in a way I hadn’t cried since I’d arrived back in 1965.
14
Glenn
“I thought you’d given up on alcohol.”
Cane studied me over the bottle I’d bought and put down between us. The bartender had given me two highball glasses, happy to have somebody else take over the job so he could go back to leaning against the counter and flirting with the only waitress in the joint.
“It’s a goodbye party, right?”
He eyed me through the lingering haze of smoke, a faint smile on his face. “Some goodbye party.”
“You said you wanted to keep it low-key.” I twisted the cap open and poured us both two fingers. The scent of it teased me, and my mouth was already watering. I’d been craving a drink for two days, ever since I’d stormed away from Florence’s house—and Maya.
I still couldn’t believe she was here. That I’d seen her.
> The need to get up, get out of here and hunt her down was so strong, I tossed back the whiskey. It hit hard and fast, burning a way down my throat. It had been months since I’d had a drink and immediately, I wanted another one. I was in trouble already, and if I was smart, I’d stop.
But if I was smart, I never would have taken the first drink.
Grabbing the bottle, I refilled my drink.
“You don’t need to be tossing it back so fast.”
I just eyed him over the top of my glass and took a satisfyingly burning gulp.
Cane sighed and reached for his glass. “This is going to be a fun night, isn’t it?”
“Why the hell you gotta go to Vietnam?” Swirling the whiskey in the glass, I stared at him over the top.
“I was drafted.” He shrugged, looking unperturbed, but for the first time, I saw a bit of uneasiness in his eyes. For the past year, he’d been stationed here in the states. This was going to be the first time Cane went into a war zone. Seeing the nerves made me feel a little bit better. At least he realized there was something to be worried about.
I didn’t bother pointing out to him that there were ways he could have worked around that. Hell, plenty of guys had found ways to serve their country without going into combat.
I had mentioned that to him, once.
He’d looked disgusted. Sure, man. While others are out there doing the hard shit, I’ll go around and tell jokes or do tours or something. Is that what you think I should do?
Right then, I didn’t know what I wanted, but I didn’t want to think about my friend living in a war zone.
I didn’t want to think about what happened if…
Stop it, I told myself.
“You’ve seen Florence?” I asked. “Told her goodbye?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and shifting restlessly on the chair. “We had lunch, talked a bit. She’s…not happy.” Cane lifted a shoulder and looked down into his glass, swirling it around before lifting it to his nose to breathe in the scent.