Chapter 22 #2
Once we were in his room, I turned to him. “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, being shot at has to be traumatic no matter how it—”
He stepped into my space and kissed me silent. His tongue slid inside my mouth, while he wrapped one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders. I slid my hands under his cut and up his back.
He pulled away, but kept hold of me. “No, it’s no fun having my day ruined by a coward like Rusty.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know it was Rusty?”
His lips pressed together for a beat. “Who else would do it? The location is well away from downtown. And he was there the night before telling us the bar’s days were numbered. The upside is that the bar’s closed for now, and your mom’s dinner isn’t a problem.”
My eyes darted to the side. “I’m guessing a drive-by means you’re still going to keep me from going to my place, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, tonight we’re staying at your place.”
I couldn’t hold back my beaming smile. “No matter how much I want to question you, I’m not going to, because I love that sound of that.”
He nodded. “I’m hitting the shower.”
Mom’s house was in the heart of the Town of Orange Park. She lived in a ranch house built in the late seventies with a kidney bean pool in the back. The driveway was L-shaped and Ryan pulled his bike up the drive in a huge arc so it was parked parallel to the garage.
“Are you trying to block Mom in?” I asked jokingly as I got off the bike.
He swung off and smiled. “No. I’m trying to make it less obvious there’s a bike in her drive.”
He really wasn’t fooling around about safety.
After he grabbed a bottle of wine from his saddlebag, we walked around to the front door. Mom opened it before I could dig out my keys.
“I don’t mean to seem eager, but your motorcycle announces you,” she said.
Ryan chuckled. “That’s the idea, Mrs. Brummis.” He held out a hand, introduced himself, and offered Mom the wine.
“Thank you for this, you shouldn’t have. It’s great to met you, Ryan. Come in.”
Mom led us through the living room. “I didn’t know what you like, but I went to Costco today and got their shrimp cocktail and there are spring rolls coming out of the oven soon.”
Mid-way to the kitchen, I stopped, stared, and felt my heart lurch.
I hadn’t been to Mom’s house since late August. A decorative mirror had been replaced by seven pictures printed on square canvases.
All of them pictures of Mom and Jeff, and three of them from a trip the three of us took shortly after Jeff’s cancer diagnosis.
The images were so bright and vibrant – at once they felt like both a betrayal and a comfort.
“Mom, when did you get these printed?” I asked.
“A month ago, sweetie. Chad helped me hang them on Labor Day.”
I couldn’t believe Chad hadn’t told me about that.
Mom’s face was filled with concern. “Darlin’, I loved him. I always will, and honestly, I wished I’d thought to do something like that years ago because we all need a reminder of the good times.”
I nodded and fought against my tears.
“I’ll give you a moment, then you two can come in the kitchen.”
“You good?” Ryan murmured in my ear.
I took a deep breath. “No… I mean, yeah. I will be. It’s cool. I just hadn’t seen them.”
We wandered into the kitchen.
Mom’s eyes focused on my face. “Young lady, you said you got hit over the head, not in the face.”
So much for Abby’s make up techniques. Then again, I thought it was a futile endeavor, anyway.
“Mom—”
She aimed a pointed look at Ryan and then me. “You said there was more to it, but you couldn’t get into it on the phone. Spill, Ivy Felicia.”
My lips pursed. “I don’t know why you looked at Ryan that way, but he didn’t hit me.”
Mom crossed her arms. “Where is the man who did, then?”
“Dead. And that’s really all you need to know,” I said.
She leaned against the counter. “Dead?”
“Yes, Mom. That’s why we couldn’t go to the cops, because there are a lot of questions we wouldn’t be able to answer.”
“Not willing to answer, you mean.”
“Not without incriminating ourselves,” Ryan said.
Mom shook her head. “I cannot believe you’re hiding this from the law.”
“Mrs. Brummis, if I could go to the law without Ivy finding herself in trouble, I’d do it right now. But it simply isn’t feasible under the circumstances.”
“Why can’t you tell them what you did and leave her out of it?” she asked.
“Because we worked together,” I said.
Mom aimed a stern glare my way.
“We did,” I added.
“So you say,” Mom said.
Ryan shrugged. “She has a way with a frying pan.”
I choked on my laughter.
Mom closed her eyes and sighed, then meandered to the other side of the kitchen where her wine glass sat. She pulled down another glass and poured some pinot grigio for me and topped off her glass. “Do you drink white wine or would you prefer a Shock Top?” she asked Ryan.
“Shock Top works, thanks.”
Mom grabbed a beer and handed it to him. “Are you doing anything about what happened? Are you avoiding the police in order to save your pride?”
“Mom, seriously?”
Mom turned her attention to me. “My girl, it’s easy to see why he appeals to you, but murder is as serious as it gets. You could lose everything.”
“It wouldn’t be murder seeing as we were defending ourselves. Aggravated manslaughter - maybe, but her hitting either one with the skillet didn’t kill them,” Ryan said.
Mom’s eyes popped with alarm. “Wait! There was more than one of them?”
“We could have taken just one of them,” I said without thinking.
“Ivy!” Mom cried.
“Campbell wasn’t that smart,” I muttered.
“It’s no reason to kill him.”
“From what Boyd said, Campbell liked to… sexually assault women… so I got the impression she would have been in much more trouble if I hadn’t been there.”
Mom sighed and stayed focused on Ryan. “Why hasn’t she been staying at her place?”
“You could ask me that,” I said into my wine glass.
After a fake smile, Mom said, “I want to hear his side of it.”
“I thought they’d be able to find her because I expected her to own her home. Since she doesn’t, in theory it makes it a little bit harder for them to find her address. But only a little.”
“First time renting has helped you,” Mom said.
“But Rusty posed as a client at her office – so he knows how to get to her,” Ryan said.
“For what it’s worth, we’re staying at my place tonight,” I said.
Mom arched a brow at Ryan. “She has a gun, you could let her stay alone.”
Ryan tipped his head to the side. “I could, but I got her into this mess, I’m getting her out of it.”
“Um-hmm. Sounds like there’s a little bit of pride here after all.”
Ryan set his beer on the counter. “Perhaps, but like it or not, Ivy and I have a bond now. Everything I learn about her I like enough that I know I’d be a fool not to see what might develop between us.”
Mom stared at him long and hard. “That almost sounds rehearsed.”
I gasped.
Ryan laughed out loud. “It isn’t. The timing is awful, but life never runs according to our own timing.”
Mom dipped her head and her expression softened. “I know that’s the truth.”
“I would imagine so,” Ryan murmured.
The oven timer went off.
“You want me to get those?” I asked.
“No, sweetie. You can get some plates down instead.”