Chapter Thirty-three
Carter
Cyrus freaking Kelly.
I hate the words. I hate the man. His name rolls around in my head, an unwanted guest taking up my every thought as I mindlessly work on an old Nissan.
He was at my house. My sanctuary. He was so close to finding her.
What would he have done had he seen her?
Various scenarios play out in my head, none of which calm my growing anxiety.
I have to do something. But without knowing the whole story, what can I really do?
Someone gets my attention, waving from the other side of the service bay window.
I wipe my hands on a rag and head through the door since nobody is manning the counter at the moment.
Jonah Calloway may be the only Calloway who would be caught dead in a Cruz-owned business. Maybe it’s because his wife, Heather, was once married to a McQuaid. He, unlike most of the Calloways, doesn’t take sides in the age-old family rivalry.
“Hey, Jonah,” I say. “How’s your Friday going?”
“It’d be going a whole lot better if my check engine light weren’t on. Again.”
I shake my head. Jonah’s wife got millions when she divorced Robert McQuaid, yet Jonah still drives an eight-year-old car, runs a security business that, like this place, probably does little more than break even, and—Wait… he owns a security business. This can’t be a coincidence.
I grab the diagnostic scanner. “Let’s go check it out.”
On the way to his car, he glances around. “How’s business? I saw the new place the other day.”
“Don’t ask.”
“That bad?”
I shrug. “Nothing we can’t handle. But I appreciate you coming here.”
“Us small business owners have to stick together, right?”
I plug the scanner into his OBD port and it reads the trouble code from the engine computer. “Yeah, we do. About that. How about I make you a deal?”
His head cocks as I exit his car. “Deal?”
“Maybe not so much a deal as a barter.” I nod to the scanner.
“It’s your O2 sensor. Parts and labor will set you back about three fifty.
” I lean against the car. “I’m in need of information.
You work in security. I’ll replace the part for free if you dig up anything you can find on a particular individual. ”
He rubs his chin. “Does this have something to do with the woman and child who’ve been staying with you? You need a background check done on her?”
“It’s not her I’m worried about. It’s her ex. He’s threatening her, but I’m not exactly sure why. The police haven’t been helpful to her in the past.”
“Sounds like you need a private investigator. That’s not exactly my forte.”
“Surely you have resources.” I don’t add that no way could I afford a private investigator, not with everything going on here at work.
“I might know a guy who owes me a favor. What can you tell me?”
“His name is Cyrus Kelly. He lives in New York City. Drives a Mercedes. Mid-forties. He’s a divorce lawyer with his own firm. He’s a gambler. Owes a lot of money to a bookie.”
Jonah types notes into his phone. “What exactly are you wanting to find out?”
“Anything. Everything.”
He looks up. “So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you may not be on the market much longer.” He cocks his head. “You in love with this Kenna woman? That’s why you’re dead set on keeping her safe?”
“It’s complicated.”
He chuckles. “You say that like you aren’t talking to the Calloway who married the McQuaid.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess you know complicated.”
“Deal.” He holds out his hand. “No guarantees, though. I have no idea what Ethan will be able to find out or how long it will take.”
“I appreciate anything you or he can do.” I pat the roof of his SUV. “I can have her fixed by the end of the day. You need a ride anywhere?”
He points across the street. “Nah. I’ve got some business to take care of at the bank. Heather or Dani can pick me up after.”
“How is Dani?”
He beams with pride. In addition to being a stepdad to four of my McQuaid cousins, and father to three of his own sons with his late wife, he and Heather share one child together.
“She’s a senior. And, proud dad moment, she’ll graduate third in her class.
She hasn’t committed to a university yet, but we’re hoping it’ll be nearby. ”
“Congratulations. Will she join the family business?”
“I can only hope. But she says she wants to do some self-discovery first, whatever that means.”
Dax pulls in, towing a smashed-up Ford Taurus.
Jonah looks from his car to the Taurus and back to me. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full today. I’ll leave you to it and let you know when I find out anything.”
“Thanks a lot, man.”
I have no idea if anything will come of Jonah’s inquiry, but I breathe a little easier for the rest of the day knowing I’m at least doing something.
~ ~ ~
I stayed away yesterday like she asked, even though all I wanted to do after work was drive to the cabin. But today is Saturday, and the shop is only open until noon. I race home like a kid on his way to the school dance and pack a few things.
“You sure you don’t mind me coming home late?” I ask Christian when I drop him at Dax’s place.
His eyes roll. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
I get out of the car and carry his overnight bag into the building. “You know it’s not because I don’t want to spend time with you, right?”
“Let’s see.” He taps his temple as if deep in thought. “Hang out with your son, who’s just going to ignore you in favor of a video game, or spend time with the girl you’re hot for. There’s no real choice there.”
I narrow my brow. “The girl I’m hot for?”
“Sorry.” He laughs. “The woman you’re in love with,” he says in his best game show host voice.
I step back. “You think I’m in love with her?”
I mean, I am in love with her. But I wasn’t aware I was that obvious about it.
“Dad? Seriously? You aren’t fooling anyone. And honestly, I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“I know. We have a great life. But I’m practically an adult now. It’s about time you do something for yourself.”
I ruffle his hair knowing he’s way too old to be hair-ruffled, but I do it anyway. “You’re pretty great.” I drop his bag in the foyer. But I give him one stern reminder before I leave. “No going back to the house, okay? No parties.”
He gives me crazy eyes. “As if.”
I point at him. “And you can go to Bug’s house only if Asher or Allie are there.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. I do know the rules.”
“You’re also a Cruz. As a group, we tend not to follow them. Especially as teenagers.”
“Dad, please go. I’m fine. I won’t set Uncle Dax’s apartment on fire, get drunk, or get anyone pregnant, okay?”
“Fine.” Pulling out my wallet, I hand him a twenty. “For dinner. I know Dax doesn’t cook.”
“Thanks, but I’ll probably eat at Bug’s.”
My head shakes. Because of course he will.
The entire way to the cabin, my body is thrumming.
I’ve only been away from Kenna for a day and a half, but that’s far too long in my book.
She knows I’m coming. We texted last night.
Or more specifically, I texted her. She responded, and I can tell she wants to see me, but I also get the sense she’s keeping her guard up.
She’s still convinced she’ll have to leave.
And I’m still going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening.
My good mood immediately wanes when I arrive at the cabin and Kenna opens the door wrapped in a blanket, looking like death warmed over.
I step inside. “Jesus, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sick.”
“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”
She shuffles back to the couch and slumps onto it like she has no energy whatsoever. “It wasn’t that bad yesterday. Hit me like a truck today.”
I drop my things, follow her, and put a hand to her head. “You feel warm.”
“I feel like my whole body has been put through a blender.”
Amelia tackles me from behind, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Carter!”
I turn and pull her up into my arms. “Hey, pumpkin.” Instinctively, my hand touches her forehead, and I’m relieved she doesn’t seem sick too.
“Sorry you drove all the way here for nothing,” Kenna says, eyes half open.
“It’s not for nothing. When was the last time you ate?”
Her lips sneer in disgust. “Not hungry.”
I set Amelia down. “What have you eaten today?”
“Cereal for breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch.” She beams. “I made it myself.”
I look over at the kitchen counter to see it covered with globs of grape jelly.
Kenna puts a hand over her eyes as if the light bothers her. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I just—”
“Hey. You’re sick. You shouldn’t be cooking or cleaning. That’s what I’m here for.” I walk over to my bag and pull out several games. “And to provide entertainment.”
“You brought Candy Land!” Amelia squeals and dances around.
“You bet I did. After I make your mom some soup, you and I are going to have a game day.” I motion to the bag. “There are others in there.”
Amelia immediately starts digging through the bag. She pulls out all the games and then the other things. She holds up a candle. “Why do we need candles? The lights work.” Then she gets out the bottle of wine and the box of chocolates. “Ooooooo… chocolate!”
I swipe them from her. “Those were supposed to be for your mom.” Then I hand them back. “I guess they’re yours now. But save them for after dinner, okay, kiddo?”
Kenna’s eyes open. “You brought wine and chocolate? And candles?”
I point to the fireplace, then shrug.
She looks guilty. “I’m sorry I ruined the night you had planned.”
I tuck her blanket around her. “You just rest.”
After Kenna gets down half a bowl of soup, a few crackers, and two Tylenol, I settle her into bed.
The rest of the afternoon went exactly like this: Candy Land, four games of tic-tac-toe, outside to build a Frosty, hot chocolate, one hour on the PlayStation, and currently, we’re on our fifteenth game of Go Fish.
Amelia puts her cards down. “Carter? I don’t feel so good.” Then she turns and vomits.
Ah, and there it is. I shake my head. Shoulda seen that coming.
I get her cleaned up, change her clothes, and put her to bed right next to Kenna.
Before I can leave the room, Kenna reaches out to me. “Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her.
“I mean, stay here. On the bed. I just want to hear your voice. There’s something about it that makes me feel better. You always make me feel better.”
I don’t know if it’s her or the fever talking, but I snuggle in next to her, wrap an arm around her warm body, and whisper-spill my guts out.
I tell her about my childhood. About Christian.
About the shop and how I’ll have to go have that talk with John Walker at the bank soon.
And then I tell the funny story of the same John Walker dating my mom before she and my dad got together.
Every time I think she’s drifted off to sleep, her hand moves and grabs mine, a silent invitation to keep talking. I think I spend half the night regaling her with tales of my life. I doubt she’s really listening, but I couldn’t care less. Because she’s in my arms.
When her breathing evens out, her hand falls away, and I hear a sexy little snore, I whisper the one thing I haven’t said. The one thing I’ve wanted to say for weeks.
“I love you.”