Chapter Twenty #2
“The bad news is that Mendez will realize his mistake, and he’ll want to correct it. Judging by this failed attempt, he knows what you look like, and the department you worked for. He might already have your name.”
Paul scrubbed a hand down his face. “If I’m at risk, you’re at risk.”
“Not necessarily.”
“We have the same last name.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t kill a Mendez brother. That was you.”
A deluge of images assaulted him at the reminder. Angel Mendez’s sightless eyes staring up at the sky. Blood pooling from his body in a slick trail. A child screaming for her mother, who lay crumpled on the ground.
The mother had never gotten up.
“How’s Sharma?” Paul asked hoarsely.
“She’s awake and responsive.”
“Has she said anything?”
“No. The surgeon thinks she’ll have to relearn basic skills, like speech. It’s unlikely she’ll have any memory of the incident.”
Paul closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He shouldn’t have intervened in the carjacking. His arrival had escalated the situation.
“She’s alive,” Kyle said. “Her kid is alive. You’re alive. Focus on that.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You can, and you will. You’re in the safest place possible.”
“But I’m not alone.”
His brother made a frustrated huff. “What’s your alternative? Mendez has a network of associates all over Texas, and on both sides of the border.”
“Maybe I should leave Texas.”
“That’s something to consider at a later date. Right now, you have to lay low and keep your cool. Stay behind closed doors. No gas stations, no grocery stores, and no driving on the goddamned interstate!”
Paul frowned at the edge of panic in Kyle’s voice. “Can we dial it down a notch?”
“No, we can’t, because I know you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t trust you to stay put. Right now, you’re probably thinking about going off the rails. You’ll disappear in the desert with a fucking backpack and let me wonder if you’re alive or dead.”
He had to admit, the idea appealed to him. “I won’t endanger another woman and child.”
“Your best option is to create distance from them.”
“Create distance,” he repeated.
“You have to make her want to leave. Tell her you’re done with her.”
Paul’s jaw hardened at this suggestion. It was cruel and careless.
“I get that she’s hot, and you’re enjoying her company, but let’s be realistic,” Kyle said. “You’re not setting the foundation for a long-term relationship. You met her a week ago. Man up and break it off.”
“Are you still sleeping with Allison?” Paul asked.
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re telling me to break it off and move on while you’re still screwing your ex-wife, who’s married to someone else!”
“Oh, now you’re on the moral high ground about married women?”
“I’m not on any high ground. I’m just saying it’s not easy to break things off when feelings are involved.”
“Feelings?” Kyle said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been living like a monk for too long, man.”
Paul sighed heavily. “Do you ever get tired of being bitter?”
Kyle softened his tone. “Look, you’re my brother, and I love you.
I understand what you’ve been going through.
You were the first responder at an active scene.
A kid was in danger. The mother got shot.
You got shot. It was traumatic for everyone involved, me included.
I rushed to the ER as soon as I heard. When I got there, you were covered in blood. I thought you were going to die.”
Paul had been unconscious at the time, and he remembered very little of the aftermath. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that you had a close call. You’re trying to recover, physically and emotionally. This woman with a kid comes along, and she’s extremely attractive. You feel an instant connection. It’s like a second chance. A do-over for your worst memory.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Are you sure?”
Paul paced the room, raking a hand through his hair. The walls were freshly painted, the tile gleaming. He wanted to throw his phone through the window and kick holes in the drywall. He wanted to destroy everything.
“You have time,” Kyle said. “Your cover is intact. You can handle this rationally.”
“How much time?”
“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” Kyle said and hung up.
Paul grabbed his cowboy hat and strode outside into the oppressive midday heat.
He embraced the discomfort. It felt like a punishment for past sins.
The mattress and bed frame had been deposited near the front porch by a delivery worker.
Instead of hauling the items inside, Paul moved past them.
He wasn’t in the mood to set up a bed he’d never use.
He wouldn’t be making love to Vanessa tonight, or any other night.
He climbed behind the wheel of his truck and left a spray of gravel.
There was a spot on the other side of the lake he’d noticed during one of his leisurely afternoon boat rides.
It was private, with a cluster of trees around a small clearing.
He’d imagined taking Vanessa there to watch the stars—or some other moonlit activity.
They wouldn’t be doing that, either.
Paul maneuvered his truck down the bumpy dirt road that bordered the lake.
He got as close as he could to the clearing and pulled over.
The path to the shore was unmarked and overgrown.
Thistles tugged at the legs of his jeans as he strode through the underbrush.
When he reached the edge of the lake, he looked across its sun-dappled expanse.
From this vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the cabins.
He judged the distance at nearly a mile.
Too far to interpret facial expressions, but close enough to keep a watchful eye on the inhabitants.
While he brooded there, Vanessa came outside in her lavender outfit.
Her dark hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun.
His chest ached with the need to take it down, and make it messier.
Paul lowered himself to a sitting position on the bank, though he doubted she could see him, even if she happened to glance this direction.
When she moved out of range, he reclined on his back and gazed up at the leafy branches, interspersed with brilliant blue sky.
To his chagrin, he felt emotional, although his eyes remained dry.
This goddamned desert heat. A man couldn’t even tear up out here.
He cursed his bad luck, his parents’ deaths, and the bullet that had nearly taken his life. He’d survived a gunshot wound, but he hadn’t avoided heartbreak. Why had he been given a tantalizing glimpse of happiness, only to have it yanked away?
Paul indulged in a maudlin fantasy of his own death.
He hadn’t been wearing a protective vest at the time of the shooting.
If the bullet had pierced the center of his chest, instead of his shoulder, he’d have died at the scene.
His brother would have been devastated by the loss of another family member.
Unlike Paul, Kyle wasn’t too closed off to cry in public.
He’d wept openly at their parents’ funerals.
Paul pictured his body in a coffin, and Kyle’s face crumpled in sorrow, while Allison and the boys stood by his side.
For some reason, imagining this sad scenario lifted his spirits.
He was being ridiculous. He was strong and alive, and not without resources.
He could work things out. Paul straightened to a sitting position and considered his options.
None involved continuing his affair with Vanessa.
He doubted it would be possible to salvage their relationship.
He had to be satisfied with keeping her safe.
The safest place for Vanessa and Emily was at her father’s house.
But how could Paul make her go? She’d fought hard for this summer retreat.
She wouldn’t leave unless he did something unforgivable, like cheat on her or yell at Emily.
Even then, he couldn’t picture her giving up the cabin.
What he could picture, quite easily, was her dad or brother coming over to kick his ass.
Making a sound of frustration, he rose to his feet. He couldn’t take Kyle’s advice. He wouldn’t be cruel to her to put distance between them.
He had to leave her, because he couldn’t make her leave him.