Baby, Don't Go Page 24

  He found himself talking to her back and lunged to grab her arm as she headed for the door.

  Snapping it free, she whirled back to face him. “Don’t touch me. Just…keep your hands to yourself.”

  He held them wide in entreaty. “Don’t go, Daisy. We can work this out—I know we can.”

  “No. We can’t.” But she turned to walk back into the living room, and for a moment he thought she had changed her mind. She simply collected her gun off the entertainment center, however, and stuffed it in her holster, then stormed into the bedroom, where she started throwing clothes helter-skelter into a suitcase.

  He could barely breathe past the knot in his chest as he stood in the doorway watching her. “I love you.”

  She froze for an instant. Then she resumed stuffing her boots into the corners of the bag. “You don’t know the first damn thing about love. Or you never would have lied to me.”

  “I didn’t know I loved you when I lied about Douglass! And by the time I realized that I did, I’d dug myself a pit clear up to my eyeballs.”

  “Yeah, well, we both know how easily you say the words, don’t we, Nick? Whether you mean them or not.” She clicked the locks shut on the suitcase and dragged it off the bed. Bits of apparel stuck out either side.

  “When I went off on Douglass tonight, Daisy?” The words felt like razors, slicing at his throat. “That was because he threatened you. I heard that and I just went apeshit.”

  “Quite unnecessarily,” she said coolly. “I can take care of myself.”

  He didn’t step aside when she got to the doorway and she stopped in front of him. Her chin elevated. “Get out of my way, Coltrane.”

  “No. Please. You’ve gotta listen—”

  “Move. If you make me set all this shit down to wrestle my way past you”—she indicated the weapon’s case she’d collected on the way across the room, as well as her suitcase and little hand bag—“I’ll shoot your kneecaps off—I swear I will. Either that, or that big ole dick you’re so proud of.”

  He stepped out of her way. His gut churning in sick despair, he watched helplessly as she grabbed the keys to the rental car off the trunk and slammed out the front door.

  23

  REGGIE opened his door, took one look at Daisy, and said, “Oh, hell. What did he do?”

  “He broke my heart, Reg.” She allowed him to take some of her luggage, then docilely followed when he grasped her arm and guided her into his apartment. She didn’t know quite how she’d gotten here. One minute she’d been throwing clothes into the suitcase and the next thing she knew she was outside Reggie’s door. In between was mostly a blur of neon streaking past the windshield. “He’s diabolical,” she informed the back of her friend’s head. “He sucked me in against my better judgement and made me fall in love with him all over again. Then he turned around and broke my heart. Again. And it hurts, Reggie. God, it hurts so much.” Scalding tears rose in her eyes, but she blinked furiously to dispel them. Damned if Nick Coltrane would make her cry!

  “That son of a bitch.” Reggie seated her. She was vaguely aware of him chafing her hands between his own, then he was gone. He disappeared into the kitchen, and she stared blankly into space until he reappeared a moment later with a cup of tea that he extended to her. “Here. God bless Insta Hot. Drink up, Daise; it’s a nice, soothing chamomile. And look, I’ve got some of those pumpkin biscotti you like.”

  She knew her world was every bit as shattered as she’d feared when she looked down and saw he had arranged the biscotti on a plate from the prized B40 dinnerware he’d bought at Biordi’s. Usually he wouldn’t let her anywhere near the set, claiming she lacked the necessary appreciation and handling skills. “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice. She picked up the plate and carefully set it in her lap, her fingers curling around the scalloped edges. And the dam broke, sending scalding tears splashing down her cheeks.

  “Heyyy.” Reggie sat down next to her. Slinging an arm around her, he plucked the plate away with his free hand and set it on the table, then pulled her into a comforting bear hug. He sat quietly while she cried it out, occasionally patting her shoulder and rubbing his chin against the crown of her head. His warmth gradually penetrated, and when the tears finally abated and she was panting through her mouth because her nose was too stuffed up to breathe, he said, “That lousy shit,” with the ready willingness to take her side that made him her best friend. “What’d he do—walk out again?”

  “He said he loved me,” she wailed.

  “The bastard rat!” Then he went still. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Not when it’s a dirty rotten lie!” She knuckled tears from her eyes and sniffed inelegantly, wiping her nose against his shirtfront. Then she pushed upright, sitting back on the couch to look him in the eye. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word, Reg. God, he is such a liar. He was all set to sell his photos to the tabloids!”

  “Oh, shit.” That drew Reggie’s attention away from the mess she’d made on his shirt like nothing else could, because he knew better than most how it must have made her feel to discover it. “I’m sorry, kiddo. What a dog. I gotta ask, though: whose photos was he gonna sell?”

  “Ones he took of—get this—J. Fitzgerald Douglass, of all people, getting it on with a young woman at a wedding.”

  “Get outta here! The man’s a saint.”

  “According to Nick, the saint is on film doing the wild thing in glorious Technicolor with someone who’s not his wife. Which led directly to Douglass siccing some pretty nasty characters on our boy Nick to retrieve said film. Which, of course, is where I came in.”

  “Wow. J. Fitzgerald Douglass. That’s a tough one to swallow, but I guess if you say it’s so, it’s so.” He reached out and patted the knee she’d pulled up on the cushion and said with a gentle smile, “You know, though, Daisy, there is a bright side to all this. At least Nick’s not sleeping with a married woman.”

  “Yeah. I’m really comforted.”

  “I’m sorry, babe, I’m not trying to make light of your pain. I’m just trying to figure out how everything works. Like why did Coltrane choose now to sell to the tabloids?”

  “Huh?”

  “Given the kind of folks he photographs, he must have had ample opportunity to sell his stuff to them in the past. So why now?”

  “He says it’s because Mo was in trouble.”

  “That’s his sister, right?”

  “Yes.” Daisy opened her mouth to say more, but a hard pounding on the front door made her jerk and she slapped her hand to her breast to contain the panicked thump of her heart.

  Reggie pushed up off the couch. “Now, who the hell could that be? Hold that thought, Daise—I’d better deal with whoever it is before they break down the Damn door.” He yelled, “Hold your water—I’m coming already!” Then, his voice dropping back into its normal register, he said with a rueful smile, “And here I thought it was going to be a boring Friday night.”

  While he went to answer the door, Daisy clicked open the latches on her suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans. She quickly shucked out of her evening slacks and donned them, then reached for the discarded slacks. She was pulling the inside holster from the waistband when Reggie opened the door.

  “Is she here?” she heard Nick’s voice demand, and she froze, her nerves zinging.

  “She doesn’t want to see you, Coltrane.”

  “Though shit. She’s just going to have to deal with me anyway.”

  He must have pushed his way past Reggie, because the next thing she knew he was in the living room doorway. Her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest and she tucked the loaded holster inside the back of her jeans, then shoved her hands in her front pockets for good measure to keep from pointing the Glock at him. She was through letting him force her into unprofessional acts.

  Hands on his hips, Nick regarded her through narrowed eyes. “Good, you’re still packed. Let’s go—I’ve got a cab waiting.”

 
; She offered a creative suggestion as to what he could do with the cab. “I’m sure as hell not going anywhere with you.”

  Feigning nonchalance, she sat on the edge of the cushion and pulled on a pair of socks. “How’d you find me, anyhow?” She reached for a boot that was poking up in the corner of the case.

  “I called Benny at the Motherlode and asked him where Reggie lived. When you weren’t at your place, I figured you’d come here. Listen, I know I screwed up—”

  “Fucking-A you screwed up,” Reggie interjected. “Do you have any idea how much she hates the tabloids?”

  Nick didn’t take his eyes off Daisy. “Considering my dad was responsible for her mother being smeared across the front page of a number of them, yeah, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  “You don’t know squat,” Daisy said hotly. “You don’t have the first idea what it was like to go back to the ’burbs where the neighbors wouldn’t even speak to her. Where for months their kids catcalled every damn time she stepped outside the door, calling her an uppity whore and worse.” God, she’d hated them for that, for their small minds and their mean mouths.

  Nick sank to his heels in front of her. “And how many of them did you take on for dissing your mama, Daisy? One? Two? The entire neighborhood?” He tried to take her hands, but his touch made her ache for things she didn’t dare hope for and she shook him off.

  Reggie, the traitor, answered for her. “Try every last one of them. That’s how Daise and me met.”

  Nick looked up in surprise. “You were neighbors?”

  “I lived a couple of blocks away. I came across her getting her butt kicked one day by three boys who thought beating up a girl—or a fag—made them big men, and I decided to even the score.”

  “We whipped their asses, too,” Daisy said.

  “Yeah.” Reggie shrugged. “And the rest, as they say, is history. We’ve been best buds ever since.”

  “Then you can probably appreciate why I didn’t tell her I was considering selling my stuff to the rags. She never would have agreed to take my case.”

  “So—and correct me if I’m wrong here—what you’re saying is that you lied to her for her own good?”

  “Hell no, I did it for my own good.” He turned his full attention back on Daisy. “I needed you and I lied. So sue me. But don’t shut me out, Blondie, because like I told you earlier, that was before I fell in love with you.”

  “And like I told you, you wouldn’t know love if it came up and bit you on your solid gold butt.” She placed a newly Doc Martened foot on his chest and straightened her leg with a gentle thrust. At least, she meant it to be gentle—she really did.

  But somehow he flew backward and landed several feet away.

  Pushing up on one elbow, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and said, “Fine. We can work on the relationship. But what about that professionalism you’re so all-fired proud of? You just gonna leave me staked out for Douglass to destroy? He’d be more than happy to slit my throat, especially after tonight.”

  “Good. It’ll save me the trouble.”

  “Jesus, Daisy. Did it ever occur to you that when I made the decision to sell to the tabloids, it was with the full knowledge that it would cost me my career? Betraying the discretion my clients have come to depend on would’ve destroyed what it’s taken me years to build up—and, cupcake, that’s not a prospect that thrilled me.” She simply looked at him and he raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dammit, it was the last thing I wanted to do, I’m telling you, but Mo needed the money! What was I supposed to do, let her go to jail?”

  Daisy straightened. “What do you mean, go to jail?”

  Nick looked uncomfortable. Climbing to his feet, he busied himself brushing off his slacks. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything; it’s Mo’s story to tell.”

  Her spine stiffened; her chin raised. “Yes, of course. You wouldn’t want a little nobody like me privy to the family’s dirty laundry.”

  “Dammit, that’s not what I meant! Just listen to m—”

  “Go home, Coltrane.” She was suddenly very tired. “I’m through listening. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

  “We have a boatload left to say to each other,” he disagreed. He took a giant step toward her, but Reggie suddenly inserted himself between them. Nick looked at him and seemed to grow larger. Hostility radiated off him in waves and his chest rose and fell in rhythm to his heavy breathing. “Move.”

  “No. You heard her. She wants you to go home.”

  Nick’s eyes flashed blue fire. “Get out of my way, Reggie, or I’ll squash you like a bug.”

  “You can try. But do you honestly believe that will help your case?”

  Nick looked at Daisy over Reggie’s head. Her heart raced like a runaway train, and for one mad moment she wasn’t sure just what she wanted—for him to do as she’d demanded, or to have him fight to make her see things his way. Then the aggression suddenly left him and he stepped back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. But he clearly wasn’t happy. He looked down his nose at her with a snooty-cool expression she’d never seen on his face before.

  “If you think I’m going to beg you to love me back, Blondie, you’re crazy. And to hell with your professional services, too—who needs ’em? My shoulder’s pretty much back up to speed now, so I can fight my own battles. But if you change your mind, little girl, you know where to find me. I’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

  Then he turned on his heel and headed for the door. A second later, it clicked closed behind him.

  No! Pure reflex sent her surging to her feet. Don’t leave me. She stood rooted to the spot, her hands opening and closing at her sides. He was gone. Dully, she sat down again.

  “Go after him, Daisy.”

  She looked up at Reggie, blinking to bring him into focus. “What?” Exhaustion sucked at every bone and muscle in her body.

  “Go after him. I’d lay odds he loves you, and if you hurry, you can probably catch him.”

  “It’s too late for us. We’re so different anyway that it’d never work. But, you know…he was right about one thing.” She jumped back to her feet with sudden resolve, stripping off her bustier. “I do still have a professional obligation to him.”

  “Yes, you do.” Reggie fished a bra out of the suitcase and tossed it to her. “And that’s not something you can just walk away from, or you’d never be able to hold your head up again around your peers.”

  “And besides, I’ve got his rental car. I mean, he was pretty upset with me when he left; he could call the cops and report it stolen. Then where would I be?”

  “Up the creek, sister.” He rummaged up a lightweight shell-pink sweater set and handed it over. “Here. Put these on and get going. Before you get busted for grand theft, auto.”

  “Right.” She grabbed the car keys and scooped up her suitcase and weapons case. Then, stopping to give Reggie a quick buss on the lips, she headed for the door. She paused there to look back at him. Hoping she didn’t sound half as needy and uncertain as she felt, she asked softly, “Am I being the worst sort of fool, Reg, or do you truly think he was serious about loving me?”

  “I think it’s a distinct possibility, Daise. I really do.”

  “Which? That I’m being a fool?”

  “No. That he loves you. I’d put money on it. Hell, girl, I’d put money on you any day.”

  “Thanks, Reg. I needed to hear that.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Besides, I guess I’ll never find out if I don’t take a chance.”

  “Honey chile, you were born to take a chance. You just never knew it would be a risk of the heart.”

  She gave him a weak smile, but straightened her shoulders. “Yeah. Who knew that would be so much scarier than facing down pistol-toting maniacs?” Then she shrugged and headed out the door.

  Nick had barely hit the street before he began to regret letting his ego get in the way of his objective. He should have checked it at the door, but i
nstead he’d allowed it to muscle its way into his exchange with Daisy. Way to go, champ.

  Damn.

  Reaching the waiting cab, he opened the door but then paused, looking up at the bow-front window of Reggie’s apartment. Maybe he should go back and try to do it right this time.

  Then again, maybe not. He rolled his shoulders uneasily and climbed into the taxi, giving the driver his address. The problem was, he doubted he would do it right. He kept picturing Daisy looking at him with those big brown eyes so filled with hurt, clearly distrusting him right down to the ground because he’d lied to her. And he had a bad, bad feeling that one more face-to-face would send any attempt to do right clear out the window and him spinning into caveman mode.

  And if he tried that, she’d probably stomp him flat.

  Face it—he wasn’t really the caveman type. But he had a nasty feeling he’d fail to remember that until after he’d already done something irretrievably stupid. She’d gotten his machismo all in an uproar, and he was feeling dangerously reckless.

  And scared. Scared she’d remain too angry to ever come back. Scared she’d write him off and he would feel this awful for the rest of his life. He wasn’t accustomed to being afraid of anything, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one damn bit.

  The taxi pulled up in front of the gate to his landlord’s estate and he absentmindedly paid the cabbie and climbed out. The car pulled away from the curb as he punched in the numbers to the security code.

  Hands thrust in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels while the gates made their slow sweep outward. Damn. How could he convince Blondie that his feelings were real, and that the last thing he planned was to make a career out of lying to her?

  Hands suddenly grabbed him and spun him around. Nick struggled to get his hands out of his pockets. “What the hell?”