Deadly Ties (7 page)

“You’re impossible.”

“I try to be, but it’s good to know where the other stands, so I should be honest and say I’m not looking for anything either. I just split from one clingy woman who couldn’t respect what I do. I’m in no hurry to tangle with another one.”

Her grin flashed. “But I think that might depend on the tangle. Does sweaty sex count as tangling?” Her eyes narrowed on his. “And just for the record, I have
never
been clingy, nor would I be with men like you.”

“Men like me?” he asked as she started to get out.

“Rude, self-absorbed men who know their appeal to the opposite sex.”

He grinned. “Find me appealing do you?”

She ignored his remark. “Thanks for dropping by today.”

“You’re welcome.” He stared at her and wished he could clearly see her eyes. “Just for my side of the record, I enjoyed today.”

Taylor opened the door and hot air sweltered in. He was already rolling down her window, leaning over the console into the passenger seat. Her door shut with a soft click.

“Try not to provoke anyone today, Taylor.”

Her laugh danced out. “I know. You don’t count towards my daily goal.”

She started to straighten, but then leaned back into the window giving him a glance down her shirt. “By the way, I enjoyed today with you too.”

Before he could compute that, Taylor was already at her car and behind the wheel.

Gavin smiled all the way to his office.

37

Texas was hot in June. Hotter than hell. In fact, it was rumored through the prisons that Satan made Texas as a vacation spot. Apparently, the devil decided even he didn’t care for the place, leaving the land to its prickly pears and rattlesnakes, scorpions and other assortments of lovely things. Nice load of bullshit, but Nina Fisher didn’t care either way.

Large, circulating fans swirled the hot sticky air at Valleyview State Penitentiary near Gatesville, Texas. The female population contained some really bad bitches. A few were even on death row. Nina didn’t care to think about them. If Ryan ever remembered everything that went on that last night, she might be one of them.

Damn Jonny Hayes. That bastard was still out on parole. He’d left out the window when he’d heard the sirens the night Ryan fell through the damn glass. Nina really wanted to nail Jonny’s ass for killing that narc agent--which in her opinion started the entire nightmare--but it was hard to do that without nailing her own. No, she’d bide her time. He was another one that she owed. Jonny, Ryan, the judge and of course that social worker slut and her husband. Yeah, one day she’d get them all.

“Fisher.”

Her name jerked her attention back. The guard, Rod, held a package up. All of the packages were sniffed and x-rayed before the inmates got them to make certain nothing was in them. That was all well and good, but once the package was past the checkpoint was when you could get the goods.

A book. Hot damn. She hurried through the melee of bodies.

“Fisher’s got a boyfriend on the outside,” someone said.

“Wonder what the idiot sent the bitch.”

Nina ignored the comments of the other inmates and walked on. Just as she grabbed the book, she caught the slight wink Rod gave her. Thank God! She was starting to wonder. She looked at the title and tried not to laugh out loud.
Living With Addiction: Making a Life from the
Hollows.
Yeah, right.

Nina hurried over to a window set high and narrow in the wall. No bars, but that didn’t matter, couldn’t get out if she wanted to. The light outside was a dull gray color tinged with a murky green. Thunder occasionally disturbed the sultry air. Maybe a freaking tornado would come and blow the damn building away.

Prison life sucked. It sucked big. Who in their right fucking mind got up at three-thirty in the morning, every morning? Inmates, that’s who. Breakfast at four, and work started at six. They had three hours a day for “personal” time. Basically, the hour for recreational activity, weights, walk around, exercise, and the two hours for classes. Nina was enrolled in Substance Abuse Education and Spiritual Growth. Both were a complete joke. Just about every damn person in her

38

Sub class was either stoned or jonesing when they got there. Everyone knew how to score a hit, to get a bump, regardless of whatever rules and regulations there were. Money and other things were available. This was a woman’s prison, so if there wasn’t money, other ‘favors’ could be given. And Nina was currently working on that. Rod would be her ticket out of here. She was sure of it, but she’d have to be careful. It was frowned upon for the guards to fraternize with their female inmates. ‘Course most of the guards and workers here were female, but a good many of them were males. Thank, God.

Again she looked out the window. Why in the hell was it called Valleyview? Was there a single damn valley in sight? Not that she could remember from her trip here, or from what she could see once she’d gotten inside.

There wasn’t much about the trip from Austin to here that she did remember, save for the blinding rage she’d felt. But she’d quickly learned to hide that after she’d gotten here. It had only taken a few ‘cell times’ for her to live for the recreation hour. The weights gave her focus on something other than her shitty luck and whose fault that was. The classes were earned through good behavior. Cell time restricted all an inmate’s time to the cell. You even had to eat in the damn thing.

Course it could have been worse, she could have gotten solitary that time after she’d gotten in the fight, but thank God she didn’t. God and Rod. Yeah.

Nina laughed at that little rhyme.

Later that night as she lay alone in her small cell. The walls were so close she could have touched them both at the same time if she’d so desired, which she did not. Nina held the book under her pillow waiting for lights out.

After the noises died down, and turned into those of nightly prison life, Nina got the book out. Someone, probably a newbie, cried out in their sleep, or maybe they weren’t sleeping after all.

The spine ripped away, and she could feel the small plastic bag in her hand. As quietly as possible, she opened it up and sniffed it in the pale light.

This was good, she would bet it was. Please let it be. That was all she needed, some cut meth. Yeah, nothing like snorting laundry detergent or horse tranques, or God knows what else.

Nina hoped to hell Rod knew his contact and that this was legit shit.

The tear of several pages ripped the air. She rolled one up and used the others to straighten her carefully measured line. She’d have to save the rest. Who knew when Rod would come through again.

Anticipation raced through her as she leaned down and snorted the powder up the make-do tube. It hit her nose, burning until the numbness set it. With her head tilted back she waited for gravity to help. Finally she felt the shit drop, the back of her throat burned like it was on fire.

Sweet pain.

Ahh…. A moan sighed out. About damn time. On a contented, almost sated sigh, she leaned back and enjoyed her well-earned bump. Her world was as it should be again.

Well, almost. The meth straightened her head, giving her clarity, so that her plans and ideas solidified within her mind.

No, it wouldn’t be long now. While her high lasted, she plotted, planned and thought up

39

and discarded half a dozen scenarios.

Stick close to the truth, yeah. She’d win Rod over that way. Cry and plead and he’d probably buy it. No doubt he would. Then, she’d get him to help her figure out how in the hell to get out of this place. Maybe if she was really good she could apply for one of the other classes, those in the fields. Might work. She’d have to get closer to Rod first, figure out exactly how things played. No way she was leaving all the planning up to a dick. No, she did that already and look where it got her. The trick was to play him, play on his weaknesses, drop little ideas, plan most of it and make him think he was doing a great thing. Righting a wrong.

A soft chuckle escaped. Righting a wrong.

Oh she couldn’t wait to start ‘righting’.

40

“I’m going to go practice my music while dinner cooks.” Ryan said as he started down the hallway. They’d just finished setting the table.

“Okay.” Taylor ruffled his hair. “What are you playing?”

He shrugged. “Ms. Johnson gave me an Irish reel. It’s really fast and neat and I’ve already got it mostly figured out.” Ryan stopped, cupping the newel post with both hands.

“Goodness. You got it today and have it mostly figured out?”

Again he shrugged, then turned and raced up the stairs.

That boy never ceased to amaze her.

Taylor watched him go, heard the click of his door. She turned to the entry table to check the mail and realized she hadn’t gotten it yet. Swinging the door open, she almost stepped into the raised fist. Taylor swallowed the yelp.

“Good evening.” Gavin Kinncaid stood on the porch, lowering his hand back to his side.

“Umm.…” Would he always take her completely off guard? She hated that. Well, mostly.

What was he doing here? “Hi.”

His smile tugged a flutter from her stomach. “I probably should have called, but I was wondering if you wanted to, or if you could, go out tonight.”

He wanted to go out with her? As in a date? “What happened to no time for us clingy, stupid women?”

“Never said you were stupid.”

Stepping back, she gestured for him to come in. “Good answer. Well, I do thank you for the offer, but I’ve already started dinner. In fact, it’s in the oven.”

“Oh,” he said.

He walked past her and she couldn’t help but admire the way his dark trousers fit against his behind before falling down those long legs. She wondered if he was a boxer or brief kind of guy. Jerking her eyes up, she decided it didn’t matter and shook her head at herself. She caught his speculative reflection in the mirror studying her with a quirk of brow and smirk. Her cheeks flamed. Taylor started to shut the door before she remembered the mail. The man made her forget her own head half the time. And why was that? Had absolutely
nothing
to do with those muscles or the perfect body or that wicked smile or the eyes …oh God, those eyes. She needed help. Lots and lots of help. She reached around grabbed the mail out of the slot. One letter got hung on the metal mail slot, and she heard it tear as she ripped it free.

As she shut the door, a quick glance at him showed her the single Gerber daisy he carried.

Pumpkin orange petals surrounded the yellow face. He bought her a flower? Her stomach did another roll.

Taylor licked her lips.

“I should have called. Sorry.” He jerked his hand and a single petal fell to the floor as he

41

held the blossom out to her. Something inside her smiled as deeply as she knew the dimples creased the sides of her mouth.

“Thank you and what do you want?” She reached for the flower and her fingers brushed his, sending a little jolt through her system. Her eyes flew up to meet the dark blue of his. God she could get lost in those cobalt depths, just lost and lost. A moment passed and then another and all she could think about was how incredible his eyes were, how his gaze could capture hers with the least bit of effort, or how the slightest meeting of touches made butterflies dance in her middle. A soft sigh escaped as he gave a small smile.

“You’re welcome and to ask you to dinner.”

Music drifted down the stairwell, notes and scales stringed through the air, muted, yet still discernible. His gaze rose to the ceiling. The moment was broken.

“I take it the young musician is practicing?” His hands went to his pockets and he rocked slightly back onto his heels. The movement made him seem nervous, but she knew that wasn’t right. Men like Gavin oozed charm and confidence and girls tended to stutter and stare. Not her.

But she
might
if she fell for the charming, sort--which she didn’t.

“Umm.… Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. Wanted to polish up an Irish reel he learned today.” “Cool. I bet Mom has some reels, if he’s into that. Mom’s from Ireland.”

Another silence stretched. She was so damn out of practice at this. And what was
this
?

She’d had friends to dinner before. Herbs wafted and scented the air. Dinner!

“I know you asked to go out, and thanks for that, but would you like to stay for dinner?” He just stared at her. Without taking a breath, she hurried on. “It’s nothing fancy, just baked chicken, rice and salad. But, you’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like.” Deep breath.

There was his smile, full and charming and completely disconcerting. Damn the man, what was he up to? “I’d love to.”

Taylor tossed the mail on the entry table. One letter fluttered to the floor and they both leaned down to pick it up. Gavin reached it first, then handed it to her. She almost didn’t look at it, but gave a quick glance anyway.

The pleasantness popped.

For a moment all she could do was stare at that letter with her son’s name printed neatly on the outside with the exception of the last name. This letter was addressed to Ryan Fisher. The return address was Valleyview, Gatesville, Texas. Damn the woman!

Rage rolled through her. That Nina would even try to send another letter. Why couldn’t she just leave them the hell alone? But then, the fear slithered in. Had she found them? Would the phone calls be next?

Taylor stood, the flower forgotten, as was Gavin. All she saw was that letter and her mind simply froze on it. She closed her eyes.

“Taylor?”

When she opened them, the first thing that registered was the little black, stamped-hand with the forefinger pointing to:
forward.

Forward. Relief huffed out on a whoosh.

“Damn, Charles, too,” she mumbled.

“Are you all right? You’re kind of pale.” Gavin’s voice pulled her back to where she was

42

and what was going on.

“Oh, uh--yeah. I’m--I’m fine,” she lied. Another sigh had her running her hand through her hair. She tried a small smile. “Sorry.”

His look was rueful. “Don’t apologize. Come on, you look like you could use a drink of something, or sit down.”

“My tea’s in the kitchen. I’ll get you a glass, too.” She walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. A look back showed her Gavin carried her flower. Had she handed it to him? No, probably dropped it.

“Do you like your tea sweet?” she asked, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“That’s fine.” He held the flower out to her. “You dropped this.”

She took it. “I’ll put it in some water. Please, have a seat.”

Wood scraped on wood as he pulled a chair out and sat in it. He moved with remarkable ease for such a large man. She carefully put the flower in a blue vase with water and set it in the windowsill by her herbs.

Finally, she gave him a glass of tea. The letter was lying between them on the table. She lowered herself into the chair thinking they could talk about something, but her gaze magnetized to the white envelope.

“Are you going to give it to him?” Gavin asked.

It was an impertinent question, but she didn’t care. She needed someone to talk to, and Gavin was the nearest thing she had to a friend. Nearest thing? He was her
only
friend. Over the few weeks or so they had talked just about every night on the phone. Sometimes just for a few minutes and other times they could talk for hours. Yes, he was her friend, and the niggling suspicion that he was becoming something more kept creeping upon her. Whichever, it didn’t matter. She just wanted someone who cared to talk to, someone to listen. And she already knew Gavin listened to her, though he often aggravated the hell out of her.

Leaning up on her elbows, she shook her head, then reached for the offensive correspondence. “No. I don’t even want to read it, but I will later to see what sort of poison the woman is spewing.”

“It is addressed to him. Though what’s with the last name?”

“What’s with the questions?” Taylor closed her eyes. With half an ear she still heard the notes descending from above. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, opening her eyes back up.

“I’m prying,” he stated. “You just looked like you could use someone to talk to.”

Taylor
could
use someone to talk to, but she wasn’t used to sharing
this
sort of thing with a guy. Charles had never wanted to know, and then he was gone, and never cared, so it didn’t matter. Taylor had dealt with Nina’s threats and harassment alone.

Alone. Sometimes she got tired of handling things alone. Single parenting was not, by any means, easy. She and Gavin already talked about work, dreams and Ryan. So, why in the world couldn’t she share this with him, too? Taking a deep breath and a chance, Taylor followed her gut. “Fisher is his biological name. Nina, his biological mother, is in prison for the attempted murder of her son, several counts of child neglect and abuse, kidnapping and possession of narcotics with the intent on distribution.”

Heavy silence settled between them. His eyes, always dark, lightened around the edges, and even as that fascinating fact registered, so did the muscle bunching in his jaw. “No wonder you

43

went pale.”

“Yeah, well. For months we got letters in Austin. A few times, phone calls. Then, after we moved out and Charles moved back into the house, I asked him not to forward anything but bills.” Her mouth settled in a frown. “I see he listened,” she said more to herself than to Gavin.

“You going to tell Ryan?”

She vehemently shook her head. Music, fast and flighty danced from Ryan’s room. Still, Taylor softened her voice to almost a whisper. “Do you have any idea what the simple sight of this would do to him?”

Gavin stared at her.

Taylor continued, “He still has nightmares. I know he had one last night, but he doesn’t talk about it. He never talks about any of it. Dr. Petropolis tells me to be patient, that he’s writing about it, which is better than completely bottling it up, and he’s talked to her some.” Taylor jabbed a finger at the tabletop. “But no, I’m not going to tell Ryan that she wrote him another letter, let alone let him read the thing. You have no idea what kind of woman she is. The obscene things she says, or the threats she issues. Absolutely not. No, he will never know.”

Gavin still sat, staring at her, as though he expected her to say something else. “Dr.

Petropolis is his child psychologist?”

“Yes.”

His gaze was starting to unnerve her.

“What?” she asked. “You think that’s harsh of me? Cruel of me? To deny a mother her son?” Damn it. Why was she doing this? Just because Charles had said those very words didn’t mean Gavin thought that way. Why was she taking this out on him? On another silent curse, Taylor got up. They needed another plate didn’t they? he said he’d stay for dinner.

She grabbed a plate, silverware, and a napkin. After she placed it all in front of him, slightly eschewed and jumbled, her mind on at least the menial task of his place setting, she turned to walk back to the counter.

His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“Taylor,” his voice was still gentle, just as his fingers were. Yet, she caught the edge to both. “Sit down.”

Too flustered and upset to argue she sat.

“Do you think you’re being harsh?” He withdrew his hand from her wrist.

“No,” she immediately answered. “That woman is no mother to him. She never was. She’s scarred him and hurt him too many times to count. Damn near killed him the last time.” Her voice was shaking and so were her hands. Taylor fisted them and put them in her lap, took a deep breath and tried to rein in on her emotions. “I’m sorry. I really am. I swiped at you. I shouldn’t have.”“You always swipe at me. I’m getting used to it.”

She just looked at him.

“It’s okay. Better to get out than to leave it bottled up. Can I ask you a question though?” It was his turn to lean up on his elbows.

“If you’re certain you want to hear the answer. Or dare another swipe.”

One eyebrow cocked. “Why did you ask me if I thought you were harsh or cruel? I’d never think that of you. A hard ass maybe. Driven, definitely and sometimes narrow minded.”

44

Taylor licked her lips. How to answer the man? “You know how to compliment, don’t you?”Both brows rose at that. “I keep in practice. So … back to the topic at hand. The reason you asked me?”

Taylor sighed. “Charles.”

“What do I have to do with the ex?”

“Charles told me that when I asked him not to forward her mail, or let her know where we’d moved to.”

The downturn of the corner of his mouth and the narrowing of his gaze told her before his words what he thought of that. “You know, I really don’t think I like your ex at all, and find I like even less being lumped in any form or fashion with him.”

“But you both have so much in common.”

His eyes hardened. “Really?”

“Hmm.…” She took a drink. “Both handsome, charming and successful men.”

“Those are usually sought after qualities.”

“You mean a beautiful, successful, charming woman like Miss O’Hara is fine with you?”

He took a deep breath. “You make my head spin.”