Death, Taxes, and Cheap Sunglasses (A Tara Holloway Novel Book 8) (37 page)

I’d needed a couple stitches, too. When I’d fainted, my head had hit the edge of the truck’s bumper and been sliced open. A little embarrassing, but who wouldn’t have been overwhelmed under the circumstances?

Nick, Christina, and Alejandro had been taken to the hospital, too. Though they’d put up a fierce fight when pulled from the back of the rental truck, none had any broken bones, fortunately. The doctors treated their cuts and scrapes, and kept all of us overnight for observation.

I woke at seven the next morning to the sound of the hospital room door opening. Ajay peeked his head in and whispered, “Are you decent?”

The staff had put me and Christina in a room together. It was like a slumber party—a really awful slumber party, where the ghost stories were real and the girls blubbered and bawled all night and just wanted to go home to their mommies.

My stitches and tailbone throbbed as I sat up in bed. “We’re as decent as we can be with our asses hanging out of these hospital gowns.”

Ajay stepped in, carrying a white paper sack and two large coffees. He held them up. “Brought you two some breakfast. That hospital slop is tasteless.”

I took the coffee and cherry Danish he handed me. “Thanks, doc. Compliments on your bedside manner.”

After handing Christina her breakfast, he plopped down on the end of her bed. “Frankly, I think they should have put you two in the psych ward. Anyone who voluntarily goes up against a drug cartel must have some screws loose.”

“Did someone mention screwing?” It was Nick’s head peeking through the door this time. His left eye was bloodshot and bruised, his lip was swollen, and his knuckles were purple and raw, but other than that he was intact. He’d spent the night in the room next door. Drug wars were good for no one but the health care industry.

He opened the door wider when I waved him in. A nurse passing by in the hallway outside took a quick peek at Nick’s exposed, firm butt, her brows quirking in approval as he stepped inside.

“Coffee?” Nick’s eyes locked on my cup as he headed toward me. “You’re going to share, right?”

“Share my coffee?” Teasing, I pulled the cup back out of his reach. “It’s not enough that I saved your ass last night?”

“You still hung up on that?” He rolled his eyes, teasing me right back.

I handed him the cup and he took a long drink, but when he went to hand it back to me he found my hand shaking too hard to take it back from him. Setting the cup on the tray table and rolling it out of the way, he sat down on my bed and leaned in to look me in the eye.

“You did what you had to do, Tara.” He reached out, putting a hand on each of my trembling shoulders.

“I know.”
Damn.
Even my voice was shaking now. “Still sucks, though.”

He gave me a soft smile. “Pratt and Holloway, CPAs, is sounding pretty good right now, huh?”

I had to agree. Though I knew my father and I had had no choice but to shoot the men who’d aimed their guns at Nick and Christina last night, the knowledge that we’d ended two lives was a hard truth to face. The men might have been violent criminals, but they were also someone’s son, maybe a brother, perhaps even someone’s father. I hated them for putting us in this position.

But losing Nick and Christina would have hurt infinitely more.

Still holding me, Nick leaned in and gave me a big kiss on the forehead, being careful not to get too close to my stitches. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered against my skin. “Eventually.”

A wail came from the hall, followed by Bonnie’s voice shrieking, “Where is he? Where’s my son? What’s happened?”

Nick let go of me and bolted to the door, yanking it open. He set one foot into the hall and gestured. “I’m in here, Mom. No need to panic.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Bonnie stormed into the room carrying a large quilted bag. She grabbed Nick in a tight hug and choked back a sob before taking a step back. “Oh, my God! You’ve got a black eye!”

He waved a hand. “I’m fine, Mom. I’ve suffered worse.”

“I know.” She gulped back a second sob. “Trust me, I remember.”

Nick gestured to the bag. “What’s in there?”

“All your favorites.” She glanced around for a place to set it down. “I figured you might be hungry.”

Nick put a hand to his belly. “You figured right.”

Nick and Ajay pushed my tray table and Christina’s together to form a larger space, and Bonnie unloaded the bag. Paper plates, napkins, forks, a large thermos containing more coffee, and several foil-wrapped homemade breakfast tacos.

“Wow, Mom,” Nick said. “You brought enough to feed an army.”

Good thing, because after being on the front lines last night we felt like soldiers.

I’d just taken a big bite of a breakfast taco when there was a knock on the door. I looked up to see my mother and father in the doorway. Unable to speak with my mouth full of tortilla, potato, and salsa, I waved them in with my taco.

“How’s everyone this morning?” Mom asked.

Like Bonnie before her, my mother carried an armful of homemade goodies. A coffee cake. Apple turnovers. Blueberry muffins. Obviously she’d been up all night baking, too worried and upset to sleep. I felt guilty to be the cause of her insomnia.

I swallowed my bite. “We’re all great.” I looked to Nick and Christina. “Aren’t we?”

The two of them forced smiles at my mother. Dad wore a stoic face, but I knew that he, too, was in emotional turmoil. Another reason for me to feel guilty.

Christina turned to Ajay. “Go see if you can find Alejandro. He risked his life to bring down the cartel.” True. If they’d discovered that one of their own had ratted them out, he would’ve been in for the worst kind of torture. “The least we can do is share this breakfast with him.”

Ajay nodded and went in search of the informant, while Dad rounded up a couple of extra chairs from Nick’s room. When Alejandro entered the room, I introduced him to my parents and Nick introduced him to Bonnie.

Dad shook his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got some rather large
huevos,
son. I’ll give you that.”

Alejandro offered a small smile and a
“Gracias.”

The eight of us sat around, stuffing our faces and trying our best to keep the conversation light.

At seven-thirty, a nurse arrived with our covered breakfast platters. She glanced around at the remains of our veritable buffet. “I suppose you won’t be needing these, then?” she asked, lifting a cover to expose a bowl of overcooked oatmeal and a fruit salad that was beginning to turn brown.

Christina and I exchanged glances. “We’ll pass,” she replied for both of us.

All of us patients were released at noon. We had little left to say, still processing the events of the night before and trying to come to terms with them.

Alejandro shook our hands one last time. He squeezed my hands so tightly between his I feared he’d snap my fingers in two. “I owe you my life.”

I shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

Christina gave me a hug then held me by the shoulders, looking me in the eye and giving me a look that said more than words ever could. That she was infinitely grateful my father and I had come along when we did. That our jobs had once again asked us to pay a very high price, but that we’d proven ourselves up to the task and sacrifice. That she understood how overwhelmed I must be feeling now. That we should go out for margaritas soon, maybe check out the new spring shoes at Neiman’s. Our silent exchange complete, she turned to my dad. “Thanks again, pops.”

My father gave her a nod. “Anytime.”

Ajay raised his hand to give my father a high five. “Next time you’re in town I’m buying you a steak.”

Dad nodded again. “It’s a date.”

Ajay wrapped his arm around Christina as they made their way out the automatic doors of the hospital to his car.

Alejandro was released into the custody of U.S. Marshals. Given his cooperation with law enforcement, he’d be issued a new identity under the Witness Protection Program and relocated somewhere the others in the cartel would be unlikely to find him. My money was on Pocatello, Idaho.

Bonnie boo-hooed all over Nick and got him even more gooey than I had before he’d gone out on this investigation. “I’m so glad this is over!”

She wasn’t the only one.

When his mother finally released him, Nick turned to me, stared into my eyes for a long moment, then grabbed me and held me so tight my ribs threatened to break. He put his lips to my ear and whispered in his sexiest voice, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that punishment I owe you.”

I put my mouth to his ear and whispered back. “I’ll be at your place the instant my parents leave.”

chapter thirty-six

M
y Own Little Ass Whooping

My parents dawdled around my house all Sunday afternoon. My father replaced the burned-out light bulb on my back patio, oiled a couple of squeaky door hinges, and topped off all the fluids in my car. My mother made chicken-fried steak, a tuna casserole, and a huge pot of butter beans, sticking them in the freezer for me and Alicia to eat during the coming week. Mom washed all the dishes, did my laundry, and even vacuumed and dusted, insisting that I stay in bed and rest all the while. Hey, who was I to argue with my mother? Besides, it gave me a chance to catch up on my television shows.

I walked them out to Dad’s truck early that evening, giving both of them a big hug. “Thanks for … everything.”

My father and I exchanged a glance. That “everything” entailed far more than it should have. No man should ever have to kill for his daughter.

“You keep an eye on those stitches,” my mother advised as my dad helped her into the truck. “If they get red or puffy or oozy, you call the doctor right away.”

“Ew,” I said, adding, “I will.”

I stood in the driveway, waving as they backed out and headed down the street. When they’d rounded the corner, I turned and hightailed it down the street to Nick’s.

He and Daffodil were standing on his porch waiting for me as I sprinted up. “I’ve been checking out the window all afternoon,” he said. “I thought your parents would never leave.” His lips parted in a sexy smile. “You ready for your punishment?”

I slid him a sexy smile right back. “Am I ever.”

Though Nick gave me one solid pat on my naked rump as we climbed into his bed, I’d be hard-pressed to call it a spanking. In fact, his ministrations and foreplay were far more slow and gentle than usual, as if he were savoring each and every second and sensation. After last night’s swift and severe brutality, neither of us was in the mood for a rushed, rambunctious bout of sex. Rather, slow and languid lovemaking better fit our mood. It also put less pressure on my still-sensitive tailbone.

Nick looked into my eyes as our bodies joined, and continued to gaze at me as he stilled himself inside me. “I missed the hell out of you, Tara.”

“Right back at ya.”

His voice was hoarse with emotion when he spoke again. “There were times when … when I didn’t think we’d make it out.”

I was quiet a moment, blinking back fresh tears. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t.” In fact, I
refused
to imagine it. I gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the lips.

He remained motionless for several moments, as did I. The lack of movement was as sensually exhilarating as it was frustrating.

When I could take it no more, I ran my hands down Nick’s hard-muscled back, resting them in the warm curve of his spine for a moment before cupping his buttocks and applying some pressure. Still he didn’t move. “Um … what are you doing?”

He pulled his head back and looked at me, smiling softly. “I’m not doing anything.”

Smart-ass.
“Let me rephrase, then. Why aren’t you moving?”

“I’m exercising.”

“Exercising
what
?”

He chuckled. “Restraint.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”

He ducked his head into the crook of my neck and exhaled a long breath that feathered over my skin. “I just want to be close to you.”

I slid my hands back up to his back and leaned my cheek against his dark hair. “That’s all I want, too.”

We remained interlocked and motionless for several more moments before he mumbled into my neck. “I think my restraint has gotten enough exercise, don’t you?”

Now it was my turn to chuckle. “Hell, yeah.”

Nick pulled his head back and gazed at me as he began to move.

“So,” I said, gazing back at him. “Fifty bucks on September, huh?”

He groaned. “Don’t talk about marriage. It’ll spoil the mood.”

“Oh! You did not just say that!” In an instant, I’d flipped him over onto his back, where he lay laughing so hard his chest heaved.

Daffodil raised her head from her bed on the floor and whimpered in concern.

“It’s okay, girl,” Nick assured her, reaching out to give her a pat on the head. “Daddy’ll love every minute of what Tara’s gonna do to him.”

And he did.

chapter thirty-seven

U
h-oh, SpaghettiOs

Lu called me into her office first thing Monday morning. “Take a seat,” she said.

I plunked down in one of her wing chairs.

“You did a great job helping Nick out on the cartel case,” she said. “The shooting was clearly justified, so there won’t be any problems there. Nevertheless, you know procedure. Lethal use of weapons means I’ve got to put you on paid administrative leave for two weeks.”

I cocked my head. “You don’t expect me to complain about an extra two weeks’ paid vacation, do you?”

“’Course not. I expect you to get some rest, go somewhere fun, and come back in two weeks ready to work your butt off.”

I gave her a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on now. Send me a postcard. Or maybe bring me one of those souvenir snow globes.”

“Will do.”

Nick took some vacation time, too, and we spent several days rolling around in his sheets—careful to avoid my fractured coccyx—and a couple more in his bass boat out on the area’s various lakes. Daffodil loved sunning herself on the boat’s deck and taking the occasional dip in the water, shaking herself all over us when she climbed back aboard. I kicked back with a brand-new copy of Rose N. Bloom’s Scottish romance novel and a glass of wine while Nick fished, catching only a swim mask with a broken strap for all his trouble. He didn’t mind, though. He seemed less interested in fishing for the take than in the meditational opportunities the quiet, serene activity provided.