Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (11 page)

Chloe nodded then her gaze returned to him. And stayed there. Was the pink-haired woman telling the truth? Did Chloe not remember him?

One look into her blue eyes and he’d bet his twice-bruised right ball that it was a lie.

She remembered Room Six.

Remembered him showing up in her bedroom.

Remembered his secrets.

Did she also recall their kiss?

“Although,” Chloe said, in an unsteady voice, “you do sort of look . . . familiar.” She brushed some specks of beef stew from her arm. “Have we met before?”

Chapter Ten

Have we met before?
Her own question rang in her head.

Was it Chloe’s imagination, or was that panic she spotted in his eyes. And if panic, why? Well, other than he’d flopped around on the floor naked in his lunch and in front of his sisters and her publicist. And she’d hit him where she shouldn’t have—twice.

Not that she’d meant to do it. But she knew exactly when she had. A man’s package had a distinct feel to it, and even when your knee, or as it was in the first case, her hand, came into contact with that certain loose kind of feel, a woman knew it.

And she’d been both humiliated and terribly sorry.

“I’m sorry.” Those words leaked off her lips, and more than anything, she wanted to tuck her tail and run. But that would look strange. Maybe not any stranger than things already seemed, but. . .

“No,” Cary said in the heavy silence.

“No, what?” one of his sisters asked, but Chloe was pretty sure what he meant, she just wasn’t completely sure she believed him.

“No, I don’t think we’ve met.” He only shot her one look and then glanced away.

“Well, I just . . .  I wanted to . . . stop in and say I hope you’re okay.”

“That was so nice of you,” one of his sisters said, glaring at her brother as if telling him he had bad manners.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, sounding almost sarcastic as his hands moved over his lap, remembering her crushing blows.

“Oh, it was nothing. We were in the neighborhood. And . . . we should be going.”

“Oh, wait, can I have a picture of you and me . . . for my daughter?” Kelly handed Cary her phone and then pulled Chloe to her side.

Chloe wasn’t sure, but Cary didn’t look happy about the photo op. But he pointed the phone and clicked.

Then, smiling as big as she could, she said goodbye again, and shot out. She didn’t slow down. Not even when she came to the elevator. She found the stairs instead. Sheri followed behind her, still giggling.

• • •

J.D. parked his car in the hospital parking lot. Carlos, the only person he actually liked in the Black Bloods, called him while he’d been parked in the back of his grandmother’s house. Called him before J.D. had let himself get high and lost.  Carlos’s brother, Moses, worked at the hospital, and had been talking about a cop who’d been shot and was still in a coma at Glencoe Memorial.

“Is that the cop you shot?” Carlos had asked.

“I don’t know,” J.D. had said, but it had to be him, didn’t it?  The papers hadn’t said what hospital he was in, but it had to be, right?

Glancing up at the large building, he felt small. He felt . . . insignificant. His gaze fell to his gun, still resting beside him on the seat. When he’d first bought the weapon, it had made him feel more powerful.

Safe.

Now that he’d used it, he didn’t feel safe anymore. He felt marked. Dirty. Tainted. He didn’t want to be like Jax and the others.

His hands immediately started shaking. Why the hell had he come here? It wasn’t that he was planning to do anything.  Or was he?

• • •

“I think he was lying,” Sheri said as she started the car. She’d followed Chloe, down four flights of stairs.

“I think I’m a mess.” Chloe looked down at her clothes. “Can you take me to my apartment and then back to the bakery?”

“Did you see how he looked guilty when he said he didn’t remember you?” Sheri asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Chloe buckled her seatbelt. Her heart raced and she felt a drip of sweat running down her brow. She picked off a couple of smashed peas from her arm and flicked them out the window.

“Oh, hell yes, it does. You had an afterlife experience with that guy. You were in bed with him.”

“It could still have been a dream,” Chloe said, wanting to believe that. “Oh, hell, what I wouldn’t give to rewind this day and never go to the hospital.”

“No. Don’t start backtracking. You already said he looked like Johnny Depp, and then it really happened. And that man looked like Depp, maybe better. And after seeing him naked, well, except some well-placed hands, I’m thinking you need to have some real life experiences with him.”

Chloe shook her head. “That’s just it. If he did remember, well, he doesn’t want any real life experiences with me, or he would have said something.”

“Maybe he’s just in shock. I mean, you were thrown for a loop there, too. And well, he was naked and looked like he was in pain.”

Chloe dropped her face in her hands, feeling mortified. “I hit him.”

“You hit him?”

“Twice.” Chloe said, her face still buried in her palms.

“Twice?” Sheri asked. “Why would you hit him?”

She dropped her hands. “I didn’t mean to. We fell, my arm got him first, and then we fell again, and my knee got him.”

“Got him . . .  Wait! You don’t mean you hit him in the . . . Oh, my God, you do mean that!” Sheri burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” Chloe said. “This was a disaster.” And then she did exactly what she told her friend not to do. She laughed.

She couldn’t help it. It was laugh or cry. She’d already cried once today, and to do it again would bring on a migraine.

When their laughter faded, Sheri looked at her. “You know what you need to do, don’t ya?”

Chloe shook her head.

“You need to go right back to that hospital. Right now.”

• • •

“I still can’t believe Chloe Sanders came to see you,” Kelly said. “Bella is going to be so excited to hear this. And to see the picture. Hey, since you kind of know her, do you think you could invite her over for Bella’s birthday party?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“No. I’m not going to say anything else. Just no.” Thirty minutes had passed, his floor was cleaned up, he’d taken another shower, had on a clean gown, and Beth had gone to Wal-mart to buy him some short pajamas bottoms and underwear, so he wouldn’t have to worry about mooning anyone when he had to take a leak.

“She’s nice and she’s pretty. Or she would be, if she hadn’t been covered in beef stew and banana pudding.”

His mind went to the fact that Chloe had still been beautiful covered in his lunch. He ground his teeth.

His sister hadn’t stopped talking about his uninvited visitor. Her chatter wasn’t helping him in his own quest . . . to stop thinking about Chloe Sanders.

You do sort of look . . . familiar. Have we met before?

He kept hearing her question. What the hell did she want him to say?
Yeah, we met in the afterlife.

Twice. Twice, the woman hit him in the balls. And yet, all he could think about was how good it had felt to hold her against him.

“Do you need a pain pill?” Kelly asked for the third time in the last hour.

“No. I’m fine. Really. Quit worrying.”

“But you look like you’re in pain.”

In truth, his leg was throbbing—thankfully, his balls had quit—but not enough for a pain pill. “I don’t like hospitals,” he muttered.

“It brings it back, doesn’t it?” Kelly asked and her tone took on a touch of sadness.

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. He knew. “Yeah.”

She exhaled. “I sometimes wonder if I should’ve protected you and Beth a little more from seeing it.”

“Please. She was our mom. We needed to be with her. We would have resented the hell out of you if you’d tried to keep us away from her.”

“I know, but it was just so hard to see.”

“She was dying. It’s always hard.”

“But you and Beth were so young.”

“It didn’t matter.”

Her eyes got shiny with unshed tears. “When you were in the coma, all I could think about was losing you too. We lost dad and then Mom. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“You’re not going to,” he told her.

“But you put yourself in danger by being a cop. And for what? To find a drug dealer who killed another drug dealer? Because that’s what most of your cases are.”

“That’s not true.” He frowned and reached his hand out.

His sister slipped her hand in his and they held on to each other. “Look at me, Kelly. I love you and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But I won’t stop being a cop because there’s a chance I could get hurt. You drive the freeway to Houston four times a week, to work for a foot doctor. I worry about you. Every time I hear about an accident, I get a knot in my stomach, but I’m not telling you to quit your job. I’ll bet your chances of dying on that freeway are higher than mine are being a cop.”

“How would you like it if I went hunting down murderers?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“I’m never going to like this.”

“I’m sorry.” He felt guilty for making her unhappy, but he was right, damnit, and wasn’t going to give in.

Fifteen minutes later, his sister had gone down to get a snack.

She hadn’t been gone but for about ten minutes when a knock sounded on his door. His heart jolted thinking it might be Chloe again.

She was the last person he wanted to see right now. But he ran a hand through his hair and sucked in his gut. “Come in.”

At first, no one entered. Finally, the door creaked open. It wasn’t Chloe Sanders.

Chapter Eleven

Cary’s breath caught when the gray-haired, African American woman walked in. His gut knotted. How Marc Jones’ mother had found him in the hospital, he didn’t know.

“I thought it might be you.” She stayed in the door. “I was doing your paperwork. I work here,” she said, as if she saw the question in his eyes.

“Yes.” He tried to hide his emotions from showing on his face. “Come on in,” he said, seeing her hesitancy. But on the inside, he felt the same thing. He was hesitant to see her, to speak to her, because he had nothing to offer her.

She took a few small steps inside. The door hung halfway open. “I read the paper and called the precinct to check on you. I didn’t know you were at this hospital until I came across your paperwork.” She paused. “The paper didn’t make it clear, but I had a feeling this was about my son’s case.”

He shouldn’t tell her, but decided the woman had a right to know. “It was.”

She put her hand over her trembling lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Ms. Jones? You had nothing to do with this. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but you got shot because you were trying to help me and Marc. You were the only one who believed me when I said he wasn’t involved in the gang. Because Malcolm was a gang member, they just wanted to assume Marc went down the same path. But I worked hard to make sure that didn’t happen.”

And little good it did, Cary thought, hurting for this mother.

She stood so still, only her mouth moved. “Do you think the guy who shot you is the same one who killed my son?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think he knows who did it.”

“So, they haven’t caught him yet?”

“No, but I won’t stop looking until I do.”

“You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

“Most of us have.”

“Maybe, but too many people forget how it hurts. When you look at me, I see it in your eyes. You empathize. Not everyone does.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Stevens,” she continued. “We need more men like you.” He saw tears fill her eyes again. “I want to believe Marc would have grown up like you. He cared about people.”

“I’m sure he would have been a fine young man.”

She nodded and swiped at her face to bat away the tears.  “Well, I won’t keep you, I know you’re trying to rest, but I just wanted to see if it was you, and say I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. And as soon as I’m back on the case, I’ll be trying to find who did this to your son.”

“I know you will. Thank you.”

When Ms. Jones walked out, he heard her speak to someone. And then Kelly entered the room. He saw from her expression and the sheen of tears in her eyes that she’d been listening.

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “I still don’t like that you hunt down murderers. But I’m so proud of you. And our mama would have been proud of you, too.”

• • •

“I know you’re trying to help,” Chloe said several minutes later when Sheri was still pushing for her to return to see Cary Stevens. “But let it go. I’m not going back to the hospital. He doesn’t want to see me. I scare him.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Okay, so you scared him a bit. It makes sense, you hit him in the balls. That scares guys.”

“No,” Chloe said. “He didn’t tell me today. He told me in the dream.”

Sheri shook her head. “I thought you said he got in your bed and kissed you.”

“He did, but he also told me that I scared him.”

“Did you bust his balls in the dream, too?”

“No.”

“Then why do you scare him?”

She recalled asking him the same question. And his answer.
Because you aren’t the type you love and leave. And I’m not the staying kind anymore.

“I scare him because I’m not slutty enough for him,” Chloe pushed back, beginning to get angry. Not so much angry at Cary Stevens, but at herself for caring. She didn’t know him well enough to care that he dated loose women who just used him.

“Then wear something really hot when you go see him. Hey, I’ve got a dress and—”

“No. I don’t want to be someone’s bang toy.”

Sheri pursed her lips as if thinking. “He might be bang-toy worthy.”

“No.” She stood, picked up the newspaper and dumped it in the garbage.