Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (22 page)

“Eat your waffle,” she said again.

His lower gut tightened as he got a mental image of her just wearing red underwear. He pushed it aside. “So, she wanted you to sleep with Danny?”

Chloe made a face. “No.” Then she added. “Maybe. I mean, she just wants me to move on. She says it’s time.”

“She’s right,” he said.

“Really? I guess I could call Danny back.”

He chuckled and again got that feeling that he was getting too close to the fire. He could really like her. Hell, he already did like her. She was just the type of woman he’d been avoiding.

She reached for her coffee. “What about you?”

“White,” he said, ignoring the little warning bells going off in his head.

“What?” she asked.

“The color of my underwear.” He winked.

She laughed, and damn if he didn’t like seeing her eyes light up with humor.

“I mean, are you dating anyone?”

His mind went to Paula, but he didn’t consider that dating. Neither did his sisters.

“Not really.”

“That seems a little vague,” she said. She must have heard something in his tone, because she lifted an eyebrow. “No one special in your life?”

Special?
That certainly didn’t describe Paula. “No. Absolutely not.”

• • •

J.D. pulled over to the side of the road, thinking his life might very well be over, and praying Carlos’ wasn’t. But the cop, with his lights flashing, drove around him. He sat there for several long seconds, not believing it.

He remembered the angel in his room, and while he didn’t believe, not really, it was kind of nice thinking that something out there could be watching over him.

He drove slowly to his exit, tasting the metallic flavor of panic on his tongue. When he pulled into the pool hall/bar, he didn’t get out of his truck for several minutes. His heart thumped so hard in his chest, he feared he’d pass out.

Finally, shaking off the feeling, he got out of his truck. He walked through the parking lot looking for Carlos’ car and making sure he didn’t see any of the gang’s cars. He didn’t know them all, but most of them he’d recognize. Not that the gang hung out here that much. This was mostly Carlos’ spot.

When he’d made the entire round of the parking lot, stopping back in front of his truck, and not seeing his friend’s Saturn, he debated just leaving and going to Carlos’ brother’s house. Then he remembered that sometimes Carlos loaned his brother or his brother’s wife his car and bummed rides. Just in the last month, J.D. had taken his friend around four or five times.

So, Carlos might still be in the bar. Pulling out his phone, he leaned against his truck and dialed Carlos’ phone one more time.

On the second ring, it clicked. He waited for Carlos to say something. When he didn’t, J.D. said, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Well, look who’s calling. It’s the Ghost.” Jax’s voice rang almost evil from the other end of the line.

Chapter Twenty-three

“Where’s Carlos?” J.D. asked, fury making his throat tight.

“Oh, that guy’s not doing good. He lied to me. The only thing I hate worse than liars are cowards. Guys who create a mess and don’t have the balls to fix it.”

“Where is Carlos?” he seethed. “What did you do?”

“Not as much as I’m gonna do to you. And don’t think I won’t find you, Ghost. Your white ass is mine.”

J.D. hung up. Fury made his stomach knot. A hope, one that seemed farfetched, but still a hope burned in his chest. Jax was lying, and he’d just somehow gotten Carlos’ phone. He went to his contacts and found Carlos’ brother’s home phone. It rang once.

Twice.

“Answer, damn it!” he muttered.

“Hello?” the soft, feminine Hispanic voice sounded like Christina, Carlos’ sister-in-law.

“Hey, this is J.D. Have you seen or heard from Carlos?” He tried to keep the panic from sounding in his voice.

“You don’t know?” She sniffled as if crying.

“Know what?” His chest gripped. When she didn’t answer, he said, “What happened? Tell me!”

“The gang—his
brothers—
happened. He calls them that even though he only has one real brother. They turned on him, beat him. Would have killed him if two men hadn’t walked up. He’s in bad shape. Could still die. They’re operating on him now. Moses is there at the hospital. Waiting. Why do you two do this? Why do you join gangs and bring trouble to Moses? Stay away. I don’t want your trouble anymore.”

J.D. felt a raw pain burn in his chest. “What’s Moses’ cell number?”

She didn’t answer. She’d hung up.

“No!’ J.D. seethed. Then he remembered Carlos had called him a few weeks back on his brother’s cell. He started going through his call list until he found it.

• • •

Chloe sipped from the warm cup. “If you’ll just drop me off at my apartment . . .”

“No,” he said, almost choking on the coffee he’d just swallowed.

“I don’t mean to stay. I mean just to grab a few things,” Chloe said.

“No,” Cary said even more adamantly than before.

Chloe set her third cup of decaf down. They had spent the last hour talking about their college years, their favorite restaurants, and laughing. All the while, pretending the elephant wasn’t sitting in the booth with them.

And it was a big elephant. In her mind it was even pink polka dot.

Once or twice the question sat on the tip of her tongue.
What did you really think of Room Six?
But then she’d chicken out, and just start enjoying the conversation again. And she did enjoy it. She ate up every bit of information she got on him. He had a way of telling stories that kept her entranced.

He had a certain charm, and she wondered how he curtailed that charm to do his job as a cop.

Needless to say, cop or not, she couldn’t remember laughing so much with one person. Especially in the last year. Right then, she knew more than ever that she had to move ahead. She needed joy and laughter in her life.

And maybe she even needed a man. But she still didn’t like him outright telling her what she could and couldn’t do.

“What do you mean, no?” she asked, staring at him over her cup. “I have to get my car anyway. It’ll only take me a few minutes to gather a few things.”

“You don’t need your car. I’ll take you to your mother’s house. And I’ll pick up anything you need from your place tomorrow, plus your car, and deliver it myself.”

“But . . . I don’t have clothes or anything.” Not that clothes were her biggest issue. There was a certain feline waiting on treats. “No, I have to go back. I need to—”

“I’ll bet you fifty bucks that anything you really need, you can find at the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart right down the street.”

She shook her head. “You’d lose that bet.”

“Okay, it might not be the same brand name, but . . .”

“Nope. I can’t get it period,” she said.

“What do you need that we can’t buy at Wal-Mart?”

“My cat.”

“Hmm . . .” His brown eyes met hers. “Okay.” He ran a hand over his face. “I owe you fifty bucks. But let’s look at this logically. Your cat’s not going to—”

“She expects treats before she goes to bed.”

“Back to being logical,” he said.

She saw it then. The part of him that would make a good cop. A bit pushy, but with just the right amount of charm that one was tempted to just give in.

“I don’t always follow logic,” she argued.

He leaned forward again and pressed his hand on the table. “Look, if you don’t go, she goes without her treats. You go, you might end up shot. Does one of those not seem like a better option to you?”

“Not if you asked Cupcake.”

“I’m not asking Cupcake, I’m appealing to your better sense.”

She frowned. “You’re assuming I’ve got better sense.”

He smiled. “I know you do. I’ve read your books.”

There it was again. Charm. She dropped back into the booth. She shook her head. “It all seems so unreal. I mean, it was an accident.”

“He shot me. That wasn’t an accident. And I think he killed two other people. Let’s not forget he was at your place today. I saw him.”

She nipped at her bottom lip. “I’m not saying he’s not bad, I’m just saying I don’t think he wanted to hurt me. And it seems nuts that now he wants to kill me.”

“You’re a key witness that could put him away for murder.”

“I didn’t see the murder.”

“You saw him driving the same truck. And as we speak, the cops are trying to match the tire tracks.” He paused. “Look, I don’t know what he really did or didn’t do, but I don’t want to risk your life on it.”

She closed her eyes a second. “Fine. But I get my car and my cat first thing in the morning.” She paused. “Oh, and this whole thing has to be cleared up before next Thursday, because that’s when my mom comes back and I refuse to stay at her house when she’s there.” Guilt filled her chest. “Not that she’s not a lovely person. She just drives me crazy.”

“Deal,” he said, and held up his coffee like a toast.

She held up her own mug. “You’re used to winning, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Not always. But with that thought in mind, are you sure you wouldn’t like to just come back to my place?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

He sipped his coffee. “I think I’m a bit offended. I would never try to push myself on a woman. You don’t trust me?”

She stared at him, and before she could stop it, the truth snuck out. “It’s not you I don’t trust.” She didn’t say it was her that she didn’t trust. But she didn’t have to.

A slow, sexy smile spread across his lips and lit up his brown eyes.

She’d give anything to take those words back, but it was too late.

“That’s nice to know,” he said in that deep voice.

• • •

As they walked out of the restaurant, Cary’s phone rang. He clicked open the door and reached for his phone to see who was calling. When he spotted Chase Kelly’s name, he glanced at Chloe. “Sorry, I need to get this.”

She nodded and they both climbed into his Camaro.

“Hey,” he said, answering the phone and getting in behind the wheel. “What’s up?”

“I got a call from Bradley at the precinct. There was some trouble at an apartment complex over off Harris Street. They’re pretty sure it’s gang related. A couple of bystanders were driving by and broke up an incident. About six guys were beating the shit out of a kid. We’re pretty sure he was one of their own, too.”

“Don’t tell me, it was J.D. Andrews?” Cary saw Chloe glance at him. He remembered her saying the kid hadn’t meant to hit her, then he recalled the way the kid had just looked at him back at Chloe’s apartment.

“No, we’re not that lucky. It’s a Hispanic kid, but the two men who stumbled upon it said the guys drove off in an old Honda Civic. That’s what you said the guys were driving who shot at you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you interviewed the kid? Maybe he’s upset enough to talk?”

“Not yet. He’s in surgery. Pretty bad shape, too. Doctors say they’re not sure he’s gonna pull though. He’s only sixteen, too.”

“Shit,” Cary said. And he hated it for the kid, but he couldn’t help but think of Marc Jones—the sixteen-year-old non-gang member that they’d taken out because he wouldn’t join them.

“Anyway, Joey got hung up on the case he’s working for Luke, so he’s not going to be at Chloe’s place for a few more hours. I didn’t want you letting her go there.”

“She’s not. She’s staying at her mother’s.”

“Good,” Chase said. “So, is this thing serious between you two? Y’all’s little No Ball & Chain gang is getting smaller and smaller, isn’t it?”

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said, and glanced at Chloe under his lashes.

“Ah, so she’s still with you, huh?”

“See ya.” He hung up. Why the hell did these guys think they had the right to poke their noses into his business?

Chloe looked at him. ‘Something bad happen?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Another sixteen-year-old kid, a gang member, is probably going to bite the dust.”

“Was it the J.D. kid?” Concern laced her voice.

“No,” he said. “But witnesses say the perps who hurt the kid drove away in a dark colored Honda Civic. So, it’s probably the same people who shot at us.”

He started the car. “I swear, the average life expectancy for a gang member is seventeen. I don’t get it. Do these kids just want to die?”

• • •

J.D. sat in his truck, and every few minutes he would call Moses again. Each time, his phone would go to voicemail.

“Why aren’t you answering?” J.D. muttered. “This is J.D., call me and let me know how Carlos is doing. Please?”

He slumped back into his seat. Hating himself. Blaming himself. He should have never called Carlos.

“Damn it!” he yelled, looking up at the dark sky. “Why? Why does all this bad shit happen?”

Rage, dark, pure and painful swelled up inside his chest.

His phone rang.

He grabbed it and looked at the number. It was Moses.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s Carlos?”

“He’s in surgery,” Moses said, his tone tight and angry. “Who did this to him? Was it the Black Bloods?”

“Yeah,” J.D. said.

“Did you help them?” Moses asked, accusation in his tone.

“No.”

Moses said some curse words in Spanish. “Why? What did he do to them?”

“It’s my fault,” J.D. admitted. “They wanted me to kill someone and I wouldn’t. So Jax wants me dead. Carlos had warned me. I think they found out. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Look, I’ll tell you just like I told Carlos. Get out. Stay out!”

J.D. shut his eyes tight. “Will you call me? Call me when he’s out of surgery?”

“Yeah,” he said and the line clicked.

J.D. wanted to hit something. No. He wanted to hit Jax. He wanted to hit him hard. As hard as he’d hit Carlos. He wanted to hit him so hard he never breathed again.

He balled his right hand into a fist. And just like that, J.D. knew how he could hurt Jax. A plan started to form.

Chapter Twenty-four

Chloe stared out the window as Cary’s Camaro pulled into the drive. Her mother’s house, a modest one-story brick home in a semi-modest neighborhood out in Hoke’s Bluff, seemed extra dark.  Actually, the whole neighborhood seemed dark. She shouldn’t be surprised, considering it was almost midnight, and probably sixty percent of her mom’s neighbors were senior citizens who rolled up the red carpet and called lights out at around eight at night.