Gemini (2 page)

The woman’s smile was unsteady at the edges. Clay remembered it had been just the two of them, brother and sister. The father had been a pilot, too, and he and the mother had died in a glider accident Cap’s second year at the Academy. Cap had nearly quit then, thinking he had to take care of his kid sister.

Clay had been one of them who’d talked Cap down. He’d even helped find a boarding school for the kid. She’d been thirteen.

He’d always felt a little guilty about that, but it was Cap who was his buddy, not the girl. And he’d understood it had worked out okay. She’d gone on to college—nursing school—and then become a…midwife, maybe? Something like that.

What the hell was her name? Something goofy, a match to Capricorn James Walker. Apparently, the parents had had their own brand of crazy.

She helped him out. “Gemini.”

Oh, yeah
, that was it.

More quietly, she added the rest. “Walker Tomlinson.”

So she’d married—an abusive dick, by the look of it. He could see the bruise at her shoulder now, where the leather strap of her bag pulled an edge of sweater aside. Her marriage would be the reason they hadn’t found her when they’d all gotten back in-country after Cap’s funeral.

Clay felt a new twinge of guilt. Apparently, they hadn’t looked hard enough. It was clear now they should have done more. He had the skills to find her if he’d really tried.

He sighed heartily, if silently. He knew for certain what Cap would expect of them.

The others would know it, too. Every one of them let a heavy silence pass. Soft-hearted Quinn broke it.

“Hey, Gemini. You’re right about those two—Jace and Clay. And I’m Quinn Cavanaugh.” He put a hand out and gently held the woman’s. “Any sister of Cap’s…”

Shit
. Did he have to
say
it?

Clay rolled his eyes at his pal for form’s sake. “You look like you’ve had some trouble, Gemini Walker Tomlinson. You need a handout?”

She took her hand back from Quinn and turned a slightly sour eye on Clay. Clay wasn’t moved by it, and after another moment she turned back to Quinn.

“What I need is a job.” She glanced over, clearly still wishing she had Quinn alone. “And a place to live, until my first paycheck.”

Clay figured his friend would fall for whatever her story was and considered it his job to protect his buddy. “Show a little T and A, you could probably rake in some tips. But you don’t need another barmaid, do you, Quinn?”

She shot Clay the stink-eye again. Clay still wasn’t quelled. But he watched with interest as she turned, that nice ass swaying as she walked to the end of the bar. She used her right side only to lift the hatch as she walked through.

Grabbing the green bottle of Redbreast 15 on the fly, she set a shot glass down in front of Clay. Eyes purely on his, she uncorked it and, with the bottle a good five inches in the air, perfectly poured a shot.

Then she pulled down a martini glass and placed it in front of Jace. Exactly like he’d seen Quinn do it dozens of times, she mixed up Jace’s dirty martini. Only she did it with a little more style and looked damn hot while doing it. She poured it into the glass with another flourish and added the olive.

Sending Clay another dry look, she walked down the bar to the taps. She drew a pint of Kilkenny like a freaking pro, the head frothing up above but not spilling over the rim. She set it on the bar and slid it down. Quinn put his hand out to stop it, but the damn thing came to its own stop about two millimeters from his palm. And there wasn’t a drop of Kilkenny on the bar.

She looked at Quinn. “That one’s just a guess.”

Quinn threw back his head and laughed. He lifted the beer in acknowledgement. “And a damn good one.”

Jace was grinning, too, and even Clay had to hand it to her. The sweet little bitch had class. He tipped his whiskey to her.

Quinn took a good swallow and then motioned her to join them. Clearing the stool he’d been using, he set her on it. He gestured to the bottles behind him, offering a drink, but she shook her head.

“Okay,” Quinn said. “You have a job. And we can work out the place to stay, too. But the cop, here, thinks you’re on the run. So first, you have to talk to us.”

She clearly didn’t want to. She avoided Clay’s gaze entirely, but gave Jace an assessing look. Finally, she settled for Quinn. The man had stones, no doubt, but he was a bit more subtle about it than Jace and Clay. They all waited more or less patiently while she thought it over.

“It’s nothing you can’t guess. I’ve left my husband, and he’s…vindictive.”

“And a wife-beater, you forgot to say.”

She only met Clay’s gaze for a moment, then looked down at the bar. “Yes, but—”

“More,” Clay guessed. “He took your keys, your cards, and your cash. He isolated you, so you’ve got no one to go to. Your pockets are empty and all you have in that bag is, at best, a change of clothes. Yeah?”

Pretty, forlorn Gemini took a breath. “You’re asking me to admit that I’ve been a complete, helpless idiot, but, yes.”

“You’re not the first woman to be taken in by a controlling bastard. They’re very good at seduction.” That was the extent of the sympathy he was willing to give, at least until he got a better idea about her. “Cap would expect us to kill him for you.”

She lifted her head and almost laughed, but stifled it when she got a look at the grim, dead-serious looks on three men’s faces.

“Thanks,” she said with little enthusiasm. “It’s just the job I want.”

Clay reached across the bar and lifted the curl that had worked its way out of her braid away from her shoulder. Finger marks were there, fresh enough to still be an angry red. The thumb print curved over her neck, visible under a layer of makeup. She tried to pull back, but he’d kept hold of that curl. “He’s mean,” he said. “Dangerous. Where is he?”

She hesitated, then gave over. “Sacramento.”

“What’s his name?”

The pause was shorter this time, but still full of reluctance. “Bryce Grant Tomlinson.”

“In what way is he connected?”

She looked at him blankly.

He probably didn’t even need her help. “Politics? Business? The mob?”

She searched his eyes. “Why does it matter?”

“I’d like to know what resources he has. Politics?”

Not speaking, she nodded her head.

“At what level?”

“Party, for now. He’s being groomed for governor.”

Shit
. He’d prefer the damn mob. Even a boss wouldn’t care as much about a runaway wife as a freaking politician.

“How’d you get here?”

“I stole money from a woman’s purse. One of the cleaning staff.”

She copped to that like it was a damn felony. He had to figure a generous part of her first paycheck would be in an envelope on its way back to that purse.
Hell
. He didn’t want to like this woman.

“I took a bus as far as I could go. Then I hitchhiked.”

Jesus
. She was lucky she’d arrived in one piece. “How’d you get to the bus station?”

“I took a city bus as far as the Light Rail. I changed trains twice before I went to the bus terminal.”

He nodded, just a little impressed. She’d used a bit of sense, but hadn’t planned ahead enough to save up cash or open her own accounts. He touched her gently along that thumbprint bruise. “What brought this on?”

“I miscarried for the third time two months ago. He wants a baby.”

“So he raped you?”

She took an unsteady breath. He could see the denial on her lips, but she didn’t seem to be able to lie to his face. “Yes.”

“When?”

“Two nights ago.”

“So you could be pregnant, and he knows it.”

* * * *

Yes
. She could be, and, yes, Bryce knew it. Gemini didn’t much care for Clay, but he certainly had a way of identifying the ugly nuances of her situation—of her life.

She’d heard stories of Quinn and Clay and Jace since Capricorn’s very first year at the Academy. She felt like she knew them. Quinn, built like an ox but with a good heart and gentle humor. Jace, with a bit of an edge, very lucky with the women, even if she’d had to read into Cap’s words. A hound-dog, he’d said.

And Clay. Blunt and a bit rough. It appeared he, at least, hadn’t changed much.

Just as she’d heard of them, she was sure they’d heard of her. She was sure—she was
counting
on it—that they would help her.

Yes, she’d been an idiot. In a major way. She, of all women, should have known better.

She was a nurse and a midwife. She’d studied women’s health—had a master’s degree. Many, many days in her life she’d counseled women whose partners were abusive.

Domestic violence wasn’t limited to the poor and uneducated. She knew that. And still, she’d gotten caught in it with no more sense than a needy teenager.

She’d met Bryce at a birth, of all things. The single women among her midwifery class had all agreed—their work was no way to meet men. Mostly, their days were filled with women—prenatal patients, women needing birth control or paps, soon-to-be mothers in labor. The men they ran into were mostly husbands and babies’ daddies. No prospects there.

But soon out of school—in, literally, the first days on her new job—she’d attended the birth of Bryce’s little niece. It had been a lovely birth. Bryce’s sister had been determined to have a natural, unmedicated labor. She’d been remarkably, gracefully strong. Her husband had been sweetly, steadfastly encouraging.

Two grandmothers-to-be had paced the halls, neither of them able to sit patiently in the waiting area. One was alone—Bryce’s mother. The other had been surrounded by family members—her husband, the baby’s uncles and aunt, small cousins all waiting for the newest addition to the family.

It had been a sweet moment when the little girl finally came, nearly at midnight. Gemini had been included in the happy hugs. She was nearly out of the room, set to finish up her paperwork, when she was turned into one more person’s arm.

It was Bryce, the late-comer, the one of the group who’d been too occupied to spend his day at the hospital waiting for the unpredictable outcome of a first labor.

But he’d moved through the room like the politician he was—handsome, smiling, engaging in the extreme. He’d made eye-contact and used first names and—of course—kissed the baby. Gemini had one last hug from the paternal grandmother before she came up against Bryce’s chest.

She’d thought little of it at the time. He’d flashed his smile and thanked her in dutiful sincerity. She had no glimmer of attraction, no awareness of any interest on his part. It had been a long day, many hours since her morning shower, and her scrubs, never very flattering, were far from fresh.

But he called two weeks later, using her personal number.

Just as Clay had said, he was charming, seductive.

The red flags she could see in retrospect hadn’t even seemed like pink flags at the time. Within days of their first date, she’d had to bury her brother. Within two weeks, she and Bryce were married.

He helped her through those horrible days of loss, when he hadn’t been obliged to. Because he wanted to, he said. Because he wanted her.

She thought maybe she’d been blinded by grief. Or maybe he was just that good.

Bryce no longer wanted much from her. He wasn’t asking for her love or respect. He just wanted her to play her part—the content wife with an interest in women’s issues, though nothing so gritty as a practicing midwife. And he wanted a baby. Specifically, he wanted a son.

If she was carrying Bryce’s son, there was simply no way he would ever let her disappear from his life. She’d be bound to him forever, and he would never give up looking for her.

She came here, tracking down Quinn Cavanaugh, because she was sure he would help her out. For Cap’s sake, he’d give her a job—a simple request, once she’d learned he was a tavern owner. She’d worked her way through graduate school tending bar.

It hadn’t seemed like too much to ask.

But she had another request, one that wasn’t simple, one that she really hadn’t wanted to make in front of two other men. Though, maybe…maybe that was for the best.

Quinn could probably be convinced out of basic kindness. She was pretty sure Jace would be on board—he’d watched her with significant male interest while she’d waited for the bar to empty.

But Clay—he’d be something different.

That one interrupted her thoughts. “Are you done with him?”

Gemini lifted her chin. “Bryce? Yes.”

“Yeah, I know you are now. But what about when he finds you? What about when he shows up here with flowers and a little glitter in his pocket and a sad, needy look in his eye? An apology on his lips and promises that it will never happen again? Before Quinn lets you into his bar, before we let you into our lives, I want to know you’re all the way done.”

She understood his point. He’d likely seen women take back the most dangerous of men, just as she had. She wouldn’t be one of them. “I’m all the way done.”

“You’ll never look at us with tears in your eyes and beg us to understand?”

“Never.”

Clay looked less than impressed. “You’ll let the lawyer here work on a divorce for you?”

“Yes. Please.”

He looked her over, seeing more than she wanted. “What else is it you want, Gemini?”

“You have a suspicious mind.”

“What else do you want?”

Gemini bit back a sigh. She looked at Jace and Clay, across the bar from her, and then at Quinn, who stood at her shoulder. “I want you to make love to me. Tonight. All of you.”

Quinn drew in a surprised breath and took a step back. Clay nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, not surprised. And Jace looked at her with an interested brow raised.

“I’m in,” he said.

Quinn reached across the bar to cuff him. “Cap’s sister, dude.”

Jace shrugged one shoulder. “She asked.”

“Gemini?” Quinn asked softly.

“She wants plausible deniability,” Clay put in.