Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series) (10 page)

“She would. Especially with a slut like you bitching to her about me,” he said. His hand squeezed my elbow so tight, tears sprung to my eyes.

It was time to get my mace out.

“Harley, why would you say something so mean to me? I’ve always been polite to you, even if I haven’t agreed to go out with you, haven’t I?” I tried to appeal to his humanity. Assuming he had any. I casually reached into my bag with my right hand while he kept talking.

“Brenda cut my hours to almost non-existent. Then I saw her talking to you tonight. It clicked. Why she started scheduling me on weeknights instead of weekends, and earlier in the evening before you came in. You’ve been complaining to her about me,” he said.

My senses were acutely aware of everything around me by then.

Harley always smelled of cigar smoke, leather and stale sweat. Now there was something else too. Kind of like nervous perspiration. Like maybe he was planning to do something he’d never done before.

My warning bells were going off like Aunt Theresa’s Five-Alarm Chili in the middle of a fireworks store. My hand found the mace.

“Harley, don’t be this way. You know I’m living with someone,” I told him. Then I swung my arm into his face and sprayed that mace like my life depended on it. Because it did.

He howled and grabbed his eyes, and I began running like Ticky from the garden hose. I could outrun Harley’s lard butt, I knew I could.

Heavy footfalls fell in behind me, but I was too scared to look. I ran like a gazelle. I was getting on that train!

A hand grabbed my shoulder through the stole I was wearing. I shrugged off the stole and kept running. I could feel the long slits in the sides of my dress growing longer. Dang it!

“Lauren, stop! It’s okay!” Zack’s voice said.

I stopped suddenly and turned to see him. I craned my neck to see if Harley was following, but he was a ways up the road, writhing on the ground and yowling like a stuck pig.

I was breathing like a track star. I put my hands on my hips and took great gulps of air.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him between breaths.

“I wanted to make sure you made it to the People Mover alright,” he said. The light from the streetlamps on the boulevard wasn’t quite enough for me to read his eyes. But I was touched that he was concerned about me. And very thankful.

“Why is Harley on the ground?” I asked him.

He looked down and shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets. “I needed to make sure he would stop chasing you,” he said.

I grinned and threw myself at Zack, squeezing him tight and breathing in the smell of his lemony cologne.

“Thank you Zack!” I told him. “From my heart!” I relished holding his body against mine, because I knew he would pull away any second now. He did.

But he didn’t walk off. I needed to talk to him before he ran away like he had the knack of doing.

“So it’s only been a few days, but how are you doing? Any more panic attacks?” I asked him. Mama’s voice boomed in the back of my mind: Have you no shame child? Do not ask people about their private health conditions; it’s not polite! I bit my lip. Sorry Mama.

Zack frowned and I clamped my hand over my mouth. I had to remove it to apologize.

“I’m sorry! My mama was always telling me to shut my mouth before all my thoughts ran out of my head!” I put my hand back on my mouth before I started talking more.

Zack rubbed his eyes then resumed frowning at me. But the corner of his mouth turned up a little. Then the other corner turned up, and pretty soon he was laughing.

I was too afraid of scaring him away, so I just stood there with my hand over my mouth and my eyes wide, watching him laugh and carry on.

“You and that mouth!” he said.

I nodded. It was true. Me and my mouth.

“I saw you trying to talk Harley out of it. You must have had him spinning with your questions. And those fools last night! They’ll cross the street the next time they see you coming!” he said with mirth.

Wait a minute. Last night? He saw that? I slowly removed my hand from my mouth.

“Were you following me Zackory Daniels?” I asked him. I had to know. I mean, I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but I needed to hear him admit he’d been following me. I guess it was possible we were just coming home the same way…

He stopped chuckling and realized his mistake.

“I, uh, yeah,” his gray eyes focused on my mouth when I pursed my lips. “And for Pete’s sake will you stop calling me Zackory? My name is Zack. Just Zack,” he said. He took my elbow, in a much kinder hold than Harley had done, and we began walking toward the station. I did want to catch my ride. “You need a protector, my lady,” he said in an affected English accent. “A noble knight to rescue you in times of distress,” he said. Then he kind of growled. “You attract trouble like flies to honey.”

I lifted my chin.

“Maybe. Or maybe trouble is all in the eye of the beholder. Those nice young men just changed their minds about whether or not they needed my help,” I said.

“Your help?” he asked, skeptical.

“My help getting into hell,” I finished with a straight face.

We both started laughing. Then we heard the train and had to run to make it in time.

I was secretly pleased that he got on with me and we sat, huffing and puffing, next to each other.

“This is like that first night we met,” I said. “Except I believe I almost passed out that first time,” I said when I looked at him.

Maybe it was my relief that he’d taken care of Harley for me. Maybe he was glad I’d dropped the panic attack discussion. But I tilted my face up to see his beautiful gray eyes, and I swayed a little bit…from wanting him? From the movement of the elevated car?

His eyes grew darker as he continued to look at me.

Kiss me
, I thought to myself.
Kiss me now
. I was practically begging him with my eyes and my mouth. I gently parted my lips and let my tongue peek out and lick them quickly.

He reached a hand out to my face and cupped my cheek.

“When you were singing tonight,” he began. His voice seemed hoarse. “I felt something,” he said. He looked so uncomfortable I just wanted to hold him. But he was telling me about a
feeling
he was having. This was epic! This was bigger than a tornado in the middle of a trailer park parade!

I waited, holding my breath. I felt the heat from his palm on my cheek. I could soak that in for days. He let his thumb stroke my cheekbone ever so gently. I thought I was going to melt right into the vinyl bench. He’d have to scoop me up and pour me into my bag.

“I felt this unbelievable connection to you,” he said. He dropped his hand and I swear on Mama’s grave I whimpered.

“That probably sounds weird,” he said. He shifted slightly, removing that nearness between his black denim-clad thigh and my legging where my dress had ripped farther up the slit.

“No Zack, not weird,” I argued softly. “I feel it too. Every night I try to connect with the audience on some level. I try to get in their heads and their hearts. I have this theory that certain chords match up with sound waves and if I hit them just right, I can wiggle my way right into their hearts and tweak them until they want to cry!” I blurted out. Then I saw a hurt expression cross Zack’s eyes. What did I say wrong this time? I sat back with a thump, feeling stupid. He didn’t let me finish. I wanted to explain that the feeling I had at that same time was nothing I’d experienced before, ever.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought…” then he didn’t finish his sentence. What? What did he think? Oooh I wanted to poke and pry and get that final thought out of his head so bad I could taste it. But between his grim look and Mama’s caterwauling in my head, I decided I better let it go.

“Thanks again, Zack, for saving me,” I finally said as the train pulled into my station. I had no idea if he was getting off here or riding onward. I wished it wasn’t so awkward between us. I wished I could invite him for tea and conversation. Ray!

I slapped my hand to my forehead.

“What?” Zack asked me, concern etching his voice.

“I’ve troubled you enough for one lifetime,” I muttered. I grabbed up my big bag, recalled with depression that my gun was gone, and fixed my stole so it was firmly about my shoulders.

“Come on, Lauren,” he said my name! He said my name!

“You know the worst thing about me,” he said. “You can tell me what’s bothering you,” he continued. He followed me off, his steps matching my own.

I battled within myself. Tell him about Ray? Tell him about the gun? Tell him I had the hots for him and had ever since he’d taken off his ski mask? Oh but I was kinky. I shook my head.

“Lauren,” he reached out and stopped me from walking. “You once told me that I shouldn’t be afraid to ask for the help that I needed. Just tell me what you need,” he said. His voice was firm and deep. I remembered feeling cradled in his chest just a few nights ago when my body was trying to go into shock. It would feel so good to unburden myself on his broad shoulders! We could tell each other all of our cares! I could help him and he could help me, and we could be strong together!

I turned so I faced him completely. I felt a heightened sense of my femininity as I stood before him. My stole covered my shoulders and upper arms, but my black gown had a deep V plunge, revealing my pale skin and lush cleavage. My legs were shapely from all the walking I did around town, and I knew that my makeup was flawless. My hair was mostly up in a French twist, but tendrils had fallen about my face and tickled my neck. I knew I looked the best I had looked in a while, and I had done it for him. Well, maybe not the makeup. That was just inborn. But the dress, and the posture, and the leaning in to him, and the wanting…that was all him.

I was going to do it. I was going to ask for his help.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

“Lauren! Lauren!” a male voice called. A male voice belonging to Ray. We turned to see him running up the street, his face lightening and darkening as he passed under streetlights.

“Zack!” I said. I looked at him with my eyes wide open. I wanted to communicate all my troubles but Ray was right there, and he took my arm possessively, and I saw Zack’s face darken like a raincloud, and it was a good thing Ray had already taken my gun or I would have shot him dead right then, for interrupting my moment with Zack.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Zack said with a tight smile. He nodded at Ray’s smug look and turned to go.

“Zack, wait!” I called to him.

He stopped and cocked his head, but he didn’t turn to look at me. I had to think of something fast. We were finally coming to some kind of understanding right before Ray showed up. Yes, I had to iron out some crappy wrinkles in my personal life, but I was thinking it could work with Zack. It could.

“You were right! What you said earlier about the connection and the help part too!” I said. It sounded like gibberish to Ray, which was just fine by me. If it took secret code to get Ray fed up enough to leave, then you could call me double-oh sixteen and give me a pen that shoots.

I watched Zack take a deep breath, but he still didn’t turn around. My heart sunk. He walked off.

Ray had me by the other elbow, and I was about getting sick of men thinking they could control me by working my arm like a flippin’ television remote control. I shook him off.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked him and began trotting so he had to run to keep up. Then I remembered my gun.

“Where is my .40 Smith & Wesson?” I put my hand on my hip.

“Come on, let’s get out of the street and head home,” Ray said, ignoring my question.

“No. It is not
your
home. It is
my
home. And you have
my
gun. Give it to me,” I said. I used my best Grandma Plinkett voice. She could freeze the warts off a toad with a single glance.

Ray’s face darkened in anger. “How many times do I need to explain that we belong together, baby? Now come on,” he took my arm quite a bit harder than before.

I looked over at him, and for the first time maybe realized I was in too deep. This went way beyond a guy playing helpless mooch and crossed over into jealous and possessive rage territory. Crap.

Something told me my mouth wouldn’t get me out of this jam tonight. I had to hope he wouldn’t try to assault me, and it would be assault…I hadn’t felt desire for him in well over half a year. I swallowed and jogged along with him pulling my arm.

I craned my neck to see behind us, hoping I’d see Zack watching my back. But he was gone.

Chapter Seventeen

Zack cussed at himself all the way back to the hostel. Two days on the job. Four days since he met, er, mugged, Lauren. She was all he could think about. Even his headaches ebbed when he thought about her. Spending time with her was like solving long division with no remainders. It was therapeutic. He sighed. Because he needed to focus on his long term goal, and obsessing over Lauren was distracting him.

The long term goal was that he would save up enough money to get to Dr. Mario Gutierrez’ clinic in Bethesda, Maryland. Then he was going to rely on the mercy and kindness of the doctor to help him out. He figured he could offer to help clean the building or wax the good doctor’s car or who knows what else. If the treatment was experimental, he needed experiments, right? He’d be the best dang guinea pig Dr. Gutierrez could ask for. Unfortunately, that was the extent of Zack’s planning.

While the hostel was cheaper than a motel, he still had to eat. He still had to do laundry. And take the train and any other number of expenses, and he’d had a hard time holding down any job. Lonely Nights seemed like a good place to be for him and a good match.

The little bit of action he would get might be just enough to stave off some of the stress the doctor wrote about in his research article. For guys like him, an easy environment was more stressful to his system because he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He couldn’t relax or focus. Working as a bouncer, he could count on a little bit of activity at least once a week, but nothing that would land him in the VA hospital, or anyone else for that matter. Easy peasy.

Zack tried to get comfortable in the narrow hostel bed. It squeaked and whistled, being a plastic mattress that was easy to disinfect. It was also made for someone about a foot shorter than he, but the sheets smelled of bleach so that was good. Nighttime was the worst, of course.

It used to be because he could see the flames and smoke and sparks from the IED that hit their convoy. He still did sometimes, but ever since the night his bad judgment brought him together with Lauren, he’d been falling asleep thinking of her.

It was easy to do, since he thought about her all day every day. Then she wears an outfit like she did tonight. He closed his eyes and brought it all back.

The gown was floor length with high slits on each side. Her gorgeous legs were visible all the way up to mid-thigh. She was wearing some kind of shoe with long straps that wound around and around her calves and had a silver shimmer. The neckline was everything a hot-blooded man could desire and her hair up in the back made her graceful white neck look long and slim. How he longed to touch her skin!

He’d thought they’d had a moment, there on the train.

Why was he going for a girl who was unavailable? He reviewed their acquaintance over the last few days. He’d never asked for more than an acquaintance. She was the one prying for information, hugging freely, sharing openly. He guessed that was just her personality. The more he reflected though, in all of her openness, she’d never claimed to be single or available. She’d never offered more than friendship. While it was more than he was willing to give at first, her offering never promised she didn’t have a big good-looking guy waiting at home.

He was angry at himself. But, in the end it didn’t matter. The endgame here was him leaving anyway. It’s not like he had any kind of future to offer a beautiful talented girl.

He wondered about the man that met her off the train. What did that lucky stiff have going for him? Was he some kind of corporate man? Business owner? Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief? What kind of guy let his girl wander around Detroit alone, anyway?

Zack sat up in bed. She’d had three potentially violent interactions in four freaking days. Two of them in one night, no thanks to him. He could smack himself any time he thought about it. But seriously…if Lauren was his, he’d make doubly sure she was safe anywhere she went. If he couldn’t escort her himself, he’d hire a cab. He’d make sure she was packing and that she knew how to use it. He’d teach her everything he learned in Basic about self-defense and hand to hand combat. He sure as heck wouldn’t let her roam around Detroit wearing a dress slit up to here and cut down to there.

Zack had no respect for the man, whoever he was. He’d turned away before he could see anything he didn’t think he could handle seeing. Like a reunion kiss, for example.

He was glad he’d avoided kissing her on the train after all. He’d wanted nothing more than to touch her tender red lips with his own and breathe in her voice. He’d heard her sing, shout, laugh and talk. He wanted to hear her sigh in pleasure. Except she wasn’t his to please.

Well, knowing she was taken would make his job all the easier. He could ignore her when he knew there was a man on the sidelines. He didn’t think she was married. He would have noticed a ring. Her relationship status wasn’t his business though, and the sooner he realized that the better. He popped some more ibuprofen before hitting the sack. Tomorrow would be a busy day. He was going to head over to Dave’s and try to settle up for the rest of his rent. He was also working the lounge again, though Brenda said Sundays were really slow. He hoped the medicine started working soon. He was going to feel pretty guilty dreaming about another man’s woman just to get rid of his headache.

He wondered what her last words to him meant, exactly.

“You were right! About the connection and about the help part too!”

What was she saying about their connection? Was she saying she felt it for him too, not just with the audience? And the help part…asking for help. Holy crap! She was asking for help! He was a stupid idiot! He pulled on his jeans and grabbed a clean undershirt and top. He didn’t know where she lived, but he’d bet doughnuts to dollars Brenda was still at the lounge. He just had to get there before Brenda left for the night. Brenda would have Lauren’s address.

He had a terrible feeling about the whole thing. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own life, he would have gotten her cues earlier. He cussed himself all the way to Lonely Nights. A tired looking Matt informed him that Brenda had just left in a rush and was actually looking for him. He burst out the door and tried to guess which way Brenda would have driven. She would have his address at the hostel. He would do his best to catch up to her. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but if Brenda wanted him, it could only be because she remembered his former career. If that bastard did something to Lauren…he left it at that. It was easy to talk, but he didn’t have the whole story yet. He could keep calm. The medicine was working, or maybe the adrenaline jolt was just what his messed up brain chemistry needed. Whatever. He wouldn’t feel 100% better until Lauren was in his arms. He needed to kiss that woman badly. Yep. He was pretty sure that was just what the doctor ordered.