Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2) (15 page)

Lola frowned. “You’re very close, aren’t you?”

“She only has me. That’s all she wants, though. Sometimes I give her projects at the office, and she usually does fine. I could never hire her fulltime, though—she’s too volatile. I’m afraid others won’t either. That’s part of why I continue to help her. It’s not a financial burden for me to take care of her when she has no one else. And after what my mom did, she has trust issues on top that.”

Lola peered at him in the dark. It was becoming clear that Beau had one sure way of showing he cared—his money. Earlier he’d said he’d given up years of his life to work, hoping one day he could provide for his family. The price didn’t seem worth it, but she didn’t think he felt the same.

“Your relationship doesn’t sound healthy,” Lola said. “For either of you.”

“It’s exhausting sometimes. She knows it is.”

“Is she why you took me to a hotel rather than your house?”

He was silent a moment. “I’ve tried to get her a place of her own, but she cries and begs me not to. She says she’d rather one of us leave the house when she gets to be too much. As long as I don’t go far. She gets more put out than I do, so I go through periods where I stay at the hotel.”

Lola was instantly alarmed. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Beau was describing a possessive girlfriend. “
That’s
why you have the room? Jesus.”

“I know. She just has two levels—low or high.”

“Tonight was high?”

“Yes. She sniffed you out like a dog. Put her in a crowd, especially where men are involved, and she shines. One-on-one is more difficult. In case it’s not obvious, she gets jealous of my attention.”

Lola looked up at the stars. “I can understand that.”

“Can you? You don’t seem like the jealous type.”

When Beau’s attention was on her, Lola wasn’t just the only girl in the room—she was the only girl in the world. It was intense—unnerving—but in an addictive way. She was warm when his eyes were on her, cold when they weren’t. She shuddered.

He glanced at her. “Would you be jealous of my attention?”

Beau could most likely make any girl feel that way if he wanted. She squinted at nothing. “That would require thinking past tonight, and I don’t want to.”

“I’ll be out there with other women, Lola. You’ll be with Johnny. Everything will be normal again.”

Things would never be normal again. Even if Johnny thought they were, or if she faked it until things were as close to normal as they’d get—no, they’d never truly be normal again. The question was whether Lola could live with that. “I don’t know,” she said. “All this has given me a lot to think about.”

“Will I be there in those thoughts?”

He already was. She blinked a few times. “How could you not be? You started all of this.”

“So what’re you saying, Lola? You’re going to go home and still be thinking about me?”

“Johnny and I…we’re supposed to get through this on our love alone. On nine years’ history. I think I knew we might not, but I called you anyway. When your limo pulled up tonight, it was as if Johnny and I had made some fatal mistake.” She paused. “But I still went through with it.”

Beau cleared his throat.

Lola noticed a symphony of crickets she hadn’t before. She looked at him. “I mean, don’t get the wrong idea,” she said, flustered by his silence. This from the man who’d been so vocal, she’d wondered if he was considering going to battle with Johnny over her. “I’m not suggesting I leave him for you. It’s just, the fact that Johnny and I even went through with this means something. Somebody owes somebody an explanation, I just don’t know which one of us is at fault.”

“I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault,” Beau said. “Not even mine.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t your fault.” She couldn’t pinpoint when she’d changed over the years, but she had. She’d thought putting her sordid past behind her meant she’d matured. Now she was beginning to question what part of the life she had now she’d chosen. Johnny had become her priority, and his hobbies, friends and work had become her hobbies, friends and work. She wanted more from herself and
for
herself, except that Johnny, with the greatest opportunity of his life ahead of him, still wasn’t stepping up to the plate. “If things were right between Johnny and me, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I thought you were happy with him,” Beau said. “At least it seemed that way from afar.”

“I was,” she said. “God, I
am
—I thought so. I had no idea anything was wrong. But you shook us up like a snow globe.”

“If you’re expecting an apology—”

“I’m not.” She glanced at him and away.

“Lola,” he called her attention back. “Come here.”

She leaned across the console. He put an arm around her, pulling her close so their mouths nearly touched.

“Was I a fatal mistake?” he whispered.

“No.” She shook her head slowly, holding his gaze. “Maybe.”

He chuckled quietly.

“But don’t think I’m going all psycho and dumping my boyfriend because of a couple nights of good sex.”

Beau jerked his head back. “
Good?
Fuck. That hurts.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know what I mean. Amazing.”

“You can do better than that.”

“You’ll hold it against me.”

“Probably.”

Her smile widened. “Fine. Sex so good I think I went blind for a few seconds. Unparalleled sex.”

“Unparalleled,” he mused. “Meaning unmatched. Nobody can match it. Meaning…the best sex you’ve ever had.”

She wriggled in his arms. “Don’t get cocky on me.”

“Hmm. I’d like to get cocky all over you,” he muttered, brushing hair from her forehead. “Should we go back? Have you had your fill of stars?”

“Never,” she said. “But it’s not like we have eternity.”

She went to pull away, but Beau’s arm tightened as he kept her there.

“What?” she asked.

“I just wanted to say…I don’t know what’ll happen when the sun comes up—”

“I go home,” she said, “is what happens.”

He searched her face. “You should know how real this is for me.” He took her cheek with his other hand. “If ever there were a prize worth winning, you are it. Just know that these stars, this moment—it’s real. Everything I’m experiencing is real.”

She looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to read him. There was truth there, but it wasn’t the only thing. Something else brewed deeper. Something she didn’t recognize. What did he want to tell her? To leave Johnny for him? He couldn’t ask her to do it, but it was written on his face, woven in his touch.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Beau said. “We both knew what we were getting into. I just hope we each find what we need come sunrise.”

What we need.
Foolishly, she rarely considered what Beau needed, because he was always a pillar of strength. Maybe that was how Johnny saw her. Someone strong who didn’t need much, and who was better at taking care of herself than anyone else would ever be.

She pushed Beau gently back against the driver’s seat, keeping her eyes on his face. She felt under his T-shirt and up his flat stomach. He was warm and hard under her hand. His head fell back, and his eyes closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “When’s the last time someone touched you like this?”

He didn’t answer.

“Not to get anything,” she said. “Just to feel.”

“A while,” he said. The gravel in his voice made his answer almost unintelligible. “Maybe never.”

She caressed his chest. To hear him say never made her heart sink, made her feel lucky for the years of tenderness Johnny had given her. “Let’s go back to the hotel, Beau.”

He blinked his eyes open, looking up for a minute. “We have a few hours. Maybe we can get some sleep.”

“That’d be nice,” she said.

He started the car.

She didn’t tell him that she had no plans to sleep. That all she wanted to do was lie in his arms and try to stay awake.

Chapter Twelve

The drive back to Beau’s hotel went quickly with the absence of traffic. On their way to Mulholland, there had been promise in the wind—now, just finality.

They took the exit for the hotel, and Beau pulled into a gas station and up to a pump. “I didn’t feed you tonight,” he said through her window once the tank was filling. “I’d planned on room service again.”

Lola shrugged. “We had the Cheez-Its.”

“Which is not all that bad of a dinner, but hardly fit for a queen.” He winked. “Since I doubt there’s French toast inside, how would you feel about gas station hotdogs?”

“Best with relish,” she said.

“Then relish you will get. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lola watched him walk away, enjoying every second of his firm behind in blue jeans. She caught herself grinning—over hotdogs. It lit her up from the inside that eating hotdogs was such a normal thing to do, as if they had all the time in the world. She didn’t even particularly care for hotdogs, especially not ones that’d most likely been sitting on a rotisserie for the better part of a day. It was that she’d be having them with Beau.

But then she did start to think about the hotdogs themselves and how she actually was hungry, having eaten very little all night. Whenever she and Johnny took a trip, they’d stop for gas and sweets on their way out of town, even if they didn’t particularly need gas. Johnny would get M&Ms but her cravings came in waves. She never knew what she was in the mood for until she saw it all in front of her. That was why she’d be the one to go get the candy while Johnny filled up the tank.

Now she couldn’t stop thinking about chocolate, and Beau would have no idea what to get her. She didn’t even know herself. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. He’d paid for so much so far—dessert would be her treat. Beau probably had an old favorite, like Johnny. Men were like that. They found something that worked and stuck with it.

She pulled open the gas station door, walked in and stopped cold. Beau stood frozen at the counter, and a large, bearded man held a gun to his head. Beau’s hands were clenched at his sides. The gas station attendant transferred cash from the register into a garbage bag.

“I told you, there isn’t a single thing in my car,” Beau was saying, his head slightly tilted as the barrel pressed into his temple. His eyes flickered to Lola and back. Slowly, he signaled with his hand for her to leave. “Everything’s on me. I have plenty of cash. I just need to reach in my pocket and get it.”

“Which pocket?”

“Back right,” Beau said.

Every beat of Lola’s heart was acute. Rabid. She ached. He wouldn’t hold her as she lay awake tonight. There wouldn’t be a heartbreaking decision to make in the morning. They had fought each other, themselves, those around them—why? For it to end this way? She would’ve run to him if she could move. Her mouth was open, but she hadn’t even been breathing.

“There’s nothing here,” the man said.

“Must be the left pocket.” Beau widened his eyes at her, nodded once and mouthed, “Go.” She barely registered that he was trying to distract the man from turning around.

“You’re fucking with me.” He reared back to hit Beau with the gun.

“I have it,” Lola cried out. She couldn’t even remember what she was supposed to have, her mind spun so fast. He wanted something. She would give it to him. Anything to change the picture in front of her—Beau, her strong, solid Beau, with a gun to his head.

The man whirled to her. “On the ground,” he said.

He waved the gun back and forth, and when it stopped on her, her scalp went cold. His matted gray beard matched his leaden eyes, matched the pistol aimed at her face. His oversized army-green jacket had holes.

“Down,” Beau ordered through his teeth. He gestured again, this time for her to lie on the floor. His dark eyes bore into her, willing her to submit.

She had to be brave. If she lay down, Beau would remain the target. She couldn’t have that. Her breath came short as she looked between them.

“Listen, bitch.” He put the barrel to Beau’s head again. “This will be you if you don’t get the fuck down.”

Beau thrust his hand into his front pocket. “She’s lying. My wallet’s in—”

The man cocked the gun and shoved it harder into Beau’s skull. “I told you not to move, motherfucker. Put it in the bag and do it slow.”

Beau slid it out and dropped it in with the rest of the money.

“Now you,” he said, nodding at Lola. “Throw your purse over here.”

As long as the gun was on Beau, she saw nothing else. All it would take was a slip of the finger, a burst of anger. “Not until you put the gun down.”

“Who the fuck you think’s in charge?” the man asked.

She held up her purse, waving it as if he were a bear and she had his dinner. The man was off—he could snap at any moment, but if he did, she’d make sure that gun was pointed anywhere but at Beau. Even if it was aimed at her instead. “If you want it, come take it from me.”

“Throw the fucking purse,” Beau said sharply.

Purse. Wallet. Money.
Her brain began to thaw. “I have cash.” Her legs wobbled. She took a step back and raised her chin. “I just came from the ATM.”

He looked from Beau to Lola and back before walking toward her.

Beau lunged, but the man was fast. He spun around and trained the weapon on Beau again. He backed his way to Lola, feeling for her with the same hand he clutched the garbage bag in. She couldn’t tell how lucid he was. She didn’t want to test him, so she stayed where she was. He grabbed her shirt and pulled her in front of him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and jamming the cold muzzle under her chin, forcing her head up. He slid his hand down her stomach. “Give it to me.”

The barrel pressed into her throat when she swallowed. She tried not to cough and instead inhaled a wilting blend of urine, body odor and hard alcohol. Without moving more than she had to or looking down, she surrendered the purse.

“She and I are going to walk out,” he said to Beau. “If you want to keep her alive, don’t make any moves until I’m gone. Got it?”

“I lied,” Beau said hastily. He was below her line of vision, on her peripheral, but there was clear desperation in his voice. “About the car. And what’s in it. I can get you anything you want. I have more money than you can dream of.”