Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (20 page)

But I thought about a lot of things, too. I thought about Kes and Aimee, the years they’d spent apart, and the love that brought them back together; I thought about Zef and his brother Daniel, and how the death of their parents had made them close; I thought about Zach and Luke; I thought about Ollo, and how tough life could be when you were different. All carnies—the people who made up my family.

I thought about Momma and the stories she used to tell me about my pa and how he liked messing with bikes too; stories that stopped when she married my stepfather. I thought about Renee and Scotty, and what she was prepared to do for her kid. I thought about myself and the way I’d lived and was still living.

And I thought about Tera, who’d blazed into my life like a shooting star, and was gone just as fast.

Then I picked up my phone and made a call.

Satisfied with the answer, I took double the number of pain pills I was allowed and passed out.

When I woke up in the morning, my body ached, but not nearly as badly as it had the day before. Better yet, my head felt clear. I still looked like shit, but I didn’t care about that.

I thought back to the call I’d made the night before and was still satisfied that I’d made the right decision.

Maybe Tucker McCoy had grown up at last.

I sent a text to Renee to meet me in the diner in four hours.

I thought about texting Tera, but I had no clue what to say, so I took the coward’s way out—I did nothing.

When I arrived at the diner, Renee was slowly shredding a napkin, waiting for me with a wary look on her face.

“We going to do round two now?” she asked, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Maybe, that’s up to you,” and I passed her the envelope.

“What’s this?”

“Well, it’s easier to find out if you open it,” I said, leaning back and gazing at her.

Frowning, she opened the envelope, then her eyes grew big and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Tucker, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. You said you wanted to get Scotty out of here—now’s your chance.”

“But . . . there must be thousands of dollars here,” she said, rifling through the money.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” I confirmed.

“But how? You said you were broke?”

I shook my head slowly. “I said I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t.”

“Then how?”

I looked down at my arm in a sling. “The doc says I can’t ride a bike for a month—maybe more. Can’t do stunts for three. I’ve got my stunt bike back at the carnival. That’s all I need.”

She stared at me as understanding sank in.

“You sold that fancy Italian motorcycle?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For me?”

“For Scotty.”

She frowned.

“You were right, Renee. You should have been the one to get away from here. You’re smart and Scotty seems like a good kid. I shouldn’t have run out on you. I should have stayed . . . I didn’t protect you and I should have. So this is me, saying I’m sorry. Please take the money. Make a better life for both of you. I’ll get more when I can. And then maybe . . . maybe I can be a part of his life?”

She looked down at the money and sucked in a long breath.

“Thank you, Tucker.”

“I don’t want him to think I was a deadbeat who couldn’t give a shit about him. But I know that you need to get away first. So when you get . . . wherever you’re going to go, you’ll let me know? And I can . . . I don’t know . . . come see you . . . get to know him?”

She swallowed and nodded quickly.

“Do I figure in this?” she asked quietly. “You and me . . . could we . . . ?”

I shook my head slowly, meeting her steady gaze. “That ship has sailed.”

She closed her eyes and nodded again.

“I know.”

When she looked up her eyes were glazed with a sheen of tears.

“I’m sorry . . . for the way things worked out. I . . . if there’s anything I can ever do for you . . .”

I nodded.

“You could drive me to the airport.”

She smiled and reached across the table to squeeze my good hand.

“I can do that.”

Tera

With what was left of my pride, holding the shattered pieces of my heart in my empty hands, I’d left Tucker in the hospital, dried blood on his shirt, and I walked away.

I walked away.

I told myself that I had too much pride to chase a man who lied to my face, who had a son he’d abandoned. A man who didn’t want me. But the truth was that I lacked the courage to go after what I wanted. Too much pride, but too little courage. And everyone would say I did the right thing.

How ironic.

Dad came to my hotel. I didn’t even bother to ask how he’d found me or why he was there. He probably tracked my cell phone. Yes, he pretended he had some business to take care of in Nashville, and he asked me to help him out with the PR. But I wasn’t a complete idiot; only when it came to Tucker, it seemed.

I went to the meetings Dad had lined up with his connections in the city, and he introduced me as his daughter and PR expert. Whatever.

For the next two days, I went through the motions. I found it hard to look my father in the eye and wondered about confronting him. But what was the point? He’d just deny it, and he was much better at covering up a lie than I was. Although I was getting in some good practice now. “I’m fine,” were words that fell from my tongue every hour.

I was relieved when his work was finished so I could head back to San Francisco. Emotionally, I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack Truck.

Senator Andrew Hawkins shrugged into his jacket and turned to me. He didn’t even have to ask me to straighten his tie: it had been my special job since I was a little girl.

I smoothed out the double-Windsor knot, pretending it wasn’t already perfect.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, brushing a kiss over my hair. “It means a lot to me that you’ve been here to support your old dad.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. My father knew that he still had it. His thick hair was silver at the temples, and a few laugh lines edged his eyes and mouth, but he was a good-looking man and appealed to both female and male voters. Plus, he was fanatical about staying in shape, saying that a healthy body meant a healthy mind, something I knew for a fact was bullshit. After all, he’d been cheating on Mom from the start of their marriage, and I’d begun to wonder if he wasn’t still cheating on her. I didn’t think either eventualities constituted anything but a healthy dick.

The bottom line was that my father is a good-looking guy at 50 and could pass for ten years younger—and he totally knows it.

My smile came out a little tight. I’d made it very clear that I didn’t want to be here, that he’d coerced me. Whatever the Senator wanted—he always got his own way.

The Senator smiled and winked at me, and my breath caught. My God, how could I not have seen it before? He looked just like Kes before he went out to do a stunt: adrenaline; the excitement of performing for the crowd.

I looked away from him and concentrated on keeping a professional smile on my face in front of the people seeing us off: the perfect daughter of a potential Presidential candidate.

He’d gained a 15 point lead against his nearest rival over the last year—the revelation that he had two children out of wedlock had made him seem human and relatable. People loved it, especially as Mom had decided to stand by him. I knew Dad would have liked to have my older brother, Connor, shoulder to shoulder with him, in his Air Force uniform, of course. But Kes . . . no, a carnival stunt rider couldn’t help my father climb any political ladders. I had a feeling that Dad would still try to use my burgeoning relationship with Connor as a means to that end. So far, he hadn’t made a move, but my father was a patient man.

I hadn’t wanted to stay here after everything that happened with Tucker, but Dad had gotten his own way as usual. He didn’t need me at all. The Senate’s PR team was more than capable of handling his visit.

I fingered the edge of my jacket, a lightweight raw silk. It was supposed to be cool to wear, but the stifling heat of a Tennessee summer was too much. I felt a bead of sweat trickle between my breasts, and I shifted uncomfortably in my four-inch heels.

Taking a calming breath, I walked behind my father as he made his way to the waiting limousine, smiling the way I’d been taught for the two journalists taking their last chance of a picture.

Dad’s driver was taking me to the airport at Nashville, although he had another meeting to get to.

“Well, I think this has been a successful trip, don’t you, Tera? I’ve got to say, working with my beautiful daughter is inspiring. We must do this again, sweetheart.”

In some ways it would have been easier to just smile and nod, but I couldn’t do it.

I turned to look at him.

“I know what you did to Tucker, Dad. What you had done to him.”

“Tera, I . . .”

I raised my hand.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I have to, sweetheart, but I’m not going to apologize for looking after my little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl. I’m 27.”

He shook his head. “You’re my little girl and always will be.”

Then he took my hand in his and held it lovingly. I jerked my hand free.

“Beating up my . . .” I stumbled over the appropriate word to describe Tucker. “Beating up a man like that is not looking after me. It’s cruel and it’s wrong. I should report it to the police.”

He raised his eyebrows, giving me an amused smile.

“That would be a pointless exercise.”

“I know, so I won’t. This time.”

He frowned, his lips pressing together into a hard line.

“I know what guys like that want, what they’re after. Hell, for all I know, Kestrel told him to do it just to get back at me. You know that you’re the most important person in the whole world to me.”

I could see the love and concern in his eyes, but he was wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Was the beating enough? Did he agree to stay away from me?”

My father’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh,” I said softly. “He didn’t.”

“It’s a cruel world out there, Tera. You don’t know. You don’t understand . . .”

I gave him a grim look. “That doesn’t mean you to have to protect me from the world.”

“Yes, it does,” he said fiercely. “That’s exactly what being a father means.”

I looked at him sadly. “But I’m not your only child.”

He stiffened and looked away.

“I’ll always look after my little girl,” he repeated firmly.

“I know.”

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and slid out of the car as the driver opened the door.

I was relieved that I could wait at the airport by myself, alone with my thoughts.

I bought myself a coffee and a gossip magazine to pass the time, enjoying the normalcy of being anonymous.

Or not.

Of all the luck!

I recognized Tucker immediately, his height, his lean muscled body moving with confidence in my direction. But his right arm was in a sling, and instead of his usual graceful movements, he was walking with a slight limp. His face was a mess too, a scab on his lip and another over a very black eye. I could tell that he was in pain from the permanent grimace that tugged at his lips. He was trying to carry his backpack and helmet in one hand, and avoid getting his damaged arm jostled by the crowd.

He hadn’t seen me yet, so I slid lower in my seat, peeking at him over the top of my magazine. He looked tired and he hadn’t shaved, that delicious golden scruff covering his face that I’d felt three nights ago between my legs.

I grew uncomfortably hot at the memory, but the rational part of my brain convinced my body to stay put.

I watched him until he was out of sight, then let out a long breath.

I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that he hadn’t seen me. It was going to be so awkward next time we met at Kes and Aimee’s. He’d definitely been right about wanting to avoid that particular disaster. I wish I’d listened. Hopefully, by the time it happened, enough water would have flowed under that particular bridge.

I’d been a fool. Played by the ultimate player.

I was of two minds whether or not he’d deserved the beating my father’s men had given him. I could have quite happily kicked his ass myself. But still, four or five on one—hardly a fair fight. But the other thing was . . .

“Hey, TC.”

I nearly dropped my paper coffee cup when I heard him say my name hesitantly.

I looked up slowly, my eyes roving over his battered face.

“Do I know you?”

He forced a smile. “Not sure I know myself at the moment. Can I sit down?”

“Will it make any difference if I say no?”

His smile vanished and he stared at me intently. “Yeah, it will. Say the word and I won’t bother you again.”

Say no! Say no! Say no!

“Take a seat.”

Oh God, why did I say that?

He smiled with relief, then carefully lowered himself into the plastic chair, wincing as he jarred his arm.

“How’s the shoulder?”

I saw a flash of the old Tucker when he grinned at me.