Sweet Vengeance (4 page)

Without
thinking, she slid her arms around his waist, ignoring the tenderness from her
wound.  She couldn't explain why, but she wanted...no, needed to hold him
close.  She would never have guessed the strong man who'd tossed her over his
shoulder like a ragdoll and had fired back against deadly bullets had a heart. 
"It's okay."  She said it, but she didn't believe it.  Nothing would
ever be okay again. 

He
held her for a few moments more and then pulled away as he stood, his
expression once again composed.  There was no remaining sign of the angst he'd
just shared with her.

She'd
have to learn to bury her emotions, too. 

"It's
almost noon," he said, making a point of looking at the bedside clock. 
"You hungry?"

"Not
really."  Her raging emotions had stolen her appetite.  She wondered if
she'd ever feel like eating again.  She tucked her long bangs behind her ear. 
"What I really want is a shower."  Cold water on her puffy eyes and
lots of hot water coursing down her body.  It wouldn't take away the pain, but
she needed to do something normal. 

Someone
had washed the obvious blood—hers and Joey's—from her body, but she still felt
the taint from the previous night.  More than anything, she wished she could
change her clothes and burn the white tank top and skirt that still had smudges
of blood on them.  She started to wonder where her jacket had ended up and then
realized it didn't matter.  It was no good with a bullet hole in it.

"A
shower is a definite possibility."  His gaze traveled from her hands to
the bandage on her arm, and back to her face. 

She
tried to ignore the jolt she felt every time their eyes connected. 

"You
can't get your bandages wet, but if you hang on for a second, I think we can
rig something."  He walked out, leaving her alone in the bedroom.

The
crying had cleared some of the drugs from her system.  The moment he left, the
gears in her brain started to mesh again.  She exhaled and began to study her
surroundings.  Growing up in a rough neighborhood had taught her some survival
skills. 

The
room was comfortable with nice furnishings, but it felt more like a hotel room
than someone's home.  Still, she had no clue where she was.  But more than
caring where she was, she wanted to know how Jase had known she would need him
to save her last night.  It was too much of a coincidence to think he'd shown
up by accident. 

Who
was he really?

She
slowly stood, careful to keep her balance as she crossed the room to the
blinds.  She peered out between the slats, finding the bright May sunshine
glinting off the water.  In the distance, she could see the skyline of
Chicago.  Thankfully, she was still in her hometown. 

She
turned when Boo came bounding back into the room.  He walked up to her and
nosed her hand, leaving a wet feeling on her fingertips.  She stared down at
the friendly dog.  From the looks of him, the Border Collie was still a pup. 

"Hey,
Boo."  She skimmed his soft head.  "Where's your ball?"

His
ears perked up, and he dashed out of the room.  The tags on his collar jingled
as he left.  He returned a few seconds later with the orange ball in his
mouth.  Allie caught herself smiling.  Then tears threatened again over the
guilt of the emotion, but she held them back.  "You're a smart doggie,
aren't you?"  She pulled the toy out of the dog's mouth and threw it into
the hallway.  He ran after it, and without thinking, she followed.

She
made it a few steps down the short hallway before she met Jase returning with a
handful of supplies. 

"I've
got you covered."  He smiled as he held up a pair of rubber gloves and a
roll of masking tape.  "Literally." 

She
found his smile contagious and returned a small one of her own.  Joey hadn't
been dead twenty-four hours yet, and it seemed all she could do was smile or
cry.  God help her, she didn't want to do either of them.

"Come
here."  He motioned inside the bedroom toward the dresser where he laid
his contraband.  "These rubber gloves should keep your hands dry." 
He slipped one gently over her fingers and up her wrist.  She watched as he
used his teeth to tear off a piece of tape before he wrapped it around the edge
of the glove.  "You're still going to have to be careful to not let the
water get in.  This will hold, but not for long."  His hands were
calloused and scarred, and had obviously seen a lot of abuse during his
lifetime.  The way he'd fired off those shots last night, more than likely they
were the hands of a killer. 

She
lifted her gaze and watched his face as he slid on the second glove.  Hard
angles.  A small scar above his right eye.  Lips that turned sensuous when he
smiled.  Up close, he didn't appear to be much older than her, but his big
muscles and street smarts made him seem like it.

He
glanced up, catching her as she studied him.  "Does that feel okay?"

She
nodded. 

He
paused for a moment, their connecting gazes creating a current.  Without saying
anything, he broke the link between them and picked up a small piece of plastic
wrap.  "I need to tape this on your arm, and you'll be good to go."

He
must have sensed the tension that had sprung between them.  Memories of the
awful things that had happened the night before hung in the air, and he had to
know she'd want answers sooner or later.  "Your name is Jase, isn't
it?"  Her words echoed in the quiet room.   

He
paused, meeting her gaze once again.  "It is."

"I
remember that from last night when—after Joey was shot."  A deep pain
squeezed her heart. 

He
watched her with dark eyes, as though waiting for a reaction.

She
swallowed fresh tears.  "We were going to get married.  Joey and
me."  She took a breath.  "We were going to move away and start a
family."  How could her dreams have been shattered so easily?  "He
was the love of my"—her voice faltered.  "I loved him."

He
shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  I wish I could change things for you."

She
wished that with all of her heart, too. 

Thoughts
shifted in her brain.  "Why were you there?" 

The
question didn't seem to surprise him.  With a slight tilt of his head, he
narrowed his eyes and studied her.  "I had business in the area."

Did
he really think she would buy that answer?  "What kind of business?"

"Just
business."  He broke eye contact, taking a step away from her.  He focused
on gathering the tape and scissors. 

"The
drug business?"  She took a step closer to him, not intimidated by his
height or muscles, needing to lash out at someone for what had happened. 
"Are you in the drug business, too?"  Her voice raised an octave. 
"Are you like the rest of these drug families?  The ones who stole my Joey
from me?" 

She
could see it now.  He was nothing but an older, more experienced version of her
boyfriend.  If Joey had lived and they hadn't left town, this is what he would
have become. 

"I
know what you're feeling, Allie."  A grim look clouded his face. 
"I'm sorry for what you've been through.  Really.  And I want to help
you.  But the less you know about me, the better."  

"So,
you're not going to tell me anything?"  Tears of frustration and anger returned. 
She didn't know if it was her pregnancy or shock, but her emotions were
bouncing all over the place.  "Who are you?  Why were you there?"

"It
doesn't matter.  You're safe."  He turned and walked to the doorway. 
"The bathroom is across the hall.  There are extra clothes in there that
should fit."  He walked out.

"Where
did you get clothes from?"  She followed him, catching sight of his
retreating form as he headed down the stairs.  "Where did they come from? 
Who are you?"  She wanted to scream.

He
paused in his descent.  "If you want to live, don't leave this
house."  Then he was gone.

She
let out a cry of frustration.  Damn him.  She was not going to be kept in the
dark.  She
would
figure it all out—why Joey was murdered, who Jase
really was, everything.

She
stood for a moment, pondering her choices, before she turned and found her way
to the shower.  It was the thought of fresh clothes that kept her from
following Jase down the stairs.  That and the fact she'd realized she'd
probably pushed him enough for now. 

The
bathroom was small but clean and again, had no personal touches.  No razor.  No
toothbrush.  Questions raced through her mind.  Was it Jase's home?  Was he
married?  Kids? 

No,
she decided.  He wouldn't have taken her to his place if he was married.  Who
would invite violence into their home? 

She
inhaled a shaky breath.  Violence.  She'd become a victim of violence.  One
minute she'd had her future ahead of her, and now she was something to be dealt
with because of what violence had done to her.

Her
insides crumpled.  She wanted to go home.

The
shower didn't help, she thought as she wrapped herself in a fluffy beige
towel.  She hadn't enjoyed the hot water at all.  It hadn't rinsed away the
awful memories, and trying to wash her hair with taped on rubber gloves had
been awkward.  

As
she dried off, her attention was snagged by the small tattoo over her left
breast.  The heart made out of Chinese symbols with her and Joey's initials in
the center was barely two days old.  Joey had had the male version tattooed on
his chest.  He'd said the symbols were meant to tie them together forever. 

Now
what?  She had his baby growing inside her and a constant reminder over her
heart of the love they should have shared for the rest of their lives.  Damn
it.  She blotted the tears that slipped down her cheeks.  How could Joey have
been so careless with their future? 

She
closed off her feelings as she mechanically hung up her towel.  She didn't want
to consider it, but perhaps Joey hadn't loved her as much as she'd thought.  It
was obvious he'd put what he wanted before what she needed.  And now she would
have to put her baby's needs before her own.

She
tried to force Joey out of her mind as she slipped into the small T-shirt,
grateful the jeans fit her pretty well.  She finger-combed her wet hair. 

Pausing,
she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.  Dark circles shadowed her
green eyes.  Her cheeks were pale, made worse by the dark, wet hair framing her
face. 

Other
fears crowded in.  Her baby was okay, wasn't it?  She'd been jostled around
pretty good the night before.  And she had no idea if the drugs Doc Green had
given her could have hurt anything.  She was pretty sure Aunt Rita wouldn't let
her stay when she found out she was pregnant.  Would she even
be
safe
staying there?  She put her fingertips to her forehead, trying to stave off a
pounding headache. 

What
she really needed was to eat, if not for her, then for her baby.  She could
handle that, so for now, that's what she'd do.  She gathered her stained
clothes and left the room.

The
sound of male voices greeted her at the top of the stairs.  Loud voices,
punctuated by numerous cuss words.  They were talking about kicking Gino's ass,
whoever he was. 

She
cautiously made her way down, hoping to be able to survey the room before they
realized she was there. 

No
such luck.  The voices halted before she saw their faces.  She glanced through
the wooden railing as she descended the stairs and found eight sets of male
eyes all watching her.  There was appreciation, even lust, in some and wariness
in others. 

The
men lounged on brown leather sofas or hovered nearby.  Most had dark hair. 
Some had tattoos of dangerous objects on their oversized biceps.  A few packed
guns in their shoulder holsters.  A large revolver rested on the coffee table
between the sofas like a silent warning.  She wouldn't be surprised if the rest
had a weapon on them somewhere she couldn't see.

All
in all, they intimidated the hell out of her.  Much more frightening than
Joey's boys.

Unfortunately,
Jase wasn't among them.  Her gaze stopped on Max.  He hadn't been particularly
nice to her the previous evening, but at least she knew who he was.  "I'm
just going to the kitchen for something to eat."

Max
stared at her for a hard second.  His blue eyes were glaciers, his baseball hat
compressed on his head.  "It's that way."  He nodded over his
shoulder.

Allie
looked past the hardcore group to the doorway on the opposite side of the room
and swallowed.  "Okay.  Thanks."  She tried to pretend each one of
those men didn't follow every step she took.  

When
Allie reached the shelter of the kitchen, she began to breathe again.  Jase
belonged to a pretty serious organization, and suddenly, she didn't feel nearly
as safe as she had moments earlier when she'd been alone upstairs.  The rough
men in the other room had lowered their voices, but she still heard someone ask
who she was.  Her cheeks burned when Max replied she was Jase's new piece of
ass.