The Secret Life of Bryan (15 page)

After scanning the area, he stepped out onto the roadway. He was good at what he did, but he couldn’t fight ghosts. There were no clues left behind. Just as Bruce had said, the day was sunny, so the ground was dry. There were no footprints to track. Nothing.

Disgust gripped him. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and put in a call to the police. As usual, they were plenty busy, but someone would drop by soon.

Next, he called Bruce. Rather than answer, his brother stepped out of an alley adjacent to the safe house. “You okay?”

Bryan actually jumped, then cursed. “Goddamnit, what are you doing skulking around out here?”

“Skulking, what else?”

“I didn’t see you.”

“So maybe I have just enough of you in me to be good at not being seen.”

“A scary thought.” Bryan folded the phone and tucked it away. “I don’t want you to be anything like me.”

“Too late.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Bruce stepped forward, his gaze on the paint smeared over Bryan’s face and in his hair. “I wanted to make sure you kept your word about visiting with the women.” With his own hair disheveled and his tattered collar turned up, he looked like every other hobo in the area.

“It’s not blood.”

Bruce nodded. “I know. I heard what you told the police. Funny, I was right there, hanging out in the abandoned building, but after I watched you go in, I stopped paying attention.” He sounded disgusted with himself.

“You’d have heard a car, right?”

“I suppose so. I heard you talking on the phone.” He propped his hands on his hips. “Is everyone okay?”

“It was a fucking paintball. Can you believe that? Not a bullet. Not something the police will take seriously.” Bryan pressed his fist to his forehead, undecided on what to do next. “If the damn thing had hit me, there’d be a dent in my head instead of the wall. But they’re not supposed to be lethal. Hell, kids play with the things.”

“A warning, maybe?”

“Maybe.” His eyes narrowed. “Against you. I guess since beating the hell out of you didn’t work, they’re stepping it up a notch.”

“If it was the same guy. But Bryan, you know as well as I do that random acts of violence aren’t uncommon around here.”

“No, it was the same guy. I feel it.”

“Then I should—”

Shay’s anxious voice cut through the hush of their conversation. “Bryan?”

Bruce faded back, but he was smiling and he mimicked,
“Bryan?”
without actually making a sound.

Bryan turned to glare at Shay. “I told you to stay put.”

“And I told you that you weren’t my boss. Besides, I figured if you could stand in the middle of the street talking, it must be safe.” She shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. “You got a call.”

As she spoke, she stared toward the alley Bruce had just slipped into. Bryan could see her frown of curiosity.

He jogged back to the house. “Is it the cops? I talked with them already.”

Her lips rolled in and she shook her head. “I don’t think so. He said he’d call right back, that I better get you and you better not make him wait.”

After digesting that, Bryan grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside the house with him. “How the hell did he call? I left the phone off the hook.”

Barb stood at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed tight. “I hung it up.” And then, with enough belligerence to hide her worry, “There’s paint and glass all over the kitchen. How am I supposed to clean that up?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t want anyone cleaning it until he could show it to the cops.

Shay asked, “Who were you talking to outside?”

“Just a bystander. He didn’t hear a car, so whoever shot in must have been on foot. If I’d gotten out here sooner, I might have caught him.” He said that with a glare at her, since she’d kept him inside with her worry.

The phone rang again, forestalling Shay’s reply.

Staying out of the way of the window, Bryan reached into the kitchen and snatched up the receiver. He already knew who it’d be. “What?”

His abrupt tone caused a slight pause before the caller growled, “That could be your brains all over the wall.”

“Not likely, asshole.” Deliberately taunting, Bryan added, “Your aim sucks.”

“I missed on purpose!”

Bryan laughed. “Everyone who misses says that.”

With a snarl, the man warned, “Close up shop, Preacher. Get the hell out of my town. And leave my girls alone.” The line went dead.

Girls? More than one?
Squeezing the receiver so hard that his knuckles ached, Bryan turned—and came face-to-face with Shay and Barb. They wore identical expressions of dumbfounded surprise.

Shay cleared her throat. “Asshole?” she asked.

“You egged him on,” Barb added. “Are you nuts?”

“Exactly.” Shay nodded. “That’s what I asked him earlier.”

It wasn’t easy, but Bryan swallowed down his irritation. He kept forgetting that he wasn’t a bounty hunter right now, he was a preacher, but the game kept getting harder and harder to play. He started to make up excuses. Then a new thought intruded. “Ah, hell. Patti, Morganna and Amy are out there.”

Shay stiffened. “Do you think they’re in danger?”

“He can’t know where they are,” Barb reasoned.

“He knew I was here.” Bryan started for the living room, and Shay jogged to keep up with him.

“But you answered the phone,” Shay reasoned. “Maybe that’s all he was doing, waiting for you to answer. For a couple of days now, we’ve been getting empty calls.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think anything of it.”

“It could be coincidence, or planned just for me, but I’m not chancing it.” He jerked the front door open. “Give me the addresses for where they were going.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Like hell. He wasn’t about to risk her more than he already had just by association. “I need you to stay here and talk with the police.”

“Barb can do that.” She turned to Barb for verification.

Barb nodded. “’Course I can. Go on.” She shooed them away. “Make sure the others are okay.”

Bryan wanted to argue, but Shay looked pretty damn set in her decision, and time was again ticking away.
Shit, shit, shit.
“All right. But do everything I tell you.”

Shay saluted smartly. “Yes, sir.”

Bryan took her arm again and they jogged to the apartment lot three buildings down, where he’d left the wagon parked. When he reached it, his fury exploded. No way could he hold the anger in.

“Son of a bitch.”

Shay was too busy staring at the slashed tires to react to his curses. “Should we take the bus?”

“No.” He rubbed his head again, more rigid by the moment. “I’ll call in a few favors.”

“What type of favors are owed a preacher?”

“The best kind.” He dialed from his cell phone, turned his back on Shay so she couldn’t listen in, and less than a minute later, he’d arranged for all three women to be picked up by men he trusted. He knew Shay was bursting with questions, but he kept her busy calling the establishments where they’d gone, to tell the women what had happened.

Bryan listened as she spoke with the proprietors, and was reminded yet again that she knew all of them personally. She had that easy familiar way of speaking with them that only came through long-standing relationships.

Hopefully those relationships were based on friendship, and not on something more intimate.

Even as he thought that, he knew it shouldn’t matter to him.

But it did.

When she’d finished and they were assured the women would be kept safe, they started back to the house.

“All right, Bryan.”

He kept his gaze on the area, watching for any sign of trouble. “All right, what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she demanded. “What’s going on? Who wants to hurt you? And what kind of life did you lead before becoming a preacher?”

Bryan kept his gaze on the surrounding area, watching for any sign of trouble. “You insinuating something, Shay?”

“I’m trying to understand, not judge.”

No, Shay wouldn’t judge him.

She pursed her mouth in thought. “I think that before you became a preacher, you led a…colorful life, and it comes through in your language whenever you get PO’d.”

“PO’d?” He grinned. “You mean when I’m royally pissed, don’t you?” And then, to cut her off before she got started dissecting him, “If we’re going into our pasts, let’s start with yours instead. I have plenty of questions already piled up.”

Her eyebrows drew down and she quickly ducked her head. Not a single peep escaped her.

“Shay?” he taunted.

“Oh, look.” Her expression was falsely bright. “The police are just pulling up. We should go talk to them.”

Bryan caught her hand and pulled her to a halt. His hold was unyielding, but his thumb brushed her knuckles and he kept his tone gentle. “You have to tell me sooner or later.”

“I know.” And with a hopeful wince: “Can I opt for later?”

The officers were at the front door, waiting with Barb, who promptly pointed him out. Bryan gave up. “All right. But we will talk later. And…Shay? Whatever you tell me…it won’t matter.” At least, he hoped it wouldn’t.

Shay didn’t answer. She strode ahead, taking charge as usual. She invited the officers in and offered to make fresh coffee. Barb, who usually ran the show, just got out of her way. Bryan knew how Barb felt. Once Shay got started, there was no stopping her.

Soon he’d get her started on explanations.

B
ruce let himself into his cramped, dirty little apartment and promptly relocked the door. Contrary to his brother’s perceptions, he wasn’t an idiot. He had to be careful and on the lookout—for himself
and
Bryan.

He hated the apartment, but it suited his disguise as one of the more impoverished denizens. He was able to stay close, keeping tabs on his women and on his brother. God understood his concern where Bryan was concerned.

But Bryan wouldn’t.

No way was he going to leave his brother’s back unprotected. Sure, someone had gotten to him. It happened to the best of them. But he wasn’t helpless—not by a long shot.

Bryan wouldn’t accept that. He was a protector by nature, as pure in his motives as Bruce could ever be. Not that he’d ever acknowledge any heroic, protective tendencies. Bryan preferred to see himself as the black sheep in a family of snowy white lambs.

Bruce laughed quietly to himself. His brother was really something else. Something
good.

And Shay. He shook his head. She had Bryan going in circles, and when it all came out in the end, he had no doubt that Bryan would blow his stack. He just hoped Shay had enough fortitude to carry through on her mission.

Yes, he knew her. Not personally, but he’d followed her work in the papers, admired her from afar. She was a remarkable, very giving person, and she’d gotten a bum rap in a situation that wasn’t her fault.

Unfortunately, once the media labeled you, no one retrenched. It didn’t matter what information was later presented; the ugliest slant was the one that stuck, because it sold the most papers.

Bruce wished her luck, especially now that her newest mission in life seemed to be loving his brother.

For once, the lumpy, smelly bed didn’t bother Bruce as he stretched out, already busy formulating plans. He’d protect Bryan the best he could, but he’d also try to protect Shay. She didn’t know Bryan the way he did, and she didn’t know about Megan and the effect she’d had on someone as proud as Bryan. It all factored in.

The Crown Princess had her work cut out for her this time. But with God’s help, and Bruce’s interference, his brother would find a “happily ever after” in the end. Bruce would see to it.

The police considered the incident to be no more than a lark by unruly kids that had gotten out of hand. One officer noted that the paintball must have been frozen to travel as far and as hard as it had. He agreed it could have done serious damage had it hit Bryan.

But they also had several cases lined up of idiots in cars shooting paintballs at pedestrians, so this wasn’t an isolated case, except that it had come through a window into a home. They took a report, but didn’t hold much hope of catching the perpetrator any time soon.

After they left, Bryan realized how quiet Barb had become. She stood alone, propped against the wall, far too introspective for her usual bossy self.

Bryan frowned. Like most of the women, Barb had lived a life of uncertainty and degradation that fostered a sense of low self-esteem. Acting in Bruce’s stead, Bryan was supposed to be protecting her now, not exposing her to violence.

Without thinking, he put his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened but didn’t pull away. “You okay?” he asked.

Typical of Barb, she snorted rudely. “Of course I am.”
Now
she shrugged his hand off.

Bryan grinned. She could be so surly. “Glad to hear it.”

She nodded toward the kitchen doorway. “So why’d this happen, you think?”

As if they shared the same thought, Bryan locked gazes with Shay. Almost as one, they said, “Amy.”

Barb curled her lip. “Amy? What’s she got to do with this? She’s with Morganna and Patti.”

“I don’t mean that she did it,” Bryan explained. “Amy wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone.” He paced, sharing his thoughts as he sorted through them. “But it concerns her somehow.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The guy working her didn’t want to let her go. He could still be mad about her escaping here.”

Shay spoke up. “And he hurt her. Maybe he’s afraid she’ll file assault charges after all.”

“I doubt it.” Barb crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive way. “Most of us have been slapped around before. It comes with the territory. Believe me, the cops don’t have much sympathy for us.”

Shay pokered up so fast, she somehow made herself look taller, meaner, like an Amazon ready for battle. “
No one
has the right to hurt you. Ever.”

Barb just stared at her. “I didn’t say I’d put up with it. I’m here, too, remember?”

“The guy who hurt Amy was supposed to be in jail,” Bryan explained, interrupting what looked to be a clash of female wills. “But I think I’ll check on that. Could be he’s loose again. Or he could have some nasty friends or relatives. His kind usually hang out in packs.”

Barb rolled her eyes. “You make him sound like a wolf.”

“That’d be insulting to a wolf,” Shay said, still up in arms over the idea of anyone brutalizing a woman. “I think he should be flogged. He should be locked up for life. He’s a waste of humanity.”

Seeing Shay so emotional made Bryan want to hold her, to soothe her, but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t seem to stop with a simple act of comfort, not where Shay was concerned. Because she was so volatile, he kept an eye on her while speaking to Barb. “I’m going to check on things, Barb, so can you keep an extra close eye on Amy? I’m worried about her.”

“Me too,” Shay said. “She’s younger than the rest of us, and somehow more frail.”

“Sure.” Barb straightened away from the wall. “I’ll watch out for her. But I’ve had enough for one day. I’m going to a friend’s.”

Alarmed, Shay took two steps toward her. “A friend?”

In sneering tones, Barb said, “Female friend, Miss Nosy. In these clothes you’ve got me wearing, I sure as hell couldn’t sell anything.”

“Oh, Barb, I didn’t mean…”

“Forget it. Considering what’s happened today, I’ll call myself a cab.” She went upstairs to use a phone in one of the bedrooms.

Shay wilted with guilt. “I insulted her.”

“No, Barb just likes to gripe. That’s why the others call her Bad Barb.”

A sad, reluctant smile curled her mouth. “Just not to her face?”

“Right.”

She sighed, wilting right before his eyes. “It has been a long day, and it’s not even noon yet.”

Bryan hesitated, but in case his instincts were wrong, he had to cover every possibility. And because he knew so little about her, Shay was a possibility. “I meant what I said, Shay. I want to get to know you better.”

Wariness entered her gaze. “In what way?”

In
every
way. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Hope replaced the wariness. “Where?”

He bit the bullet, swallowed down his anticipation, and said calmly enough, “My apartment. It’s only a few doors up the street.”

A blinding smile chased away all her sadness, all her worry. It even lifted his spirits, when damn it, his spirits didn’t need lifting.

“So you really can cook?” she teased.

“Simple stuff. How about chops and baked potatoes?”

“Sounds wonderful. What time?”

In for a penny…“It’d be better if the others didn’t know.”

“I understand. I won’t tell a soul.”

Anxious to reassure him, she took his hand. And even that, the simple action of holding hands, a damn grade school show of affection, felt like advanced foreplay to his already twitchy libido. Her palm was slim and soft and warm, belying the strength he’d seen in her so far.

It was an appealing combination, that strength and softness.
She
was appealing, in far too many ways.

He carefully disengaged their hands. “Six is good. That’ll give you time for your library outing.” He back-stepped toward the door. “You’ll be careful, right?”

“Absolutely. We’ll take a cab, stay together. And the library is in a good part of town.” With a smile, she added, “What can happen at a library?”

When she intended to take several ex-hookers along? Just about anything. “I’ll stop back after you’re finished for the day.”

Shay turned coy. “I could just come to you, since you don’t want anyone to know.”

He discarded that idea immediately. With everything that had happened, he didn’t want her wandering the streets alone—not even the short distance to his brother’s apartment. “That’s okay. I want to come by. I’ve got to admit, I’m curious what books will interest the ladies.” And in the meantime, he’d talk with Chili, see if the little weasel knew anything. He’d tried to get in touch with him a couple of times already, but now that he wanted to see Chili, he seemed to be unavailable.

Shay beamed at him as if he had a halo around his head. “It’s wonderful that you’re so involved with them.”

He wasn’t involved, not really. But Bruce would be and he had to be Bruce. Besides, it wouldn’t be a hardship to visit. They were starting to grow on him, even Patti and her wandering hands.

The events of the day had left Shay looking adorably disheveled. She’d washed her face, but she still had smears of paint on her shirt, and her hair was mussed. Bryan tucked one long, silky lock behind her ear, and admonished, “Be good.”

In her best Morganna impersonation, Shay drawled, “Sugar pie, you’ll like me better when I’m bad.”

Of that, Bryan had no doubt. But he was afraid that in the long run, it wouldn’t matter either way. Good, bad—he just plain liked her. And he wanted her.

Tonight he’d do something about it.

They were all so stupid, not guessing what had happened, acting as if everything was still the same. Or better. What bull.

They deserved what they got.
They did.

Just as she had been deserving. But everything was different now, especially the preacher. He hadn’t been the same since
she
showed up.

She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t scare easily, and she never showed hesitation. She wanted something, and just like that, it happened. She made it happen.

Jealousy bit into her, but so what? She’d been jealous most of her life. But no more. From now on, she’d take her share, and to hell with the others. They didn’t really care about her anyway. They couldn’t.

Could they?

Bryan didn’t know which he enjoyed more—the babbling excitement of the women or the beaming satisfaction and pleasure on Shay’s face.

Morganna couldn’t stop talking—not that her unceasing monologues were anything new. But no one minded this time. She had a “genuine, bona fide, real job,” as she put it. The manager had hired her right on the spot, claiming her enthusiasm, ease with new people, and phenomenal memory would be an asset when she took orders.

Bryan hadn’t realized she had a phenomenal memory, until he thought of all the jokes she recounted every day.

The uniform, according to Morganna, wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She held up the white service dress with a dark blue apron, imprinted with the restaurant’s logo, for Bryan to see. She wanted his opinion.

He grinned and said, “Men like a woman in uniform.”

Laughing, Morganna swatted at him. “Liar!”

“If I get my job,” Patti interjected, “I won’t have a uniform. Shay says I’ll be wearing ‘dress casual,’ whatever that is.”

“I have no idea what it means, either,” Bryan admitted, “but I’m betting Shay does.”

Patti nodded. “She already offered to help. I think the manager liked me. I should know in a few days.”

Bryan watched as she smiled in tremulous hope. No one had entrusted Patti with anything important in too many years to count, but now, thanks to Shay, she’d been given a second chance.

He’d thought about Patti on and off during the day. It had occurred to him that her constant pawing was a type of test. Most men would welcome her advances, even take advantage of her because of her past. But because he dodged her hands without dodging her, he’d earned a measure of friendship.

Seeing the women so happy made him happy, too.

Even Amy, who’d been so reluctant to go, kept smiling shyly. Her job would involve taking inventory for a mechanic. Shay described the owner of the business as a very kind old man. With a dose of cynicism, Amy had quipped that she’d known plenty of old men. But Shay assured her that this old man was different, otherwise she wouldn’t have suggested the job.

Amy trusted her.

They all trusted her, and for women conditioned to caution, that said a lot about Shay.

Bryan watched as she refilled Morganna’s glass of iced tea. Playing the hostess came as naturally to her as playing mother to a bunch of lusty ex-prostitutes.

He’d stayed busy throughout the afternoon. First he’d had the car tires changed, disgusted with the expense and wishing like hell he could find the one responsible for the damage. But at least he had found Chili.

He was only half drunk, but working on it when Bryan waylaid him in an alley. Twenty bucks hadn’t enticed him to talk, so instead Bryan had offered to break his jaw. That got him gabbing real quick, and Bryan had learned some interesting details.

While he’d been busy siphoning information from Chili, Shay had cleaned up the paint and broken glass, because, as she put it, she didn’t want to worry the others unnecessarily. Still, the dent in the wall and the cardboard over the kitchen window couldn’t be missed. But they were all more interested in talking about their job possibilities and the books they’d chosen than the menace that had invaded their current home.

And like a ton of bricks, it hit Bryan.

They were so used to having verbal, physical and not-so-tangible threats in their lives, they were able to blow off anything that didn’t require immediate attention.

Bryan felt a pain, like a fist tightening in his chest, that almost took his breath away. Something too much like empathy and tenderness and caring began expanding inside him—and Bryan looked at each woman with new eyes.

As a bounty hunter, he never wanted to see anyone hurt unless it was some punk-ass criminal and he was the one doing the hurting. That hadn’t changed. He had his own definitions of right and wrong, good and bad, lawful and unlawful. They were ideas he embraced through his work and the constant chase involved in hunting wanted felons. But his attitudes had always been general, not personal. They were peripheral ethics. They didn’t touch the core of him, and they didn’t hurt him.