Your To Take - Connaghers 03 (2 page)

Now that she’d started her own business, she was still too
busy, and he certainly hadn’t bothered to come by
.
“I need you to run a
name through your database.”

“Vik,” he drawled out his nickname for her in that low, sexy
voice that always made her want to throw her head back and moan deep in her
throat. “I thought you quit defending assholes I put away.”

“I did.” She refused to allow her tone to sharpen
defensively. “I need a background run on somebody and you’re the only person in
the Dallas PD who’ll still take my calls.”

He let out a low grunt of agreement. “What’s the name?”

“Jesse Dean Inglemarre.”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

She heard him typing. He must be at work and already looking
up the data for her. Who was she kidding—Elias was always at work. “Any
warrants, recent arrests, known gang affiliation. Standard stuff.”

“Got a soc?”

“Nope, but I know he’s twenty-five years old.”

A few moments went by. She didn’t hear any voices. Usually
his office was loud and rowdy at any hour. The war on drugs never slept.

“Looks like your boy last got in trouble five years ago, but
nothing recent. No known address. How do you know him?”

“He’s a street artist.” She tried to keep her tone casual
and strictly to the truth. Elias could sniff out a lie quicker than a
bloodhound. “I used to see him when I worked at Wagner & Leeman. Thanks,
Elias. I hope you’re not out in this snow tonight.”

“Not so fast, Vik.”

Mentally, she groaned. He always was too damned smart for
his own good, which meant he was a fine cop who always suspected the worst in
people. Unfortunately, he was almost always right.

“Why the sudden interest in a homeless street artist in the
middle of a snow storm? Surely you’re not thinking about letting this punk into
your home.”

“Thanks,” she said firmly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Fuck.” In her mind, she could see him at his desk, jumping
to his feet and raking his hand through his hair. “You did. You invited this
asshole into your home. Are you insane? He’s a druggie. A scumbag. You know
they can never come clean. Give them a ten and they’ll buy a hit instead of
food.”

“He’s not like that.” She used her softest voice, trying to
calm him down before he decided to get on his white horse and charge over here
like a knight in shining armor. “He just needs a little help.”

“Jesus, Vik, does he have any weapons? Did he bring drugs
into your house?”

“No!”
Although I didn’t think to check.
“I can handle
this, Reyes.” Deliberately, she emphasized his cop name, the cold and formal
relationship they’d used at their jobs even when they shared a bed once in a
while. “I don’t want you to interfere.”

“You should have thought of that before you invited a
homeless junkie to spend the night!”

“I have my phone right here and you’re on speed dial. I
promise I’ll call you if I get even a hint of a weird vibe from him, but he’s
barely more than a kid, Elias. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You’re damned right he’s not.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“He’s not a kid, Vik, even if he looks helpless and innocent
to you. He hasn’t been a kid in a long time. One of his raps was for
prostitution when he was barely sixteen. Yeah, he must be a real pretty boy,
huh? I’m surprised he came on to you. Seems like a rich queer is more up his
alley.”

The thought of Jesse’s brilliant eyes scrunched up with pain
or staring up at a jerk forcing him to give a blowjob made her knees quiver
hard enough that she had to sit on a barstool. She’d known he must have had a
hard life, but the reality made her stomach heave. “He didn’t come on to me.”

“Maybe he’ll come on to me, then.”

“He’s not like that.” Her voice quivered, betraying her. She
clenched her jaws a moment, concentrating on retrieving that calm, cool
exterior she’d learned as a defense attorney. “I saw him in the snow and
cold—he was helping me because I fell on the ice!—and I couldn’t leave him out
there.”

“If you used to see him over at the park near Wagner &
Leeman, then why the hell was he way out by your place? He was staking you out,
Vik. He knew exactly what he was doing when he just happened to walk by. I bet
he seemed real shocked to find you, didn’t he? They’re damned good actors when
they need to be.”

Torn between outrage and concern, she tried to remember if
she’d ever told Jesse where she lived. Would he really come dozens of blocks in
the cold to give her a birthday card? Surely, he couldn’t have pretended that
much surprise when she asked him to come inside. She was a good judge of
character. She’d seen more than her share of bad guys willing to sell their
mamas if it would get them out of prison.

“Jesse’s not like that. He’s not one of the bad guys, Elias.
I can see it in his eyes. He needs someone to give him a break.”

Wheels screeched on the street below so loudly that she
jumped up and ran to the window. Elias jumped out of his truck and stormed up
to the door of her building. “I’ll give him a break. I’ll break his fucking arm
if he even lays a finger on you.”

She glared down at him, whether he could actually see her or
not. “I told you I could handle this!”

“Let me in, Vik, or I’m going to owe you a new door.”

Elias heard her shouting at him as she ran down the stairs,
but he didn’t stop. He threw open the door to the rear living quarters, grabbed
the invader, and slammed him face-first against the wall with a satisfying
crunch.

The kid didn’t put up a fight.
Man
, Elias reminded
himself. Not a kid, no matter how scrawny and slender he was, not at
twenty-five years of age.

Vicki screamed, a high, shrill wail like nothing he’d ever
heard from her. “Jesse!”

Her terrified voice pierced through Elias’s rage. As a kid
huddled in a narrow bed with his younger brothers and sisters while his crazy
father beat the shit out of his mother, he’d sworn to never make a woman scream
like that. He slapped cuffs on the man and forced himself to ease off. He had
to be the cop in this, not the enraged, jealous, overprotective—and almost
always absent—lover.

The junkie stayed against the wall, legs automatically
spread. He knew the drill all too well.

“You don’t smell like a bum, so I guess you’ve already taken
advantage of your hostess’s hot water. Do you have anything stashed in these
nice clean pockets?”

“No, sir.”

Damn it, he even sounded like a kid, his voice breathless
and shaking with fear. Elias twisted his lips into a furious snarl. The punk
was afraid of being caught. Afraid of being thrown in jail instead of enjoying
a nice cushy night under Vicki’s roof, stealing everything not locked down
while she slept.

She stepped between them, her face white and her mouth tight
with strain. “I gave him those pants. How dare you come in here and throw him
around like this? He’s hurt! Look at him, Elias, he’s bleeding!”

Crying, she cradled the jerk’s face in her hands and wiped
the blood from his split lip with a tissue snatched from the bedside table.
“Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d come over like this. I didn’t know
he’d hurt you.”

“It’s okay. He’s protecting you. I’ve had much worse done to
me.”

The nicer he acted—pretended to be!—the worse Elias felt,
which pissed him off even more. He grabbed the ratty duffel bag lying at the
foot of the bed and dumped it out, using an ink pen to separate items so he
didn’t get poked by a dirty needle. “Any weapons? Drugs? Paraphernalia?”

“No, sir. Just my straight-edge razor. I’ve used it as
protection a few times, but no knives or guns. I haven’t touched drugs in five
years. I’ll take a drug test right this minute if you order it.”

Elias flipped open a small wooden case, but all it contained
was tiny whittled down pencils and precious little nubs of chalk, so used up
that a normal person—with money—would have thrown them out and replaced them
long ago. Feeling more and more like a heel, he methodically emptied the
pockets of everything. Wadded up small bills littered the bed. A five in each
denim pocket, a twenty in the threadbare shirt, several more bills tucked into
the rolled socks, but certainly no nice wad of cash that a dealer would carry.
Spreading the bills out across the meager belongings would make it more
difficult to steal his precious savings.

“I have a hundred dollar bill in each boot hidden beneath
the insole.” Jesse leaned against the wall as though the entire building would
crumble around them without his weight propping it up. The pants sagged low on
his slim hips, and he didn’t have on a shirt. Bones moved beneath his skin in
sharp, painful relief. The kid was half-starved and malnourished. In despair,
he hung his head, his streaked golden-brown hair falling down to hide his face.
“Took me a year to save that much because the punks on the street keep stealing
it. They know I don’t have a weapon.”

Elias knew the answer, but he wanted to see how many lies
the kid might weave. “How do you know Vicki?”

“She used to come to Highland Park where I hang out. When
she quit coming, I asked one of her friends what had happened. I missed her,
and I wanted to make sure she was okay. She was always nice to me, but I never
thought she’d help me like this.”

“Get these cuffs off him,” Vicki said in a deceptively
pleasant voice that sent shards of ice skittering down his spine. This was the
defense attorney, not a woman who’d called him to check out a friend. “He
answered your questions satisfactorily and you have nothing to charge him with.
He’s not trespassing and he’s not a danger to me or himself.”

When he hesitated, she narrowed those glittering dark eyes
on him and lowered her chin, preparing for the charge. “I might not work for
Leeman any longer, but I’ll have him crawling in every orifice you’ve got
unless you release Jesse immediately.”

Chapter Two

Uneasy and tense with the other man sitting beside him at
the breakfast bar, Jesse took a sip of the cocoa she’d made and all his nerves
simply melted away. Vicki hid a smile behind her cup.

Even Elias’s mood seemed to sweeten with each sip of
chocolaty warm goodness, although he grumbled as she poured fresh coffee into
her mug. “Why you insist on ruining good hot chocolate with coffee is beyond
me.”

“I don’t understand how you can work twenty-hour days
without spiking your drink with extra caffeine every chance you get. If you two
can enjoy your cocoa without killing each other, I need to start the
cornbread.”

Jesse peeked up at her, a quick, furtive glance through his
tumbled hair. He’d always worn it pulled back in a ponytail. She’d never
realized that his hair was more blond than brown. All tumbled and loose about
his face, his hair set his stunning turquoise eyes off to perfection. With his
full, luscious lips and strong jaw, he could have been a GQ model, not a
homeless junkie selling himself on the street corner.

What happened to you, Jesse?

Blinking back tears, she retrieved the eggs and milk from
the fridge and the cornmeal from the pantry. When she lugged out the iron
skillet and melted butter, Elias dared a question. “Don’t you use a mix?”

“Hell no,” she retorted in mock outrage. “No Southerner
worth her salt would serve cornbread made out of a box or cook it in anything
but an iron skillet. You can’t get the nice crusty edges without it, and the
box mixes are too sweet.”

“I suppose you don’t put ketchup in your chili either.”

She pressed her hand to her heart and pretended faintness.
“Never. Surely I’ve made chili for you before, haven’t I? Good Texas chili
should be more meat than beans, with a beer thrown in for good measure.”

Shutting the oven door on the batter-filled skillet, she
straightened and caught a look on Jesse’s face that knocked her back on her
heels. A bit of accusation, followed by resignation. Maybe she hadn’t been hard
enough on Elias after he’d busted in like a crazed jerk.
Or maybe my young
friend harbors feelings for me that I never allowed myself to consider.

She swallowed hard at the memory of Jesse’s arms around her,
his low murmurs in her ear while she’d sobbed like a baby.

Jesse studied the bottom of his cup like he was surprised
he’d found it so quickly. “How long have you known each other?”

Taking the hint, she poured him another cup of cocoa. “Oh,
let’s see. I worked at Wagner & Leeman about seven years, counting my time
as an intern. How long have you been on the DPD, Detective Reyes?”

“Fifteen years,” Elias replied, his mouth down turned in a
frown. “Long, hard years, especially when dealing with an annoyingly talented
defense attorney who managed to get off just about every drug dealer in the
city.”

She turned back to the stove and kept her mouth shut. She
refused to give him the pleasure of arguing yet again, but she dumped in more—a
lot more—cayenne pepper. She loved spicy chili, but Elias would probably be up
all night moaning about his stomach.

“I still didn’t really know Vik until the last year or so.
Some weeks she tolerates me more than others.”

Which was a piss-poor way of saying they were off again, on
again lovers, whenever he could drag himself away from those drug dealers he
blamed her for being back out on the street. Even though she’d quit the firm
months ago.

“How long have you been on the street?”

She couldn’t help but stiffen with interest and alarm both,
although she didn’t turn around to see how Jesse took the other man’s question.
Long moments went by before he answered.

“I left home when I was fifteen, a proud, stupid kid who
thought I knew better than my old man. He was a washed-up, wannabe country
singer doing bars in Nashville, trying to catch a break, and I thought he was a
mean bastard. I hung with the wrong crowd, made some bad decisions, dropped out
of school, got arrested for shoplifting, drugs, you name it.”

Vicki turned so she could see his face. He smiled, a
strange, beautiful twist of his mouth that made her want to cry for him.

He dropped his gaze to his hands wrapped around his cup.
“When you’re young and stupid, you don’t think the bad stuff could ever
possibly happen to you. You can drink and drive and not get caught, certainly
never wreck your car or hurt anyone else. You can go to class or your job high
and no one will ever know. You can walk out on your old man, call him every
name in the book, and laugh when you find out the mean SOB died of a heart
attack. Then you realize that you were the only one stupid enough to buy your
bullshit, and the only person left in the whole world who ever cared about you
is gone.”

She couldn’t help but take his trembling hand in hers. He
clung to her but didn’t look up.

“I’ve done bad things. I’ve seen and lived worse. I’ve tried
to leave those things behind, but they aren’t as easy to wash off as the dirt.”

“There are shelters…” Elias began in a gentle voice, but
Jesse only shook his head on a harsh laugh.

“I’d rather go back to prison. At least then I’d know the
man raping me would protect me in the yard tomorrow.” He raised his head, his
eyes pleading for understanding. “When I got out of prison, I was clean and I’d
earned my GED while behind bars. I had two minimum-wage jobs and I gladly
worked my ass off. I had an apartment—wasn’t much and I paid by the week, but it
was mine. I could lock the door and sleep almost through the night without
waking up, terrified that someone was coming in.

“But then I got sick. Just the flu, but as soon as I missed
a day of work, they fired me. I didn’t have much money saved, and I lost my
apartment as soon as I missed the first week’s rent. I didn’t have any place to
go, no family left, no one to take me in but the drug dealers I’d known before
jail.

“I could have gone back to running drugs for them, selling
on the corners and in the schools, but I didn’t. It would have been a hell of a
lot easier. I live on what I earn with my art, drug-free and legal, but once
you lose everything, it’s hard to get people to see you. If I walk in for an
interview in the only decent pair of jeans I’ve got left, it won’t matter if I
shaved or if my fingernails are clean, because I still stink of the streets.”

Vicki didn’t realize she was crying until Elias slipped an
arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. Jesse loosened his fingers
on her hand, but she gripped him tighter, refusing to let him go. “See?” She
buried her face against Elias’s shirt, hating for anyone to see her so
vulnerable. “See why I had to help him?”

“I know,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “You were right.
I apologize, Jesse, for slamming you up against the wall like that. I should
have trusted her judgment.”

“You saw me.
Me
,” Jesse whispered, but his voice rang
with intent. “You’ve already given me a chance to get a real job by letting me
take a shower. I look like a normal, decent person, someone who can get a job,
and for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re going to stay here.” Wiping her eyes, Vicki
straightened and shot a firm glare at Elias, silencing whatever arguments he
might throw at her. “I’ll help you find a job and get back on your feet. No
matter how long it takes, you won’t end up on the street again. Do you hear
me?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Jesse’s lips and he ducked
his head, as though tipping his hat to her. “Yes’m.”

“If something happens to you again, if you’re ever out
there, lost, alone, then you call
me
.” Her voice broke but she didn’t
soften her stance. She leaned across the counter, squeezing his hand to make
sure he met her gaze. “Call me. Anytime. Anywhere. Reverse the charges. Mail me
a letter. Whatever it takes. I’ll come get you and bring you home. You can
count on me to be there for you.”

His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, crystal jewels in spring
water. “You…I…” He bowed his head, shoulders shaking. His tears fell on the
back of her hand still gripping his. Raggedly, he whispered, “I’ve never had a
real home.”

“You can always come home to me.”

Elias had never seen Vicki’s nurturing side, not like this.
Bemused, he watched her stuff the kid full of chili and cornbread until he
could barely keep his eyes open. She practically tucked him into bed, making
sure he had a dozen blankets before sending him downstairs. “If you need
anything, just buzz the door. I’m going to arm the security system on the
entire building before I head to bed.”

Mumbling his thanks, Jesse headed down the stairs to the
lower apartment. When he paused and looked back up at her like she was the most
beautiful angel he’d ever seen in his life, Elias put his arm around her and
drew her into his side.

“Good night, Jesse,” he said firmly, staking his claim on
her. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Shrugging off his arm, she pulled away and shut the door.
“That was cruel.”

“He needs to know that you’re taken.”

“By who?” She marched into the kitchen and attacked the
dishes like they’d shot her mama. Elias had met Mrs. Connagher, and that would
be a feat indeed. “I haven’t seen you in at least three months. If I hadn’t
called you tonight…”

“I was on my way over.” He refused to admit just how many
nights he’d been sitting outside her apartment, keeping watch, supposedly, but
mostly trying to convince his pride to bend just a little. “That’s why I got
here so fast.”

“So now you’re psychic? You felt the subtle forces of the
universe warning that another male was encroaching on your territory?”

He loaded the dishwasher for her, although she kept
rearranging things to her satisfaction. “You know how crazy my job is. I
haven’t slept in a week.”

“I know,” she said quietly, but her eyes snapped with dark
fire. “I know that you have an important, demanding, extremely dangerous job on
which this entire city depends. I’ve never bitched about you being a cop and
you know it.”

“But—”

She threw up a hand holding a sudsy ladle and shook it at
him like a weapon. “There’s a difference between being dedicated to your job
and totally neglecting the people who care about you. You haven’t been
here
,
spiritually or mentally, let alone physically, in months. You haven’t called
me. You haven’t stopped by for a five-minute cup of coffee. You haven’t given
me a hug and kiss on your way downtown. You didn’t even send me a card on my
birthday.”

He winced.
Damn, I knew I forgot something.

“I’ve been going through a major, life-changing event alone
without even a warm body to hold on to at night, a trusted ear to whisper my
fears and doubts, a shoulder to cry on. I quit my job, left all my friends and
my career, to open up my own business. I’m putting in as many hours as you so I
can launch my line next month. You can’t be bothered to even stop by for a
quickie in between jailing bad guys, but a homeless guy who barely knows my
name worried enough about me to track me down simply to say hello in the worst
storm in years. Oh, and he had a birthday card for me, one he’d made with his
own hands. And what do you do? You bust open his mouth and threaten to break
his arm.”

“He could have hurt you, Vik. I was perfectly justified in
searching his things.”

“Sure.” She nodded pleasantly and walked toward the bedroom,
flipping off lights as she went except for a lamp in the living room. “But you
didn’t have to hurt him to make your point. It makes me sick to think about how
many people have physically hurt him over the years, and the man I care about
is now one of them.”

Elias didn’t want to piss her off, but he was determined to
get the truth laid out. “He thinks he loves you. I saw the way he looked at
you. Now that you’re so determined to save him, he’ll only love you more.”

She rummaged in her closet and pulled out a stack of
blankets and a pillow. “Why on earth would you think that?”

How many fucking blankets did the kid need? Damn it, seeing
her bed, remembering the last time he’d held her, made him as hard as a rock.
He’d been aching ever since he’d laid eyes on her tonight. Watching her pet
that kid’s hand and take such good care of him had only reminded him how long
it’d been since he’d been on the receiving end of her affection.

“Are your spidey, super-cop senses blaring again? Because he
still doesn’t even know my full name. How could he possibly love me?”

“You’re gorgeous, Vik, and too tenderhearted for your own
good, even when you try to act mean and tough. How could he not love you?”

Facing him, she curved her lips into a slow, wide smile that
made him think uncomfortably of sharks. “So if I’m following your argument, you
must love me too. Right? Do you love me, Elias?”

His mouth went dry, his tongue swelled into a thick wad of
cotton, and his stomach churned on that brutal chili she’d made. God, he hated
it when she did that—leading him right into the trap she’d laid for him, just
like he was on the stand and she needed to disprove his credibility.

His hackles rose. “Are you sure you don’t have ice water
running in your veins? No wonder those bastards at your law office loved you so
much. Vicki Connagher can get anybody out of jail, no questions asked.”

She shoved the blankets into his arms and slammed the
bedroom door in his face. “I love you too, Elias.”

You can always come home to me.

Jesse had never dared to let the dream play out in his mind,
that she might take him into her home, family and life. That she’d fight for
him, stand up to her boyfriend for his sake, or drop whatever she was doing and
come help him, no matter where he might be. He’d thought it impossible for him
to ever belong anywhere, let alone with—and to—her.