Chapter 1

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



“Can I help you?”

Nicole jumped back from the door. She’d idly considered picking the lock, just to go in, just to see. She’d lost her touch, she thought. Not only had he startled her, but he’d been home in the first place. He had gardening tools in his hands, though what they were or what they were used for was lost on her.

“I’m looking for Jason Rossi ... or Gabriel Flynn.”

“I’m Gabriel.”

“I’m Nicole.” She held out a hand, forced it to steady. He was a cop, she reminded herself, having spent the afternoon asking questions and listening to the long, winding answers. Jason’s number was unlisted. All she’d known was the location of his business.

Doughton Woods, South Carolina.

A million miles away from New York City, from their childhood home. And his roommate, cop or not, wasn’t a cop like she was used too. Though he seemed a bit reserved, his eyes were too open, too friendly, his hair long and slightly unkept, as if someone had been running their fingers through it all day.

She took a deep breath, introduced herself.

“Nicole Rossi. Jason’s—”

“Nicole? Jason’s Nicole?” he asked. Nicole lifted her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected anyone in Jason’s life to know who she was. It gave her hope. A little bit of hope. “Man, you couldn’t have ... he’s out of town.”

“Oh—” she swallowed against the disappointment. “Then I ... I’ll have to make plans to come back ... later.”

“Not on your life.” Gabriel stepped passed her, intent on keeping her close. She was a pretty little thing, small, with big brown eyes—serious eyes. There was distrust in them. He expected that. He’d seen it in Jason’s eyes.

He’d always wondered about Jason’s sister, always hoped that Jason would contact her.

Opening the unlocked door, Gabriel ushered her in. “Just wait until Jason hears you’ve looked him up. He’ll be stoked.”

Nicole rolled her eyes behind Gabriel’s back. She hadn’t heard such slang in her neighborhood, not in the last decade, but out here in the country, on the edges of a city, things were quieter, slower. She shivered in distrust.

“Make yourself at home,” Gabriel said, waving a hand across the leather livingroom furniture. “I’ll give Jason a buzz. Let him know you’re home.”

“It’s not necessary. He didn’t know I was coming. If I could leave my phone number—”

“Are you kidding me? Just wait right here.”

Nicole sighed and looked around. What was she afraid of? Hadn’t she come all the way from New York to this sleepy southern town to find Jason, to convince him?

To do so, she would have to see him ... she couldn’t just ask. She had to know, she had to judge carefully. He could be just like their father. He had the money, the wealth, that their father had only dreamed of.

Wasn’t that what she was running from?

Walking around, casing the joint, she thought, she studied the doorways, the windows, and tried to ignore the accessories, the expense he’d obviously put into his entertainment and furniture. She’d known he’d had money by the look of the house on the outside, but she didn’t know how it had come into his possession. He was related to their father wasn’t he? Even rooming with a cop, he could still be ...

A criminal. He could be a criminal. The word was still a hard thing to think, to say. She had been one herself, had been used repeatedly, and had been left to drown on her own.

But Jason had run from that. He’d been able to run from that.

Her eyes were drawn to the series of photographs lining the mantle. Against her will, she migrated to them, frowned over them. She saw her brother, older now, more filled out, surrounded by people—strangers. He’d cut his dark hair short, his shoulders were broad, muscular. And he looked taller, somehow.

She reached out, touched a finger to the glass, touched his face. She could see the restlessness in his eyes, but not the anger. He’d softened ...

He’d left them behind.

Tears took away her breath, but she pushed the back, held them off. Just this once, she promised herself, and forced her eyes to roam. She saw Gabriel, friends and what were probably Gabriel’s family. Small towns, she thought, were notorious for family.

What she didn’t see were copies of her own photos that she kept in inexpensive frames. Her most treasured possession—a picture of Jason at 17, when she was 10 and her little brother was not yet one. An informal picture, it had been snapped right before their mother’s death, before Jason walked out—promising to come back for her, to take them away.

He had not.

She looked around at the front room. He’d decorated in rich furnishings, leather, hardwood, a large entertainment system.

But he hadn’t thought of her.

Or of Dusty.

She’d been wrong. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face him ... and face the refusal that was sure to come.

“I got his voice mail,” Gabriel said as he came back into the room. “No doubt he’ll call me back soon.”

She tried a smile. It trembled uneasilly on her lips. “No doubt. I should go.”

“Let me get you something to drink. You look just about parched.”

“Parched?” she repeated, then shrugged it off. “I shouldn’t. I have something, back ... with my things.”

“But you walked out here,” he pointed out. “You must have.”

“I like to walk. I’m a city girl. I’m used to it.”

“I can give you a lift—”

“No,” she forced the word out, lifted her chin. She had street smarts, and she knew how to use them.

“Your choice,” Gabriel dropped down on the sofa. “You got a place to stay?”

* * *

For Jason, home was refuge, safety. He’d left his past, found his place, hadn’t he?

His headlights were two wide beams over the interstate as a car passed him to his left and he passed a car to his right. For once he didn’t delight in the smooth sound of his engine, or the gliding feel of his car as he picked up speed. The sign from above warned that his exit was a mile away.

How had she found him? What was she doing here? He didn’t like his past sneaking up on him, didn’t want any part of it. He knew what it was like to live in darkness, anger, fear and to nearly die beneath the weight of it all.

He’d survived, been blessed with a new life. He was living now as his mother would have wanted them all to live. He’d earned it though—his degree, his place, his business.

He took the exit a little too fast and had to slow down quickly as he reached the main road. He knew this stretch of the road, loved this stretch of the road. It led him home ... his first home with a yard, with dirt to call his own, out away from everything ... and everyone.

His family shouldn’t be able to upset him now.

Why was he surprised? He’d thought they might look him up one day. He’d been prepared—was prepared—to shrug them off. He had the money now that his father’s greedy eye had been on.

He’d turned into the lane that led to his house and watched as the light appeared between the trees. Gabriel was home, in the living room. The porch light was on, which meant he expected someone.

Was he expecting the girl to come back? An image flashed, of his sister, her big brown eyes so like their mother’s, wearing pigtails, the way he’d last seen her.

She was a woman now—had served time in a women’s penitentiary. There had been a weak moment, a few years back, that he had looked her up ... hoped for ... hoped to bring her out.

But she was already in. To far in.

He pulled into the garage, got out, slammed the door. Opening the back, he pulled out his travel case, and paused. His hands were shaking. He stared down at them, willed the trembling to stop.

Not now, he thought.

Not now.

He closed the door and went inside, set the case down, then followed the sound of the live basketball game in high definition. He grimaced as he entered the room. Gabriel had it on surround sound—a trait he’d picked up from him.

“She say where she was staying?”

Gabriel glanced over, then flicked off the tv. The silence fell long and hard. He studied Jason, his long measuring cop’s eyes. It wasn’t a look he saw often, not anymore.

And he hated that if brought back some of the fear. He squared his shoulders and refused to stare back with the defiant glare he’d learned while on the streets.

“No—she didn’t look like she could afford the B&Bs around here.” Gabriel pushed himself up from the leather recliner and walked passed Jason into the kitchen. “She’s at the Main Street hotel.”

Jason could see it in his head, what the locals called the O-Tell. He pushed the image back.

“She’s probably used to worse.”

Gabriel opened the refrigerator, pulled out a can of coke. “I’ve got Bob looking out for her, if you want to know ... I’ve got a feeling you’re telling yourself you don’t.”

Jason accepted the soda Gabriel handed over. He said nothing.

“She’s a small thing—she’s got big, sad eyes.”

Like his mother’s, he thought, and pushed the thought aside. “She’s related to Joe. She’d know how to play you.”

“She’s related to you. You know how to play just about everyone.”

Jason turned away, walked back into the living room and stopped. He looked around, studied the life he’d built for himself.

“I do it within the law.”

“Recently,” Gabriel muttered, “but you know more about that than I do. I tried to get her to stay with Trish, she wouldn’t—

Jason spun around, narrowed his eyes. “Keep her away from Trisha.”

Gabriel’s lips curved and suddenly the cautious cop look left his eyes. He was just Gabriel again. Jason felt himself relax, and worried over it.

He wondered over to the front window and looked across the lawn toward the woods beyond. He lived on twelve acres of wooded land. It was too dark to see anything, too dark to know, but he did wonder ... was she out there somewhere, watching him? Planning?

“You’re awfully protective of a woman you claim to be just friends with—” Gabriel said as he settled back into his chair. He flipped the game back on, and suddenly Jason was surrounded by the noise of the crowd and the crooning of the commentator. “And you’re awfully sure of the seedy side of a girl you haven’t seen in over a decade.”

Jason turned around, speared his friend with a dark gaze. “She was in prison when I looked her up. She’s not the innocent you want to make her out to be.”

“You didn’t go to prison,” Gabriel reminded Jason as he walked out, “but you’re not the saint you want to be either. Don’t judge her, Jason, for being the one between the two of you to get caught.”

* * *

Nicole set her book down by the bedside and pulled back the covers. She looked between the sheets, then at the coverlet, before she lowered herself into the bed. She reached for the library book, opened to the page she had marked with the stub from her bus ticket.

Her mother had taught her to read, had given her a gift no one ... not even her father could take away from her. She could lose herself, for the moment, in books ... even in non-fiction. She settled in to the words, burrowed her toes into the sheets.

The phone rang and startled her.

She started to ignore it. Only two people from New York knew where she was ... Tony and her probation officer. Neither would be have called this late ...

But it could be Jason. She hadn’t told his roommate where she would be staying, but it wasn’t like there were many choices.

It wasn’t New York.

She picked it up, her heart beating so hard she could feel the pulse in her throat. She swallowed against the fear.

“Hello.”

“Did you see him?”

Her palms turned sweaty. How could he know? How did he know where she was?

“What do you want?”

“Just checking up on my baby girl, that’s all.”

“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him, “you saw to that.”

She hung the phone up and lay back, the lights still on. She stared at the ceiling as she toyed with the corner of her book.

It was a small town, she reminded herself. He could have looked the phone number up online. He hadn’t known her plans, could not have made it down here so quickly. He was still in New York.

She set her book aside and closed her eyes ... but her father’s face followed her into sleep.


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