Authors: Angela Fristoe
Her eyes opened, settling on him, and the sorrow he found in their blue depths made his chest ache.
“Then what does work?”
“Nothing.”
“Both of us know that’s not true,” he said, wondering if she could deny how right it had felt to be pressed against each other, feeding the embers of lust to a degree he’d never experienced before.
“We definitely shouldn’t talk about
that
.” She threw the straw onto the table.
Six weeks before, he would have agreed. Now, though … He knew how she tasted, how snugly she fit into him. As much as he wanted to go back, he couldn’t.
“Maybe that’s
all
we need to talk about.”
Her struggle played across her face in the tightening and relaxing of her lips, the way her cheeks warmed to a soft pink.
“You both good for another?” Keeley stopped at the edge of the table. He hated the escape she provided Cora.
“I’m done,” Cora replied and handed Keeley the cash to cover her tab.
“Put her stuff on my tab,” Gavin said. He didn’t worry about paying, a bonus of being a brother to the owners. He was certain Logan kept track so one day he could collect for some huge ass favor.
Cora looked about to refuse, but changed her mind and gave Keeley a grin. “Then consider it all a tip.”
Keeley rolled her eyes and said, “That only works if I don’t know what you’re getting paid, girl.”
She pulled out a ten and passed the rest back to Cora. Then she turned to Gavin, leaning in and poking him in the chest with a sparkly-blue manicured finger.
“I’m trusting you.”
He didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t need to.
“How are you getting home?” he asked Cora when Keeley had gone.
She kicked up her feet. “These boots were made for walking.”
“Alone at this time of night?”
“Phff. It’s Thompson Creek.”
He thought of the pictures of Sinclair Caleb found on the surveillance cameras. She wasn’t the one Sinclair was after, but her connection to him and his brothers made her a possible target.
“I’ll walk you home.” He stood, looking down at her gaping face.
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s dark and you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. I only had … three Bamamamamas.”
“Yeah, three triples. More than enough. Let’s go.”
Out came the cute little pout. “Fine, but not because you said so.”
She rose and walked to the door, leaving him to pick up the purse she’d forgotten and follow her outside. When he caught up with her, she stopped and spun around to face him.
“You’re really bossy. You can’t tell me what we need to talk about.”
“I merely suggested that maybe we need to talk about what happened today.”
“No. We don’t need to talk about it. That’ll only make me think about it.” She started walking again, only to turn around a few feet away. She stomped toward him. “You made me go the wrong way.”
He held up his hands. “I don’t even know where you live.”
“I know. You don’t know anything about me.” She took her purse from him.
“Not true,” he said, walking beside her. “I know lots of things about you.”
“Okay. Give me the top five Cora facts.”
“Top Cora facts? Is that what you have for me? Top Gavin facts?”
“Five. You pretend you’re a loner, but you really like being with people. Four. You’re super smart, and if you weren’t so determined to waste away, you’d be working at TanTech with Caleb. Three. Your brothers are your best friends, even when you complain about them. Two. You look at me and see everything that went wrong with your life.”
She picked up her pace and he was surprised at how quickly her short legs ate up the distance.
“You forgot one,” he said.
“One. You don’t know anything about me, or the person I am, or what I’ve done.”
He grasped her hand, slowing her until she stopped and glared up at him with defiance that did little to conceal the hurt she attempted to hide beneath it.
“I know you better than you think.” He pressed a finger to her lips when she would have protested. “Five. You are an amazing artist, but don’t have the confidence to pursue it. Four. Your move to Denver was less about the job than about running away.
He tugged her closer and dipped his head down to whisper in her ear. “Three. You love the feel of my breath on your skin.”
She shivered in response and his tongue peeked out to moisten the sensitive spot below her ear.
“Two. You want me.”
He covered her lips with his, and she let his tongue slip inside. The flavor of the Bahama Mamas had lingered, blending with the sweet taste that was Cora. It also served to remind him that she’d had way too much to drink. He broke the contact of their mouths and rested his forehead against hers.
“One. You would do anything for your friends.”
Her hands, which at some point had snuck between them and curled into his shirt, now shoved him away.
“That just proves how you
don’t
know me,” she said. She wobbled a moment before steadying herself and crossed the street. They passed the bookstore and she opened a door in serious need of a new paint job. “This is my place.”
“So which one are you denying?”
“I’m not denying any of them.” She went into the small foyer and glanced back at him. “I would have done anything for Lela. I’d never have done anything to hurt her.”
“I know.”
“Yet, you think I killed her,” she accused.
He stepped up and gripped the sides of the door frame. “I think you made a stupid mistake. Driving drunk—”
She pushed his chest again, cutting him off.
“Well …
screw you,”
she yelled. “I wasn’t driving.”
Her words were a fist to his chest, slamming the air from his lungs.
CORA TRUDGED UP THE narrow staircase, ensuring she kept a firm grasp on the railing as the steps seemed to waver under her feet. When she got to the top, she glanced back down to see Gavin standing frozen in the entryway to the building.
The dim light in the foyer lit up his blond-streaked hair but cast long shadows across his face, concealing his features. She wasn’t certain she wanted to see him. She wanted to sleep until she was strong enough to forget the sensation of his lips on hers.
“Good night, Gavin,” she said and entered her apartment, quietly closing the door behind her.
She made her way across the living room area and flopped onto the couch, exhaustion finally hitting her. What had possessed her to go out? She should have vegged out in front of the TV and caught up on
Criminal Minds
episodes. Now, she was going to suffer the hangover from hell.
Lifting a leg high into the air, she ran her hand along the smooth black leather. She adored those boots. They made her three inches taller and were sexy as hell. She pulled down the zipper and undertook the task of wiggling her foot out. She’d managed to get the left one off when there was a knock on the door. Maybe she would ignore it. Then again, she couldn’t remember locking the door. With one boot still on, she hobbled toward the door.
Gavin didn’t wait for her. He’d flung the door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut before she even made it halfway across the room. A scowl wrinkled her face as she tried forming some sort of reprimand about knocking, but he did knock and she couldn’t come up with anything else.
“What the fuck do you mean, you weren’t driving?” His voice was deceptively soft. She recognized the anger and confusion in his hard eyes. “I came to you. I asked you to explain what happened. You told me you were driving.”
“No.
You
said I was. Forget it. Don’t listen to me. I’m drunk,” she said and stumbled back to the couch.
Why didn’t she listen to Josh when he told her the drinks were deadly?
Her mind and mouth refused to cooperate and work together. She never intended to tell Gavin about the accident, but she been unable to hold it back any longer.
“That’s a bullshit excuse.” He jutted a finger in her direction, and her eyes crossed as she attempted to follow the waving digit. “You were driving that night. Lela wouldn’t drive drunk.”
“But I would?”
That shut him up. She wondered if he realized that if everything he claimed to know about her was true, how could he explain her doing something like that?
Cora tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling tiles tinted yellow with age. They were old and tired. Just like her continued determination to play the villain in Gavin’s mind. She didn’t want to be blamed for something she hadn’t done. She’d made plenty of mistakes that night, but driving drunk wasn’t one of them.
“We were so happy. Four years at college and we were finally done,” Cora said, her lips curling into a smile as the bittersweet memory took over. “We spent the whole evening dancing and drinking. Or I did. Lela knew I hated driving at night, so she only had a couple because she planned to drive back. She wanted you to come so you could drive.”
“I would have gone, but she told me it was a girls' night.”
“Because I didn’t have a date, and she didn’t want me to feel left out" Cora’s head rolled along the back of the couch. “Did you know she couldn’t dance?”
“I knew,” he answered.
“Of course, you did. Dancing was the only thing she couldn’t do perfectly.”
“There were others,” he said. “She just didn’t let it stop her from doing them.”
“Maybe, but that night, she learned to line dance. I taught her the Electric Slide. She said she was going to take you dancing and surprise you.”
She paused and gazed at Gavin. Her stomach heaved, and she really regretted that third drink. Two she could have handled, but the more she drank, the more she talked. This conversation was the prime example. It was a conversation she’d never planned on, but keeping the words trapped inside of her became impossible.
“What happened, Cora?” His voice cracked on her name.
“Right before we hit the bridge, some idiot almost rear-ended us. I got so mad. Lela told me to calm down. She was going to let him pass, but I rolled down my window and gave him the finger.” She squeezed her trembling hands into fists. “He rammed us and Lela lost control.”
Gavin’s fingers plowed through his hair, clenching the ends tightly before he took a deep breath. His mouth gaped as if he couldn’t form all of the questions racing through him.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you’d been driving? That you caused the accident?”
“Because it wouldn’t change anything. I’m still the reason Lela died. The guy hit us because of me. The car filled with water so quickly because I opened my window. Lela drowned because I was too drunk to get her out.”
He didn’t say anything, and she took the silence for agreement. It was hard to argue with those facts.
“I couldn’t even get myself out,” she said.
“What do you mean? They found you on the bank of the river.”
“Someone driving by spotted the car in the water. He pulled me out, but by the time he got to Lela, it was already too late.”
He straightened and moved forward so swiftly; Cora held up a hand, worried she would lose her balance and somehow he would fall on her. Or was it him lose his balance? Either way, he was moving too fast.
He went to his knees before her and gripped her shoulders. Her eyes widened, trying to adjust to the new close-up view of his face.
“What do you mean, someone?” He shook her gently and her head spun at the way his face danced before her eyes.
“Someone. A person.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I passed out after.”
Passed out. The words didn’t accurately describe falling into a two-week coma. If she’d been sober, she might have described it differently, but even the police referred to it as passing out.
“Did you tell the police about any of this? The guy who rammed you? The person who stopped to help?”
“They said I suffered head trauma. That I might not be remembering right. There was nothing they could do even if I were right.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have believed you.”
“Like you believed I’d drive drunk?”
His lips tightened and he let go of her shoulders. An overwhelming sense of sadness filled her.
How could she blame him for believing the worst of her?
She’d let him. She never once challenged him on any detail about the accident.
Lifting a hand, she cupped his face in her palm, in part to connect with him, and partly to stop the back and forth movements his head made.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s gone and you hate me.”
She stood and walked to her bedroom, using the wall to stop her from falling over. There was something seriously wrong with the floor; it slanted to one side. She fell backward on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. She saw Gavin standing in the doorway, watching her.
“I don’t hate you, Cora.”
She wanted to believe him so badly. When he held her in his arms, everything disappeared. Everything except the feel of his hard body and the taste of him. There was no anger or shame, only passion. Yet, those fleeting moments did little to dispel the truth.
“Lela wouldn’t want me to,” he said.
“She used to talk about you all the time. She loved you. Really loved you.” A massive yawn escaped her, and she let her drooping eyelids to close. “I hated listening to her talk about you. I didn’t want to hear. I just wanted to pretend.”
“You should have told me,” he said.
She snorted but didn’t bother opening her eyes. “It’s easier this way.”
“What’s easier?”
“Protecting you.”
Cora talked in her sleep. Nothing coherent, simply a soft mumbling mix of words and phrases that made no sense. Whatever her dreams held, it wasn’t peace.
Gavin pressed his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, attempting to process everything she told him.
How much of it was truth, and how much was the ramblings of a woman who’d had too much?
Her story made sense. It fit with the Cora he knew. So why the hell didn’t she ever told him he was wrong?
God when he thought of all the horrible things he’d said to her; the things he’d thought— He felt sick.
She tried to roll over, but her dangling legs hindered her. He gave a slight smile as he took in the one remaining boot she obviously forgot to remove. He rose and walked to the bedside. After unzipping the boot, he slid it off and tossed it to the corner of the room out of the way.
Staring down at her, he contemplated what to do next. It was obvious he wouldn’t get any more answers from her.
He tugged her up until her head rested on the pillow. He considered putting the covers over her, but that would require him somehow moving her off them first. She was light enough he could easily lift her without waking her, but he decided that bordered on being a creepy invasion of her personal space. Strange thought, considering less than an hour before he had his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass. But she was out of it, and that was a line he didn’t cross.
He went into the living area and scanned the small space. Her place wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected fluffy, colorful furniture, pictures of her family, and a homey atmosphere. This place with its bare walls and simple furnishings lacked the warmth he always associated with her. He found a crocheted quilt folded up on the floor at the end of the couch and picked it up.
After he laid the quilt over Cora, he went to the small kitchenette and poured a glass of water. He gulped the water and rinsed out the glass, leaving it in the sink to dry. With a heavy sigh, he braced his hands on the counter and let his head drop.
He needed a beer or whiskey. Fuck, he’d take anything to block out the echoes of every nasty word he’d said to Cora. Locking the door behind him, he headed back down to the street toward the pub. With every step, he played back the pieces of Cora’s story.
It made sense Lela would be driving that night. The idea of her getting in the car with a drunk driver, or of Cora making the choice to drive drunk, had always been a detail that never meshed with what he knew about either woman.
It was all the new details that didn’t fit.
Who was the other driver? The stranger who stopped to help? Why the hell hadn’t the police done any follow-up?
Fury snapped at Gavin’s control, propelling his body toward survival mode. His muscles contracted and then snapped back, expanding and straining his skin. His eyes darted around, pinpointing minute details, and he inhaled deeply as he instinctively assessed the area for danger.
Yet natural instinct had nothing to do with it. His body’s response to a perceived enemy and the accompanying rage were all by design. The Posthuman Project had made them the perfect soldiers. They blended in with the general population, appearing normal, then transformed into a monster when the enemy neared. Their muscles enlarged, magnifying the superior strength they already possessed. The more uncontrolled they became, the more pronounced the physical changes were.
He slammed his fist into the brick wall of the building he’d stopped beside. The brick crumbled around his knuckles, and he pulled back to shake off the dust. The force of the impact would have broken the bones of a normal human, yet the mild stinging Gavin experienced was merely an annoyance and did little to relieve his frustration. Yet, it gave him a moment’s pause to pull himself back from the brink.
He dragged in another slow breath and let his senses reassure him of the absence of danger. He reined in the anger prodding at him and focused his thoughts back on Cora.
She claimed she reported everything to the police, but he read the reports months before, and there’d been nothing in there about another car or anyone rendering aide. Even if they doubted every word she said, there should have been some mention of her version in the file.
A block from the bar, he pulled out his cell and dialed Noah’s number.
“Did you know?” Gavin asked when his brother answered.
“Gavin? I can’t hear you. Let me go outside.” There was a pause as Noah exited the bar. “What’s up?”
“Did you know?”
“About what?”
“Did you know Cora wasn’t driving the night of the accident?”
Gavin heard Noah sighing on the other end of the line, and he wanted to reach through and rip his brother’s heart out.
“How long have you known?” He gritted his teeth as adrenaline tensed his muscles. The urge to succumb to the monster festered within him.
“Since she came out of the coma. I listened to her give her statement.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have mattered? And don’t just say yes. Think about it. You were so angry at the world afterward. You wanted someone to blame. You
needed
to blame someone. Some faceless stranger wasn’t going to cut it. You wanted to see the guilt. So, Cora let that be her.”