Keep Her Safe(34)

The rage in her eyes dims the moment they drop from my face. Even with her caramel complexion, I see the flush of color. It’s as if she’s only now realizing that I’m naked. Grabbing a towel from the rack above the toilet, she throws it at me. “Hurry up,” she snaps, spinning on her heels and marching out, leaving the gym bag where it landed.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, my forehead falling hard against the tile.

She’s never going to believe me now.



* * *



“There’s a lot left.” I hold out the box, my feeble attempt at a peace offering as I pass through the adjoining doorway. At least she left the door to her room open.

“I’m good, thanks.” Gracie is perched on the edge of her bed, her fingers nimbly weaving her hair into a braid. It’s twice as long wet as it is dry.

At least she isn’t glaring at me like I pulled the trigger on her father anymore. She won’t even look at me, her focus locked on the wall across from her.

I tear off two slices for myself and then toss the box on the dresser. After more than a week with no appetite, I suddenly can’t seem to fill this nagging hunger. Maybe my body is finally saying enough is enough. That, and I’ve been offered a distraction from my own problems in the form of Gracie’s.

I grab a beer, along with a second one because I noticed the can on her nightstand. I still don’t know how old she is but given what she’s been through, telling her she’s too young to have a few drinks would be stupid on my part.

Setting it on her end table, I opt to take the chair directly across from her instead of sitting on her bed.

The gym bag full of cash makes a thudding sound as I drop it to the floor by my feet.

Then I wait quietly for her to say something, because the hell if I know how to approach this, and she’s impossible to read.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she finally offers, her eyes flickering to me, skittering over my body before snapping back to the wall. Color crawls up her neck. “I have a hard time keeping my temper in check.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t think things through; I jump to conclusions and then I act.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I was angry with you and I just . . . I wasn’t trying to . . .” She’s stumbling over her words.

I didn’t expect this reaction, and it’s all I can do to press my lips together to hide my smile. I’ll gladly let her barge into my shower and scream at me if it means I get this softer, docile version afterward. “Yeah, I’ve noticed the anger issues.”

Awkward silence hangs in the room once again, broken momentarily by the crack of my beer can.

I guess it’s my turn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you about that.” I gesture toward the bag. “I found it last night with a note, asking that I give it to you. Here, see for yourself.” I fish the sheet of paper out from my pocket and hand it to her to read.

She sets her jaw but, after a long pause, I get a small nod of acceptance. “I knew about your mother already,” she admits quietly, taking a sip of her own beer as her penetrating eyes land heavily on me. “That she died. And how she died.”

Her words stir a sharp pang in my chest. “How?” I ask, clearing my voice against the sudden gruffness that comes whenever the topic lands on my mother’s suicide.

“On the news.”

“But you live in Tucson.” Why the hell would my mother’s death get coverage here?

“My mom has an unhealthy obsession with Texas. Especially anything to do with the Austin Police Department.” She stretches out on her bed with her back against the headboard and her long, shapely legs crossed at the ankles. She looks like she’s getting settled in for a long night of talking. “She says someone there framed my dad. She’ll swear up and down that he would never sell drugs.”

Exactly what my mother alluded to.

Dina must know something. But would she have told Gracie?

I do my best to feign ignorance, and hope that Gracie can’t sense the tension coursing through my limbs. “It would be hard to accept that about someone you loved and trusted.” I hesitate. “Why does she think that he was framed?”

“Because she’s a crazy, cracked-out woman? I don’t know.” Gracie snaps off the tab on her beer can and tosses it haphazardly toward the trash can in the corner. “But it’s ruined her life. And mine.”

Either Gracie’s an A-list actress or Dina hasn’t told her anything. “Do you believe he did it?”

“I didn’t. And then I did.” Her gaze shifts to the bag of money, her throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “And now you’ve shown up here with that, and no explanation. So, I’m thinking that he’s guilty of something.” She seems to consider her next words for a long moment. “My mom talks about Jackie a lot.”

“Oh yeah?” I take a big sip of my beer and then coolly ask, “What does she say?” I can already tell I’m not going to like it.

Gracie picks at a piece of thread on the bedcover. “That she was part of my father’s setup.”

“We are bad, bad people.”

I push my mother’s voice out of my head. “Does she have proof?”