Reaper's Stand(36)

Not so much, but I decided not to go there.

“Maybe. Hey, I was just going through some of her laundry and I found something strange. I thought I might ask you about it.”

“What?” Mellie asked, her voice cautious. I smelled a secret. Excellent. Now I just needed to get it out of her, which shouldn’t be too hard. Mellie never lied directly, only by omission.

“A note, along with a hundred-dollar bill. It’s from a man, making arrangements to get together with Jess downtown somewhere. Do you know of anyone she was seeing? Someone who would have a hundred bucks to spare?”


Mellie didn’t answer immediately, so I waited, letting the silence grow between us.

“I don’t know his name,” she said finally. “I mean, I know he’s older, but I don’t know any more than that. She said he was her sugar daddy. Said he took care of her.”

I sighed. “And you didn’t think that was relevant information to share with me when she went missing?”

“I didn’t want to get her in trouble,” Mellie replied, her voice miserable. “I knew how pissed you’d be, and I don’t think he had anything to do with her taking off. It’s not like he’s dangerous or anything—not like those bikers she hooked up with. She says he’s really good to her. And they didn’t start sleeping together until after she turned eighteen, at least not that I know of. She says he respects her.”

“Okay,” I said softly. I felt like I should press her for more information, but what was the point? God, this sucked. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Sorry,” Mellie whispered. “Hey, Loni?”

“Yes?”

“Can I come over to your place sometime? I sort of miss hanging out with you.”

“Sure, sweetie,” I told her, feeling my eyes start to water a little. “You’re always welcome here, okay?”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “You know how it is …”

“Yeah, baby, I know how it is. You’re safe here. Always. Just because Jessica left doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome.”

“Thanks, Loni.”

I hung up the phone and flopped back on the couch, wondering how I’d gotten to such a strange place in my life. I’d dumped my husband for Jess, and now Jess had dumped me for Amber. Then I dumped Nate.

I wouldn’t dump Mellie, I decided.

No matter what happened, she was a sweet kid and she needed all the support she could get. I wouldn’t fail her like I’d failed Amber and Jessica.

And yes, I know it was insane to think I failed them—you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving. Didn’t change how I felt.

The buzzer went off on the washer, reminding me that I had more clothes to push through. I needed to hit the grocery store for Reese, too. I’d go out to his place early, I decided. That way I wouldn’t have to see him, because despite my bold resolutions I wasn’t quite ready to confront him just yet.

I’d been through enough in the past twenty-four hours.

Reese’s motorcycle sat out in front of his house when I pulled up, along with his truck and a sporty little red convertible.

A Miata. My Miata. I seriously considered keying the car out of pure jealousy.

Make that jealousy and frustration, because not only had I failed to avoid Reese, he apparently had company. Best not to think about whoever might be driving that pretty little car, either, because I’d bet my morning ice cream it wasn’t one of his club brothers.

I sat in the driveway and pondered just turning my van around and leaving, then decided that would be pure cowardice. I’d run into him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. It would be good for me to see him with another woman, I decided. I’d nearly slept with him the other night, and while I’d decided to break up with Nate, that didn’t automatically mean hooking up with Reese was a smart idea.

It could never be more than random sex anyway. Nothing underscores the temporary nature of a booty call like seeing your intended booty calling on someone else.

You’re here to work. What he does is his business.

I turned off my van, grabbed the groceries, and started toward the door. Balancing the bags gracelessly, I punched in the code and pushed through to find myself face-to-ass with the owner of the Miata.

She straddled Reese on the couch, her miniskirt pushed up around her waist, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination—my own personal porno, front and center. Holy. Shit. I couldn’t breathe. His gaze met mine over her head, and I managed to clear my throat. She froze, twisting around to see me.

Awkward.

“Thought you were coming later,” Reese drawled, wrapping his big hands around her waist and holding her steady. His eyes were cold and hostile, although a mocking smile graced his face. He was still angry. Fair enough. We hadn’t exactly ended things on a positive note back at my place. Miss Miata buried her head in his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back a fit of giggles. God, had he told her about me? Did they laugh together at how stupid I’d been, getting drunk and throwing myself at him?

Don’t panic. DON’T PANIC.

I panicked. I felt the grocery bags starting to slip, so I tightened my grip and forced myself to inhale slowly. Exhale.

Think of calm things. Oceans. Clean ovens. Don’t let him see how this hurts you.