Shady Lady (Corine Solomon #3)

To my vast relief, he answered, his voice weary and tight. “Yeah?”

Looks like Escobar moves fast.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Me who?”

Was he being funny? “It’s Corine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Did the lieutenant spring you and Shannon?”

Frost turned his tone icicle sharp. “If this is a prank, it’s not funny. You have information on an investigation that you shouldn’t possess. As for Shannon, you leave her the hell alone. She’s a good kid, and she’s been through enough.”

No. Oh, no. Dread built inside me. I’d never worked that spell before. Just like the lucky penny, I gave it too much power. Stupid untaught witch.

“Can I speak to her?”

Surely Shan remembers me. We’re besties.

He muted the call for a few seconds, and then came back on the line. “She doesn’t know any Corine. Look, lady, I’ve got your number now. If you bother either of us again, I’ll take it badly.”

And he hung up. I was left standing in the dark with a dead phone in my hand. Shaking set in. Maybe it’s not permanent. Maybe they’ll remember me in time. It’ll wear off. Other people will talk about me and prompt their recollections. I hope. Tears filled my eyes, even easier this time since the baby had opened the floodgates. I didn’t get to tell her the name of our shop. Spooky Vintage. I leaned against the solid wall just outside the doors and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to contain the reaction. Stupidly, I felt as if they’d both died.

But maybe I deserved this. Maybe it was a punishment for what I’d done to survive. If I lived, I had to pay for it, so the universe removed the truly good people from my sphere of influence. The wound swelled within me in a scream I couldn’t let out. Salt stung my cheeks and my nose started to run.

Not Jesse. Not Shannon. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, hoping the external pain would balance the devastation within. As I fought for composure, the nearby hospital doors swished open and footfalls pounded toward the parking lot. It wasn’t until they slowed and then angled my way that I opened my eyes.

Chance. Well, of course he wouldn’t be able to resist an opportunity to tell me how well he was doing. By comparison, I’d lost my best friend, seen murder done, and been wearing the same clothes for three days. The breaks always swung his way. Maybe he’d even show me a picture of his new woman, and ask if we could be friends. I braced for salt in the wound.

Instead of such a gambit, he stopped before me and stood silent. Gazing. Even in the poor light, he was unearthly in his beauty: angular features, sculpted mouth, and almond eyes shining cat-gold. He never had five-o’clock shadow, not even at midnight. Why had I never noticed that before, or the faint sheen of his skin? In the moonlight, he didn’t look quite human. I’d always just felt grubby by comparison and never wondered why.

“You look tired,” he said. “Lovely, but tired.”

I didn’t. Not lovely. I could believe tired.

I spoke in staccato bursts, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “You got here quick. The baby’s beautiful.”

“I was already on the way.”

I raised a brow. “Did you have a premonition?”

The dream I’d had in the trailer came back to me, an odd echo. Maybe that was something my mother could do, those true dreams. I wondered if she could control them. Not for the first time, I wished I could ask her—so many things.

“No. Look, can we go somewhere? Talk?”

“I passed a park on the way here.” Even if I had a hotel room, I wouldn’t take him there. I probably lacked the energy for this, but at least it was a distraction from my latest fuckup. What a cherry-topped disaster that forget spell turned out to be.

You lost your best friend, and your boyfriend. Had him for less than a week. That must be some kind of record.

“Which one’s yours?” Chance asked.

“The El Camino. You still driving the Mustang?”

He nodded. “I’ll stay close.”

“I’ll watch the stoplights between here and there. It’s not far.”

That said it all. At least the exchange had dried up my tears; I didn’t want Chance thinking I was pathetic. I drove with an eye on my rearview mirror, making sure I didn’t lose him. My heart twisted, because I knew what he wanted—some job done or a reading as a favor. In the latter part of our relationship, that comprised the sum total of our emotional exchanges. This time, though, this time I’d say no. I owed him nothing, and he was square with me. I wanted it to stay that way.

But I’d hear him out for old times’ sake, mostly because I couldn’t face being alone just yet. Otherwise, I’d have to think about all I’d lost: my home, Señor Alvarez, Shannon, Jesse, Kel. The damage was incalculable. Impossible. Unbearable.

No. I’d handle it. I always did.

It was a small park, well kept, with benches, a water fountain, and a playground. More important, it had security lights. We should be safe enough here. But I could stop looking over my shoulder, more or less. Or at least dial the paranoia down to normal levels. I’d walked through fire and come out different, darker, on the other side.

I parked beneath a lamp and set Butch down. Using a nearby water fountain, I filled the dog’s collapsible dish and gave him a drink. He expressed his appreciation with a wag of his tail and then set off to explore.

Chance pulled in only a minute behind me, and strode up the walk toward where I sat idly swinging. The wind smelled of distant mesquite, as if someone in a nearby neighborhood might be barbecueing in his backyard. The simple goodness made me ache. He took the swing beside me, but didn’t push off. His fingers were long and elegant wrapped around the chains.

“The reason I’m here so fast is because I was already on my way to see you.”

I smiled. “Sure. What’s the job?”

“No job.”

“What do you want me to handle?”

If I hadn’t been watching so closely, I would’ve missed his faint flinch. “Nothing. For the first couple of weeks after I left Kilmer, I was so mad at you. Here I’d broken my back begging for a second chance and it wasn’t enough.”

“I got that by the way you drove off without saying good-bye.” And by the way he’d FedExed all my Travis McGee books back to me without even a note. Those were nothing but ash now.

“But gradually, I started thinking about what you’d said and it sank in. My mom helped to explain it,” he admitted.

“How is she?”

“She’s fine. Thinking about opening a second store.”

“It’s doing that well?”

“Homeopathy is hot. People are reluctant to go to a doctor these days because it starts never-ending appointments and expenses. Times are tough.”

“I know. You were saying?” I prompted.

“I realized it’s not fair to expect you to give up everything for me. If we try again, it has to be about what we want. And if you don’t care to live in Tampa, if that brings back too many bad memories or makes you feel like you’re doing all the giving, then I have to make a change.” He flattened his hands on his knees and gazed out over the grass, where Butch had cornered something small and furry. “I called in all my loans. Everything owed me has now been paid. I also hired a guy to help my mom with the store. She doesn’t know it, but he’s also protection for her, since . . . Well, you know. Just in case.”

The certainty in his voice hit me like a fist. He was driving across country, intending to join me in Mexico City, when Chuch told him about the baby? Talk about a leap of faith.

I exhaled shakily. “Why didn’t you call me? Not once. Not in six months.”

Funny. Chance never wondered how I’d feel about his grand gesture. He just assumed I’d welcome him with open arms after a long silence and a bitter parting. No need to discuss anything with me, because I’d always be his for the taking. He still didn’t understand that I needed a full partnership . . . but this was forward progress, at least.

Now I had to decide if it was enough.

“I didn’t want you thinking this was more of my bullshit promises,” he said quietly. “You wanted action, right? Here it is.”

Low, almost desperate laughter burst out of me. “We’re like that couple in the story. At Christmas, she cuts off her long hair and sells it to buy him a chain for his pocket watch. He sells his watch to buy her pretty gold combs for her hair.”

“ ‘The Gift of the Magi,’ ” he said, frowning. “The moral of that story was that it didn’t matter because they had love. Somehow I don’t think that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Not exactly. See, my shop’s gone, Chance, and now so’s your business. Neither of us has anything.”

He froze, studying my face. “I thought you were here because of the baby, but . . . you’re not. At least, not entirely.”

“Hardly. Montoya kept me busy.”

Chance swore in a mixture of English and Korean and then slid off the swing to kneel before me. “What happened? What can I do?”

“Nothing. I took care of it.” With Paolo’s help I had. Yeah, I served as bait in Escobar’s trap, but I’d proven myself more dangerous than anyone expected, using Dumah as my finishing move. “He won’t bother Min—or anyone—again.”

Something like fear flickered in Chance’s face, as if he didn’t quite recognize me. But he didn’t back off. Instead he took my hands in his; as always they felt warm in comparison to mine. Not fever-hot like Kel, nor with Jesse’s safe heat. But familiar and precious, nonetheless.

I expected him to ask why I hadn’t called him for help. He didn’t.

“I suppose there’s no point in asking. Done is done. I want you to know, I understand now. . . . I did you a disservice by not realizing you aren’t the same woman, and if I want to be with you, then I need to—borrowing my mother’s expression—court you properly. There are no guarantees, but you wanted proof that I’m not all talk. Here it is.”

The enormity of it humbled me. “And you’ll go anywhere I want?”

“I’ve no ties anymore, Corine. You take the lead this time. I’ll follow. And I’ll do my best to open up.” Chance lifted my palms and kissed them with a tenderness that acted as the sweetest balm. “I’ll tell you about Lily. I know it has to be different this time, because I won’t get another shot with you.”

Lily had to be the lover who had died because of him. I didn’t remember him ever mentioning her name before. That had to mean something.

There was no telling how much cash he had in the Mustang. If he’d called in all his loans, it must be a lot. We could go anywhere. Seductive thought. Or I could take him to Mexico City, where we could rebuild together. Hard to say how much temptation to try again came from not wanting to be alone, how much I wanted to say yes because I’d lost so fucking much tonight. Was Chance my consolation prize?