Knife & Flesh (The Night Horde SoCal Book 4) (9 page)

“Just go on to the Sizzler. We’ll be right behind you and meet you there.”

“Jesus Christ, Julie. You’re being stupid. I’m right here. Just let me come get Lucie.”

“Mami—that’s Papi! Is he here? When he talks in that box, that means he’s here! Yay!”

As far as Lucie knew, her father had been away for work all this time. She ran for the door, and Juliana yelled “No!” and jumped out to block her, grabbing her arm—and scaring her.

“Ow, Mami!”

Juliana let her go. “I’m sorry,
mija
.” The buzzer went off again. And again. And again. Lucie’s eyes were wide with confusion and excitement. She had her backpack over her shoulders, packed for a weekend with Papi, and Mr. Bananas hooked over her arm, and she looked so sweet with the big purple pansy in her hair.

And the buzzer kept going off. Juliana knew that she should hold her position and tell Mark to go to the Sizzler if he wanted to see his daughter. But Lucie was right there, and she had heard enough of her parents arguing.

She folded. Giving Lucie the brightest smile she could manage, she stood up and went to the console. Pushing the response button, she said, “We’re coming out to you.”

“Smart move,” his disembodied voice sneered in the room.

She hadn’t had time to change from her work outfit, so she put her sandals back on and held out her hand. Lucie took it, and they went out.

As soon as they turned the corner to the mailboxes and the front gate, Lucie yelled, “Papi!” and shook her hand free of Juliana’s grip.

“There’s my angel!” Mark crouched on the other side of the fence, reaching his hand through the slats like a prisoner trying for one last touch of a loved one.

Juliana caught up and opened the gate. When Mark tried to step in, she took a forceful step forward, outside. He backed off, grinning. When Lucie was through, she closed the gate. He was
not
getting into her safe space. This was bad enough.

He picked their girl up and hugged her hard. “I missed you, Lulu. I missed you so much!”

“Me too, Papi. I hope you don’t have to go to work for so long again.”

Mark turned to Juliana, his eyebrows showing curiosity.

“I told her about the job, how you had to be away for work.” God, she hoped he would just do the right thing here and go with her story.

“Ah. Yeah. I don’t think I’ll have to go away like that again. Huh, Julie?” She hated the way he was grinning, like he’d won all the showcases.

Though he was completely able-bodied, he’d parked in the disabled parking space right at the walkway, so they were standing at the front of his Lexus SUV. He turned and carried Lucie to the right rear door. He got her in and settled with her pack next to her. Juliana stood and watched, her arms crossed, feeling sick and afraid. She couldn’t help it. He scared her. For so many reasons.

When Mark stood back and put his hand on the door, ready to close it, Juliana reached out and took hold of it. “Bye, Lulu. I’ll see you Sunday. Have fun, okay?
Te quiero, mija
.”

“
Te quiero,
Mami!”

Mark closed the door. “You’re teaching her Spanish?”

“Just a few words. She’s curious. She likes to know things. And it’s part of her heritage.”

“I know that. Don’t talk to me like I don’t know my own daughter.” He put his hand around her arm. “I’ll drop her off here on Sunday. I’m not doing that asinine Sizzler thing.”

“That’s a court order. You don’t have a choice.” She tried to wrench her arm from his grip, but he bore down harder.

“This is where I’ll be. What are you going to do about it? Keep me from Lucie? You already tried that once, you stupid cunt, and you didn’t get anywhere. You do it again, and
I’ll
take her from
you
.” His voice was low, and he was still grinning that victorious grin. He squeezed harder, and Juliana gasped. She was turned away from the car, so if Lucie saw anything, it was her father’s smiling face.

“You want to let her go.”

They both stilled at the sound of Trick’s voice. The gate clanged shut as Juliana swiveled her head and saw him walking toward them. He was wearing his kutte and a pair of sleek black sunglasses, the lenses so dark they seemed opaque. He came right up to them and again said, “You want to let her go. Now.”

His voice was calm and almost gentle, but there was a resolute spike running through it, and the set of his jaw was like iron. He took off his sunglasses and slid them into his kutte pocket. His eyes were steely with intent.

Mark’s grin became a smirk, and he let Juliana go. She rubbed her arm, and then Trick took her hand and pulled her sharply away, behind him. He pulled her so hard she nearly stumbled on her high-heeled sandals; she had to take a quick step to keep her balance.

Lucie pounded on the closed window. She’d seen Trick, and she called, “Hi, Trick, hi!”

Trick put on a smile and waved back. “Hi, Luce.”

“Friend of yours?” Mark asked Juliana. Any kind of grin had left his face, and her nerves boiled up a little more.

“No,” Trick answered before she could. “Just a neighbor, being neighborly.”

Mark and Trick stared at each other for what felt like centuries. Then Mark nodded and went to the driver’s door. “I’ll be here—
here
—at five on Sunday.” He got in and started the car.

Lucie waved as they pulled away. Juliana waved back, walking to the street, until they were out of sight.

She was at the end of her tether, but she hadn’t lost her grip yet. Turning to thank Trick for his help, she found him gone. He was going through the gate, not having said even one word to her through all of that.

The gate clanged closed, between them.

“Trick! Trick, wait! Please!”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn around.

She hurried over and keyed herself through the gate. With his back to her, he said, “I’ve got someplace to be, Juliana. What do you need?”

“I want to thank you.” She walked past him and turned around so she was facing him. “Thank you. You were there when I needed help again.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna stop checking my mail.”

She tried to laugh at that, but it turned into a sob, and her tether slipped from her fingers. Tears welled up and spilled over. “I hope you don’t.” She swiped at the wet trails moving down her cheeks.

Her tears were softening him, she could see. They were softening her, too. She wanted to touch him; she needed a hug. The thought of spending the night—the whole weekend—alone, of Lucie being with her father after all that had happened with Mark in the past couple of months, had her feeling scared and lonely.

It was more than that. Once again, Trick had come to her rescue. And this time, he’d done it even though he was hurt and angry. Wasn’t that the kind of man she wanted in her life? And her daughter’s?

“That was Lucie’s dad?”

She nodded. “He’s good to her. Just not to me.”

“Then he’s not good to her, if he treats her mother like that.”

All she could make as a reply was a sob.

He watched her hand swipe another tear away, and in that deep, soft, calm voice, he asked, “What do you want, Juliana?”

Not knowing how to put it into words, she stepped close and kissed him.

His hands went to her shoulders right away, and he pushed her off. “What the hell?” His blue eyes showed angry fire, and his face knotted with it. He was furious. More furious than she thought a kiss deserved.

“I think I was wrong.”

“You ‘think.’ Good for you.”

“Trick. I’m trying to apologize. I said everything wrong last weekend. And I shouldn’t have said it at all, I think.” When he reacted to the word ‘think’ again, she put up her hand. “Yes, I think. I’m not sure. I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“Again I ask, what do you want?” His voice had stayed exactly the same, whether he’d been talking to Mark or to her.

She still didn’t have a way to say it all. She didn’t even know it all. But she could say one thing: “A friend.”

“A friend. Then why did you just kiss me?”

“I wanted to. I think—I think I want you to be more than a friend.”

He huffed and raked his hair back, dropping his head. When he looked up again, there was something hard in his eyes—something like the way he’d looked at Mark. “What, you want a quick fuck? Sure, why not, it’s Friday night. I was going to grab a girl anyway. I’ve got a meeting, but you can come to the clubhouse with me, and I’ll do you in the dorm after. Or right out in the Hall, if you’re into that.”

Her hand on her chest, she gasped and took two steps back, reeling from the blow of his words. “Trick…God.”

He blinked, but he didn’t soften. “No? Okay, then. Look, like I said, I’ve got someplace to be. I just came up to get my mail. You have a good night.” He turned away from her and opened his mailbox.

Juliana turned and went back to her apartment.

She made it inside and got the door closed before she fell apart.

~oOo~

“
Hasta la próxima, Papi, Mami. Los amo.
”

“
Si, Juli. Si. Te queremos.
”

Her parents, their heads together, filling the screen, waved. Her mother cried. After all these years, she still cried every time. Juliana waved back, telling them again that she loved them, and then she closed out of the video chat. She’d learned long ago that if she didn’t, they wouldn’t, and they’d be caught in a loop of waving and sending their love back and forth forever.

On this night, Juliana felt weepy herself. She was homesick, but she was at home. It was her family that wasn’t. If there was a word for that kind of lonely sadness, the obverse of homesickness, she didn’t know what it was. Although it was already fully unpacked and decorated, this new apartment felt cavernous and unwelcoming.

She shouldn’t have called her parents, because now she was missing them even more, and all her old furies and frustrations were kicking at their door.

And she was worried about Lucie, scared about Mark, and she felt equal parts hurt and guilty about Trick. She was a mental mess.

With no daughter to entertain and no homework to keep her distracted, being alone on this night was going to be a struggle.

She made herself a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a glass of iced tea, and sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand. By the time she’d finished the sandwich, she’d decided that there was nothing worth watching.

A book maybe? No; books made her think about Trick. She knew that he’d said that shitty stuff to her because he was hurt and angry himself, but that didn’t assuage the sting she felt. In fact, it was all the worse with the salt of guilt rubbed in. She did not want to think about Trick. Making that move on him had been a weak moment, the result of the fresh turmoil Mark had put her through and her gratitude to Trick for helping her out of it. Getting involved with him was still a bad idea and not in her plan.

So, good. He was angry and wanted no part of her—obviously. Then she could set guilt aside.

She would set guilt aside and stop thinking about him.

She would. Right now.

Grunting her frustration with herself, she took her dishes to the kitchen, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. Then she stood there, hands on her hips, and tried to think of how to keep her mind occupied. She could feel another breakdown coming, and one bout of lying on the living room floor, sobbing herself into hiccups, was enough for the day.

She’d sew something. She didn’t have a project in progress; for a long time now, she’d been too busy to sew for fun. But she had a mountain of material and pads of sketches. She’d sew something. A pretty dress. Something frivolous and fancy. She still had a bunch of that blue from last year’s mother-daughter Halloween costumes.

When she went back to her room, where she had her sewing area set up, she was smiling.

~oOo~

She’d been working for a couple of hours, deep in it, thinking about absolutely nothing else, singing along with an old Adele album, when someone knocked on her front door.

After the scene with Mark—the one today, and that last one in her old house—her first thought was that he’d gotten into the complex. Maybe he’d caught the gate behind a resident coming in. Adrenaline rushed through her. Her hands shook, and she stabbed herself with a pin.

“Ow!” That sharp pain had the effect of breaking into her sudden fog of apprehension, and, sucking on her sore finger, she went to the door and looked through the peephole.

Not Mark.

Trick.

He was leaning with his hands on the sides of the door frame, so close to the peephole that she could see the separate strands of his hair.

Another shot of adrenaline hit her, but this one wasn’t impelled by fear. This was something else.

She looked around. With the exception of her bedroom, where sewing supplies were scattered everywhere, and her bed was covered with fabrics and her pattern board, the apartment was tidy, as always.

On the other hand, she was a mess. She hadn’t washed her face since her crying jag, so who knew about her makeup. Her hair was on the top of her head in a lopsided knot. She was wearing tiny, pink knit shorts that said
DELISH
across her ass in glittery silver letters—which had been a gag Christmas gift from Lisa, and she wore them only around the house. And a stretched-out old beater. No bra. She was not dressed for company.