When Night Falls (16 page)

And just what did he have to offer? Fixing up her place a little here and there, and no cash to hand over to her, nothing to give her or Dani?

He couldn’t go back and undo the harm he’d done by reaching out for something he’d hadn’t had—tenderness, understanding, and maybe even on that night, love. Roman took in the darkened, spacious single room he had finished cleaning. Unfinished wood scrubbed clean and disinfected, the walls no more than planks, the room held the smell of bleach and of old oil. A hot plate and some bargain pots and pans served for the kitchen, the used refrigerator chugging nearby. The thrift shop bed and mattress he’d used at Mitchell’s was comfortable enough, so was the chair near the desk—or rather, the long, low shelf serving as a desk. He’d taken the luxurious recliner that was Mitchell’s offering, along with enough borrowed money for a starting bank account. The tiny bathroom’s fixtures’ gray stain had finally come off.

Downstairs was a mix of used mechanics tools and machines that probably needed repair. An ex-boxer who Roman had helped through rough times had done well with the Lamborghini money, loading the requested parts into a truck and hauling them to Madrid.

Along with the junk was a wrecked Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200 Evolution that had been used for scavenger parts by an unskilled hand. It was just about the only thing Roman could give Dani, if he could coax it back into life. Not exactly a college scholarship or a good start in life, but it was what he knew.

So here he was, just as broken down and pitiful as the
garage. Maybe they were a good fit, the wrecked bike and himself, two has-beens.

He studied the row of old posters, Alberto Vargas calendar girls, carefully tacked to the walls. As a boy, he’d drooled over the pictures and they’d caused more than a little discomfort. “Well, dolls, here we are. Not much, huh?”

He studied the slender curved bodies and long legs of the 1940s paintings, and thought how much they resembled Shelly’s. He shook his head and mocked himself for dreaming of her posed and seductive…and that wasn’t going to happen.

Roman frowned when lightning flashed and he saw the small figure dressed in a yellow slicker bent against the slashing rain and wind. A bolt seemed to shoot straight into the ground near the person and she froze—her face pale and terrified.

Shelly!

R
oman cursed as he hurried down the stairs, his bad knee aching. There was probably only one reason Shelly would be out on a night like this—Dani.

He hurried outside into the slashing rain and crossed the street. Her eyes were huge in her pale face, her long hair whipping wildly around her. Roman wrapped one arm around her shoulders and hauled her back across the street, pushing into the garage. He slammed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”

Was that rain, or was it tears falling from her lashes? He couldn’t bear to think of her crying—and she’d probably already had her share of it because of him. Her lips moved and no sound came. Then the whisper: “I can’t find Dani. I was getting ready for bed and I didn’t think she’d be out on a night like this. I went into her room, just to check on her…I think she might have gotten so angry with me this afternoon for riding with you that she might have run away. I…I knew it would happen, sooner or later. She doesn’t like rules and I—”

“You tried, Shelly.” Roman knew his daughter’s rebellious
attitude all too well. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”

She looked as if she might collapse. Roman shook her gently. “Shelly, listen to me. I want you to go upstairs and make some coffee and drink it. I want you to wait here for me. Will you?”

“I can’t. Dani—”

“I’ll bring her back,” Roman promised softly and hoped that he could. Madrid hadn’t changed much in eighteen years and the old hangouts still looked the same. For example, that barn just outside of town. He’d seen Jace’s motorcycle and others, the kid parked there, along with cars painted with stripes and cut low to the ground, and high big-tire pickups.

“I’ll go with you. I’m her mother—”

“And I’m her father. Let me do this, Shelly. Just go upstairs and make that coffee and drink it. You won’t be any good to her if you’re in shock or catch pneumonia.” Roman pushed open the sliding door and walked back to rev up his bike. He knew the machine he’d rebuilt, and tonight would push them both to the top of their limits. “Close that after me.”

“You don’t have a shirt or a raincoat. It’s terrible outside—” Shelly stripped off her yellow slicker and handed it to him. “Here.”

Roman jerked on the slicker and then stopped, his mouth drying at the sight of Shelly’s body. Her light cotton nightgown was damp, clinging to her, molding every curve. She was his Lamborghini and his Vargas calendar girl all rolled into one sweet package.

And she was real
…he reached for her, dragged her into his arms, and took her mouth, and in the next heartbeat, that wild, sweet heat poured out of her as her arms wrapped around his neck. Then she stepped back, breathing hard, her breasts taut and peaked against the material.

He revved the motor and put on his helmet and knew he’d
never forget the sight of her standing there, holding her arms in front of her, pleading with him to find her—
their
—daughter. Then Roman soared out into the storm, leaning into it, and prayed Dani would be all right. The storm, a raging wind and cold rain, slashed at him, the headlight barely burning through the sheets of rain.

Roman glanced at the old deserted motel near the highway, carports linking the four units. In disrepair, it hadn’t been used for years. Walter Whiteford had purchased it for his wife, because she loved the old European roses growing there. Madrid’s rumors said that Bonnie and Clyde, on the run after a holdup and a shootout, had once stayed in the old motel.

The buildings served as a marker to Roman, just a few more miles to where Dani might be—was it too late? Had she left Madrid?

He’d find her. He had to. Roman couldn’t let Dani travel down the same road as he had—

He battled the wind, rounded a corner, skidded and righted, and settled into the storm, fearing for Dani. A lightning bolt shot straight down into the field beside the road. If she were riding behind Jace on a night like this—

The old barn had lights, and he didn’t expect the door to open. But when it did, pushed aside by two youths, Roman drove inside. Jace’s motorcycle was there, and so were the other teenage toughs and the girls, all smoking and drinking beer and settling in for the night.

Roman tried to bank the anger inside him, a father’s rage that his daughter would be hanging her arms around a surly punk kid. But then he’d been a punk too, right here, with the same kind of friends. He let the bike idle beneath him, ignoring the ache in his knee caused by his cold, damp jeans and the stress of the ride. “So, Dani. How’s it going?”

She nodded, watching him with those painted eyes, the
defiance locked into her chin. “Just peachy. A little old to be out tonight, aren’t you?” she asked, tossing his remarks back at him. “I thought you might be getting cozy with Mom.”

He saw no reason to coddle her. She looked like she’d taken enough torment and had become hard because of it. If he guessed right, she understood straight talking better than anything wrapped in candy. “A little hard to do that when she’s worried about you.”

“Big Daddy,” Dani scoffed. “Being nice to get to my mother. I went all through that for years. She didn’t have what it took to hold my old man and you’ll be on your way soon enough.”

He had something she would want very much and he played it. “Hop on, kid, and we’ll talk about your old man when we get back to your mother.”

Dani was just a young girl again, stepping from behind her hard mask for a moment. “You knew him?”

“That’s for your mother to say.”

“She’s not going,” Jace stated, stepping forward with a few of his buddies.

“What’s she worth to you?” Roman asked as he stripped off the slicker and buttoned Dani into it.

“Gimpy Guy. Think you can take all of us?”

Roman hoped that Jace’s pride was more in his motorcycle than in keeping any girl. “I think I can probably make those junk piles you have purr. They’re needing a real mechanic. It’s a trade-off. Come around the shop and we’ll talk. But not tonight.”

“We were cutting out tonight…headed for the coast,” Dani said softly as she swung behind him, strapping on the helmet he handed her. “Then the storm came up.”

Roman watched Jace hesitate between getting his bike tooled and taking the girl he’d probably ruin and leave. Was he any better?

He nodded to Jace, who nodded back and said, “See you, dude. Later, Dani.”

He wanted his family together and safe
, Roman thought as he fought the wind and Dani, wearing the raincoat, folded herself close to his back. He feared each bolt striking the ground, the rushing streams of water crossing the road that could toss them off the bike. He knew the fear that Shelly must have felt, raising Dani alone, the responsibility of having a young life depend on her. Dani was a part of him that would go on, the best part, and she had to be protected. By the time they reached the garage, it was hailing, the icy pellets hitting his bare chest and arms.

“Inside,” he yelled as the storm crashed around them, and pushed her into the entrance door.

Shelly was at the top of the stairs, wearing his cotton shirt over her nightgown. She looked almost as young as their daughter. “Dani!”

“Stay put,” he ordered as Dani hunched beside him, black makeup streaming down her face. “Dani and I are going to have a little talk.”

He read the fear in Shelly’s eyes and shook his head. He spoke quietly to Dani. “See that bike in the corner, kid, or what’s left of it? I know how to make motors purr, and that one is yours if you’ll cool it with your mother tonight. You don’t need to ride behind any guy. You can ride your own bike. Pink, I thought. A real sassy pink, with a helmet to match. Stick around and I’ll show you how to rebuild it.”

Dani scanned the machine. “It’s a pile of junk,” she scoffed, but Roman caught the excitement, recognized it—she saw the beauty of a finely tuned machine in those boxes just as he had.

“Uh-huh. So was the one I ride—it was a beauty before some rich dude was showing off and slammed it into a brick wall. I had some down time with my knee, and rebuilding her
helped. It takes a real mechanic to love a good piece of machinery back to life, someone with talent. But then, she’s your baby and you understand her every rumble. You can feel her purr beneath you, know her limits and her strengths. This Sportster is a good machine.”

Dani considered the parts carefully lined up on the garage floor. “You might know what you’re talking about. You ride okay, I guess.”

“Thanks. So can you.”

Sure, bribe her into the much needed time. He watched Dani weigh her options, and saw the fear. He prayed she’d have enough sense to bend her pride—he hadn’t.

“What’s the deal? How do you know my father?” she demanded, and he recognized that one-track stubborn streak as his own, too.

“Let’s go upstairs, shall we?”

Shelly fought tears as Dani and Roman slowly ascended the stairs—Dani because she was reluctant to face her mother, and Roman because he was soaked through, aching and favoring his injured leg. They were so much alike—mulish, rebellious, passionate, and strong. It had cost him tonight to ride into the storm, but he had—for their daughter. He shot Shelly a look that said it was up to her and reached for a towel, roughly mopping it over Dani’s head and face. He flipped open the raincoat and jerked it from her, tossing it aside. “We’re here for a little while. You can use the bathroom and soap to wipe that mess off your face.”

When Dani sulked into the bathroom, Roman spoke quietly to Shelly as he dried himself with the same towel and jerked on a black long-sleeved T-shirt. “I told her I knew her father. The rest and how much you want to tell Dani is up to you.”

Shelly gripped his arm. “But—”

“Up to you,” Roman repeated as Dani returned. He went
to the hot plate and poured the coffee, sipping it as he watched Shelly and Dani.

“He said he knows my father,” Dani stated abruptly. “Who was he?”

Who was he?
The question hung in the air, the only sound in the room was the hail pounding the window.

Shelly turned to Roman, seeking his help, but his expression was impassive, giving her nothing. She felt her world crumbling, falling onto the bare boards at her feet as she fought for control. How could she tell Dani that Roman was her father?

Dani leaned back and blinked as though she had been slapped. “
What did you say? He’s my father?
”

And then Shelly knew she had spoken aloud, the secret locked inside her for years circling the silence. “I…yes, he is. I was young and he was—he was injured, so terribly wounded. I’d always loved him, I think, and I wanted him to know that love was real and good and strong. It was only for a night, and he didn’t know I—he gave me you. I’ve never regretted being with him, not for a moment.”

Dani was staring at Roman in shock. “Take it easy, kid,” he warned slowly as her temper brewed. “Leave your mother out of this one, okay? Let me have it. I deserve it, not her.”

“If you knew what my mother went through…how hard she had to work…the way my grandmother, if you can call her that, treats her…”

Shelly blinked, Dani had turned on Roman, defending her mother.

“I’m going to take care of her from now on, kid, and you, too. So are you up to trying this, or not?”

“Exactly what?” Dani screamed, her thin body taut. “You just come in here and think you’ll take up with my mother again and hurt her and leave her like you did before? No way, buddy.”

Roman smiled that devastating smile at Shelly, who
couldn’t follow what was happening between him and Dani. “I like this kid. You did an okay job, Mom.”

“I’m going to have to think about this,” Dani said slowly, carefully, as she plopped down into his chair. “I have to think what’s in it for her and for me, because she’s been through plenty.”

Roman scratched the stubble on his jaw. “How about some eggs and toast while you’re thinking?”

Dani just glared at him and then at Shelly. “Boy, you sure know how to pick ’em.”

To Roman she said, “I heard your mom ran out on you. I figure you’ve got the same blood and could do the same.”

Roman leveled a look at her and the room was dead quiet as he said, “Kid, I’m staying for the duration. It may not be sweet, but I’m what you drew, like it or not.”

Dani glared at him, and Roman’s expression said he wasn’t backing up or “making nice.” Shelly tried to say something that would soothe the moment, but what was there to say? Instead, she went to the window and watched the storm.

She had no idea how to cope with the two of them. And she sensed a bond between them already—a stubborn, rebellious one that said they were set to slash and hack things out between them.

Then, as Roman fixed toast and eggs and placed them on the shelf that was his desk, Dani said in a low warning tone, “You get my mother pregnant again, and you’ll pay big time.”

Shelly closed her eyes, leaned her forehead against the cool glass, and wished this were all a nightmare.

“So how far has Jace—”

“Roman!” Shelly exclaimed, disbelieving the whole conversation that had moved around her, sweeping into its own storm.

“I can handle him, Mom,” Dani stated baldly. “I’m still sweet, Pops. Now,
you
tell
me
how you felt about my mom all those years ago.”

For a moment, Roman scowled at her, his lips clamped shut.

“It’s a trade-off, Pops. Truth time,” Dani nudged ruthlessly.

“I thought she was the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. She’s about as close to love as I ever came, and I knew then that I didn’t deserve her. I don’t now,” Roman said slowly, looking at Shelly. “I dreamed about her. I’d hoped she’d settled down with a guy she deserved and had all she wanted. I never thought that—”

Shelly looked away, her hands trembling as she locked them, fingers digging into her flesh.

“Yeah, right. I’ve got some serious thinking to do,” Dani said. “And we’re not going to be friends.”

“Oh, boy, I sure wouldn’t want that.”

“And I don’t want the whole town knowing the deal, either…not until I’m ready to handle it right.”

“It’s up to you. Your call.”