Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (people reading books .txt) 📗

person Detective Jackson mentioned? The one he said was dead?"

"Yeah. That's the guy. Fat Fred Gardner."

"Gardner... As in Dwayne Gardner?"

Shit, he'd forgotten how quick she was. "Yeah. The Flashman is Fat Fred's bouncing baby boy. Now you know where he got all his mean."

"Why didn't the police do anything about him?"

"You know how it is, babe. They might know what he's doing, but unless somebody's willing to step up and talk, they can't prove shit. And everybody was too scared to talk."

"Even you?"

"Even me." He sighed. "It wasn't so much I cared what Fred would do to me. I didn't much, after the first year. But there were always other kids. Younger ones. Newer ones. I knew he'd hurt them to get to me. And I couldn't--I couldn't just not give a fuck what happened to them. I tried, but I couldn't."

Marilyn tucked his head back into her shoulder. "Of course you couldn't. You're a hero."

"Oh, yeah." He laughed at the stupid idea. "Some tough shit hero. Didn't dare talk back to the bad guy. Didn't save anybody. Not Teresa, not Dusty, not anybody." His failures haunted him.

"You saved Pete."

There was that.

"And you saved Eli."

He pulled back and peered through the dark at her, wishing he could see more. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness but he could still see only the shape of her face. Was she smiling? Frowning? Or did she have that dead serious expression that made his heart want to stop?

"I'm not so sure that counts," he said. "Saving Eli."

"Far as I'm concerned, it does. How could you have saved Pete if you hadn't got yourself out of there first?"

"I--you're right. I couldn't have done anything."

"And how would you have been able to save me?"

"You'd have been fine. Those kids were just wannabes--"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about this." She took his hand and put it over her heart. "You saved me from drowning in--in whatever was wrong with me."

"You didn't need me for that." He knew it for fact. "You were already taking steps, moving ahead. It wasn't anything to do with me."

She brought his hand back up to her mouth and kissed it. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm glad you saved Eli because I like having you around."

Did she? Honestly? "Long as you want me, I'm here."

She was asleep before he finished the sentence. Multiple orgasms must tire a woman out. A satisfaction that was probably way too smug settled over Eli. He'd done that to her. For her. He'd have to do it again sometime. Often.

He put his arm around her and cuddled her close. God, he'd missed this. Holding her close as well as making love.

Love me, she'd said.

Marilyn meant Make love to me, of course. Eli knew that, knew she couldn't possibly in a million, billion years want him to actually love her. He didn't know how to do love. He knew all about sex, but he was a rank beginner when it came to just making love, much less actually loving somebody.

He loved Pete, but even then, he didn't know how to love him, how to show it. Loving your child was a lot different from loving a woman, being in love.

Oh God, and what had he said when she said that? When she said Love me? He'd said, I do.

He couldn't ask her about it, ask if she heard him. If he asked, it would blow the whole thing out of proportion, which he was probably doing anyway, worrying over it like this. It was just a slip of the tongue. Hers, then his. Nothing to get worked up about. She probably didn't notice.

He should let it drop, stop thinking about it. Except...

Didn't some famous shrink guy claim that a slip of the tongue like that revealed the truth? And if that was true, did it mean that he was actually in love with Marilyn even though he didn't know anything about love, had never loved a woman in his life and probably wasn't capable of it? And if that was true--which it wasn't--he really was up shit creek. Because she could never possibly in a million, billion years love him back, and he had promised he would stay.

Monday, Eli signed the partnership papers for Dicenzo's motorcycle and engine shop. He was officially a businessman.

Tuesday, he and Marilyn ran errands. They went to the doctor and got both his casts off. His arm and leg were majorly disgusting underneath. He made Marilyn take him back to the house so he could clean up before they went downtown to give those statements about Teresa's death. After, they made arrangements for Teresa's funeral on Thursday afternoon, late enough that Pete wouldn't miss any school.

Thursday was bitter cold, but the rain had stopped early enough the day before that the streets were dry. Besides him and Pete and Marilyn, the only other person at the cemetery was Jackson. Maybe he was hoping one of Flash's cronies would show up. Eli could have told him the chances on that--zip to nil.

Marilyn had offered to ask her minister to come say a word or offer a prayer, but Eli turned her down. Tee had never had much to do with God. So it was just the three of them. And Jackson, who didn't count. That meant it was up to Eli what happened here.

Before they got in the car to drive out to the cemetery, Marilyn had handed a rose to each of them. Eli wished he'd thought of it, but at least somebody did. He laid his half-frozen rose on the plain wooden casket and cleared his throat.

"We're here to say goodbye to Teresa Howell. The world wasn't too good to you, Tee. I hope things are better now." God, what else was there to say? He had to make this good for Pete. "We had us some good times, didn't we? You were a good friend. Almost never shut your door to me. Loaned me money when I