LITMIR.BIZ

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she give you a ride home?” Cheyenne asked. “Where was your truck?”

      “She came across me after the fight, when I was trying to get help.”

      “What was she doing out there so late at night? Was she at the bar, too?”

      “No. She was on her way back from some art show.”

      “Oh, art,” Grady said.

      “Something wrong with that?” Rod asked.

      Grady gave him a funny look. “Of course not. I’m just messin’ around. When did her husband die?”

      “About a year ago.”

      “So she’s available,” Mack said, and Rod felt himself stiffen—almost as much as Natasha did.

      “She’s too old for you, bro.”

      “But not for you.” Anya smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Is that why you mowed her lawn today?”

      Rod hadn’t realized his stepmother had seen him. She usually stayed in her room all day, playing on the computer or watching TV. “Not necessarily. She doesn’t have a mower yet, so I figured I might as well do hers while I was doing ours.”

      “And did she show you any appreciation?” J.T. joked, sending him a meaningful grin.

      Rod didn’t care for the way his father talked about women since he’d been released from prison. “She thanked me, if that’s what you mean.”

      “Is she nice?” Cheyenne asked.

      “Seems like it,” he said.

      Cheyenne took a bottle of salad dressing out of the box she’d used to transport all the food. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

      Grady sat down and dug into his meal before the rest of them could get a plate. “Why not tonight?”

      Without Mack’s even asking, Natasha added a second piece of garlic bread to his plate, and Rod pretended he didn’t notice that whatever Mack received from Natasha was always the biggest and the best.

      “Dyl’s getting home soon,” Cheyenne replied. “So I should head out.”

      “Have him join us,” J.T said. “He hardly ever comes over these days.”

      Rod suspected Anya’s presence had a great deal to do with that. Dylan liked her even less than the rest of them did.

      “Can’t,” she said. “He has a baseball game.”

      “We should go watch him play,” Anya suggested, but no one chimed in to encourage her.

      Rod put Kellan down to accept his plate. “Thanks.” Since he wanted to speak to Cheyenne in private before she left, he hoped she wasn’t going to rush off.

      “How’s your hand?” She nodded toward his cast.

      “Throbbing like crazy,” he admitted.

      “I made that apple crisp you like for dessert.” She winked. “Maybe that’ll help ease the pain.”

      He leaned over to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Dylan got lucky the day he married you.”

      “That’s what I keep telling him,” she teased.

      “Will Aaron be at the game, too?” Mack asked.

      “Should be,” she told them. “Dyl talked him into joining the team.”

      Mack got up to get a beer and grabbed one for Rod, too. “Want to go over to the park?” he murmured so Anya and the others couldn’t hear.

      Normally, Rod would’ve enjoyed seeing the game. But after being up so late, and everything he’d dealt with today, he was ready for bed. “Not tonight.”

      Cheyenne put the dessert on the counter and started cleaning the spatula and serving spoons. “I’ll leave the rest of this here,” she said, indicating the leftover salad, lasagna and bread. “Just remember to take the dishes to Dylan tomorrow so he can bring them home.”

      “I will,” Rod said.

      She swung her son into her arms. “I’d better get going. I want to make sure Dyl has a chance to eat before he has to show up at the field.”

      Rod wasn’t finished with his supper, but he stood. “I’ll walk you out,” he said so the others wouldn’t find it odd when he left the kitchen after only a few bites.

      He caught up with his sister-in-law at the front door. “Before you go, could you do me a favor?”

      She turned in surprise. “Of course.”

      “Will you take a second to come up and look in my closet?”

      “What for?” she asked.

      He lowered his voice to make sure no one else could hear. Fortunately, they were all so busy eating, he didn’t think anyone was paying attention. “I have a date tomorrow.”

      “And you want me to tell you what to wear? This girl must be special,” she said. “You’ve never asked for my help with that kind of thing before.”

      He’d never felt so out of his element before. “She’s...different.”

      “Special,” she confirmed with a grin. “Do I know her?”

      He scratched his neck. “It’s our new neighbor.”

      “Oh!” Her smile widened. “Why didn’t you speak up a second ago?”

      “It’s one date,” he said with a shrug.

      “But you’d like to impress her.” She wasn’t buying his nonchalance.

      “I need to dress up a little, that’s all,” he said. “Her husband—the man who passed away—was a heart surgeon.”

      “I see,” she responded. “So we’re going for sophisticated and respectable.”

      At least Cheyenne seemed to be catching on to what he needed. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

      She put down her son and linked her arm through Rod’s. “I have no doubt you’ll clean up nicely. Let’s go take a look.”

       7

      India sat in her quiet living room with a cup of tea. She’d thought some chamomile might help her relax, but it didn’t seem to be working. She was wide-awake and anxious, and looking at another long night. She wished she could read a book or watch TV. But ever since Detective Flores had told her about Sebastian, she’d been checking and double-checking her doors and windows. She wanted to believe he’d had enough trouble. That he’d slink off without bothering her again, maybe even leave the area before the police could find the additional evidence she was hoping for. Most men in his situation would flee if they had the chance, wouldn’t they?

      But she couldn’t assume anything when it came to Sebastian. If he didn’t care about taking Charlie’s life, or even his own—and she knew from the way he’d been talking that he didn’t—he certainly wouldn’t care about taking hers.

      Then Cassia really would be an orphan...

      The report of the gun the night Charlie was shot seemed to echo in her head and she saw, again, how her husband had gasped and clutched his chest when the bullet struck him. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid those memories, but she was too tired to fight them. The most gruesome images bombarded her repeatedly, as well as the worst of what’d come after—when Sebastian had forced her to tell him she still loved him, that she’d marry him and do...other things. That was the only way she could convince him not to harm Cassia. She’d never admitted to the rape. She wasn’t even sure she could call it rape, since she hadn’t refused. She’d used her body and everything else she’d

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