40 Souls to Keep, page 10
“Somebody you know?”
Lucas silenced the ringer. “Maybe. But nobody I know well enough that they’re in my contact list.” He tossed the phone on the dash. “My spidey senses are telling me it’s one of the detectives working Macy’s case.” Detective Swift of the loose pants was his guess.
“Then you should answer it.”
It was as though his conscience had jumped outside his body and was lounging in the passenger seat of the Jetta. “Let’s see if they leave a message.” They glided to a stop at the intersection of Immokalee and Route 41. After waffling briefly, Lucas turned left onto the Trail and headed south into Naples proper, keeping the beach and its towering luxury hotels at his right. “Before I do that, though...you wanted to talk.” Lucas shrugged a shoulder. “I figure you’ve earned it.”
It took Jase an eternity to answer. “That’s very open-minded of you.”
Too funny. “I’m an open-minded kind of guy. Didn’t you get the memo?”
That earned him another fond, amused smirk, and weren’t those getting a bit too addictive. Lucas returned something approximating a wobbly smile and swept his sweaty palms against his pants. At this rate, he’d be cracking bad jokes all night. Pathetic.
Traffic increased on the Trail as they moved south. Newer buildings gave way to older ones. The trees on the traffic medians grew taller, but not as well maintained. The people in Naples followed the same pattern: the longtime natives had put roots down in the older part of the city—if fifty years counted as older—choosing character over novelty, while the younger upstarts chose the bright and shiny of new construction. But all that changed where the Tamiami Trail turned away from the coast and beat a path inland. There, in that tiny triangle of land where the original city had sprung from the soil—okay, swamp—was where you found the real money. Shopping that would put Rodeo Drive to shame and a residential district worthy of a queen. It was, in fact, called Port Royal, which never failed to make Lucas laugh, because not a single soul out there could claim royal blood. Though most were royal pains in the ass and pretentious enough to make Lucas’s eyes cross. They said money couldn’t buy class, but it surely could buy something kind of like it. No housing crisis there, no sir. You needed to apply to the neighborhood board before you could house hunt.
He drove south to Third Street, then got in the single right-hand lane that led to Old Naples. The four left lanes veered inland, funneling most of the undesirables away. Only the Jetta risked making the turn when the light went green, gliding onto the perfectly smooth pavement of Third Street and under the tasteful arched sign that spanned the road: Welcome to Old Naples.
He drove up and down the streets of gold, humming, going no faster than thirty-five. “Five-dollar tour,” he said to Jase. “We should be good until someone realizes there’s a ten-year-old Volkswagen cruising the streets.”
“What happens then?”
“I’ve heard stories. None of them pretty.”
Jase laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his seat. The move jostled Macy, but she didn’t stir. “So this is what five dollars gets me?” Jase asked, staring out his window. “Not bad.”
“And you thought you couldn’t afford me.”
“And now I know I can.” Jase rolled down his window, letting in the humid air. It ruffled his hair and carried his scent to Lucas, who risked a deep, discreet inhale. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Martinez that smells got to him, and not always in a nausea-inducing way. This one chased off his witty reply and made his mouth go dry.
Macy finally succumbed to sleep somewhere between First and Third Avenue South—or between Gucci and Tommy Bahama, to be more exact.
Jase laid a gentle hand on her forehead, then smoothed her hair away from her face. “She’s out.”
And should be for a while, unless disturbed. Lucas hoped he could give her at least an hour. Nodding, he swung the Jetta into the parking lot of the Fifth Third Bank and eased around to the side, mostly out of sight of the street, and killed the engine.
“Finally,” Lucas said quietly. “Much more of that and we would’ve been pulled over for sure, even if they aren’t looking for me.”
“But you’re pretty sure they are,” Jase whispered.
Lucas frowned at him in the dark. Time to stop dancing around the subject. He jerked his head at the door, then hovered like a mother hen while Jase settled Macy comfortably into the bucket seat and tucked Lucas’s blanket around her. They shut their doors at the same time, easing them closed. A moment later, the car’s interior lights went out, leaving the fussy-looking gas lamp replicas and the pale half-moon as the only illumination.
Lucas leaned against the car, folding his arms over the hood. “Okay. Talk.”
“Lucas...” Jase adopted a similar pose, then dropped his head onto his arms.
Lucas heard the frustration. Yeah, he knew this wasn’t the optimal venue for a heart-to-heart. For one, Lucas couldn’t even see Jase clearly, and it was his habit to study nonverbal clues. But getting any closer to the man at the moment felt just as threatening as what had happened at NSUC—for more than one reason. He let the silence stretch, and finally Jase sighed.
“Let me ask you a question first,” he said.
Lucas rolled his tongue around his mouth. “Shoot.”
That earned him a sharp look. “Are you religious?”
“No,” Lucas answered. “Agnostic. And a Gemini. I love fishing, watching Star Trek reruns and am a registered Democrat. Interested? You can get my full profile for a small one-time fee of $29.99.”
Another smile. Damn. He was on a roll tonight.
Jase’s bright eyes cut through the dark. “I’m agnostic too.”
“Well, there you go,” Lucas cried. “Our love was meant to be! Let me take you away from all of this, baby. I’ve got a two-bedroom bungalow that’s fifteen percent paid for. I bet you would love to call it home.”
That last had struck a chord, and not a good one. Jase’s expression blanked. “Can we—” He looked around the parking lot. “Can we go over there?”
Over there was an adorable wrought-iron park bench, tucked under the eaves of the building. Lucas looked between it and the car, judging the distance. Maybe thirty feet. “Okay.”
The bench was one of those ergonomically correct things, curving out around Lucas’s lower back. The seat dipped in the middle. In loving memory of Clancy Sommer a brass plague announced. “Some legacy, Clancy,” Lucas said.
Jase sat slowly, keeping a respectable amount of distance between them. Yet another inappropriate remark flew to Lucas’s lips, something about cuddling, but this one he didn’t voice.
“I only asked you that question because I’ve told this story a few times before, and it never goes over well if the other person has strong religious leanings.”
Curiouser and curiouser. “Why?”
Jase’s nervousness filled the space between them. “Some of it is fantastic and unexplainable.”
But isn’t that the hallmark of religious faith? Lucas swallowed that remark too. “Okay, I’ll play. I was raised Catholic but haven’t been to church since Father Al threw me out of Confirmation class. So I think we’re safe.”
Another one of those pregnant pauses. “Why did he throw you out?”
“A story for another time.” Because it was funny and might make Jase smile. No sense wasting that over what was shaping up to be one screwed-up conversation.
Jase pulled in a ragged breath. “Okay.”
And yet not, obviously, because the silence continued. Lucas waited two minutes before asking, “What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Jase said, pensive, “is that most people don’t react well to what I’m about to tell you, and...I don’t want to lose you as an ally. It’s too important to me. Macy is too important.”
Lucas softened at his words. “I’m not most people.” It seemed the thing to say, and was mostly true.
“No, Lucas,” Jase said, wry twist to his lips, “you are definitely not most people.”
“Glad we cleared that up. So spill.” Not that Lucas was any more eager to listen than Jase was to tell—this had the potential to be a turning point between them, and not a good one—but the longer they sat in the bank’s parking lot, the more uneasy he grew.
Jase bent forward over his knees. “Seven years ago, I found out...that I have the power to heal.”
The urge to crack a joke made his jaw ache. Not trusting himself to open his mouth, Lucas nodded.
Jase wrinkled his brow at the lack of reaction. “So every once in a while—the pattern is totally random—I get a feeling, I guess you could call it. Sometimes I see a person in my head. Sometimes all I know is their name. But the one thing that doesn’t change, that never changes, is that I get a strong, undeniable compulsion to help them.” He paused to take a breath, then glanced at Lucas from the corner of his eye.
Lucas wondered how long he could get away with nodding. Maybe forever, judging by the way Jase seemed to accept it as a response. Now he understood the religion question a bit better. This healing business would definitely strike a nerve. “How does this relate to Macy?”
Jase pursed his lips. “I’m here to heal her.” He dipped his head, rubbing his palms together where they hung between his knees. “It’s never the same, the dream, but in this one, I woke seeing Macy’s face in my head and where to go to find her.”
Lucas spent a fair amount of time deciding on his next question. “Is she sick?”
“No.” Which should have made any reasonable person cheer, but it troubled Jase, if his pinched expression was any measure.
“How do you know?”
Jase met his eyes for the first time since they’d started their heart-to-heart. “Oh, I knew as soon as I touched her. She’s not sick.”
Handy trick. Bet it went over like gangbusters at the retirement homes. “So,” Lucas said, drawing the word out, “if she’s not sick...”
“She must be in danger.”
The door Lucas had closed on his trite wit blew right off the hinges. “Really? You think?” he barked.
Something besides sadness finally made an appearance in Jase’s eyes. They flashed as he answered. “The fact that I’m here means she’s going to get hurt. Badly. Mortally. And when she does, I need to be there to heal her.”
Like hell. Fuming, Lucas leaned across the bench, placing their faces inches apart. It was the closest they’d been to each other yet. “That’s never going to happen. Not on my watch.”
The anger bled out of Jase’s expression. “You can’t stop this, Lucas.”
“I can do anything I want to. My mother always said so.” He stomped off toward the car, Jase scrambling to catch up.
“Do you see now why I need to stay close to her?” He grabbed Lucas by the elbow, and Lucas reacted without thinking, swiveling to twist Jase’s hand behind him. They stood locked together in the center of the parking lot.
Lucas’s chest heaved. “I don’t—shit!” He threw Jase away from him. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”
The statement didn’t appear to anger Jase. In fact, he smiled. “But you’re willing to try?”
If that was enough to make him happy, the guy had some serious issues. “I’m willing to try,” Lucas said. His cell phone beeped with an incoming text message, and he sidled a few feet away to check it. The text matched the number that had tried to call earlier. “Oh, this should be fun,” Lucas muttered as he tapped Read now on the touch screen.
where the hell r u? kid better b ok or ur ass is mine. G Swift.
Really? He’d given G Swift a pass before, but now there was no resisting. Nursing a bitter smile, Lucas typed back kid is fine and so is my ass. And because he valued his balls, added will call soon.
“Who is it from?” Jase had circled around to the passenger side of the Jetta.
“My BFF Gary.” Lucas hit Send and slipped the phone into his pocket. He stared at Jase over the top of the car. “What am I supposed to do with you, Jase? How do I explain why you’re here?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Jase said. “Trust me.”
What was it about people that made them throw those two words around like they meant nothing? “Sorry. Not good enough.” To Jase’s obvious exasperation, he said, “Will you put yourself in my shoes for a minute, please? Mystical powers aside, how do you think the police are going to look at a complete stranger hanging around their only witness to a double murder?”
Although Jase paused, Lucas didn’t get the impression it was to mull over his question. “Okay,” Jase said, sounding defeated. “Let me convince you.”
Not what he’d expected to hear, but it worked. “That would be good,” Lucas said. “How?”
Jase put his hand on the door handle. “Is there a fast food joint around here?”
Lucas hit the unlock button on his keys. “Now you’re hungry?” He shook his head. “Around here? No. We’d have to head back to where the common folk live if you want a burger and fries.”
“We should keep moving anyway,” Jase said. He ducked his head to look at Macy. “Do you think it’s safe to put her in the back?”
Responsible, definitely. But he couldn’t shake the desire to keep her close. Like in his lap, close. “Yeah, hang on.” Lucas circled to the back of the car and popped the trunk. When Jase joined him, he dumped a box of diapers in his arms. “Hold that while I dig out a booster seat.” He added a case of baby formula concentrate to Jase’s burden.
“Dare I ask?” Jase peered around the Pampers.
“I’m not ashamed.” Lucas unearthed the booster and straightened. “So I’ve got a baby fetish. At least I don’t gamble.”
“The lesser of two vices,” Jase agreed. “No, seriously. What’s with the Toys “R” Us on wheels?”
Lucas grabbed a small pair of purple flip-flops and eased the trunk shut. “Part of my job. I’m with Child Protective Services.”
Realization dawned in Jase’s eyes. “That’s why you were with Macy at the hospital.”
“Right.” Lucas opened the back door and settled the booster seat inside, then fastened the tethers. “Okay, let’s try to move her.”
Macy curled her arms obediently around Lucas’s neck when he coaxed her awake. “How’re you doing, sweetie?” he asked, holding her close for a moment.
“Okay.” Some of the sleepiness left her when he set her in the backseat. She arched her eyebrows at the booster seat, looking eighteen instead of seven. “I’m not a baby,” she said with perfect Mary Antoinette inflection.
“I know,” Lucas cajoled. “But there’s no way you weigh eighty pounds.” More like forty. “It’s the law. And it is safer.”
That word again. It had the same effect as before. With a small sigh, Macy scooted onto the booster seat.
“Thank you,” Lucas whispered as he fastened the shoulder belt and handed her the purple flip-flops. “See if you can fit those on over your socks.”
He dialed Swift’s number as they wound their way out of Old Naples, hit Send, then held the phone a few inches away from his ear. Jase cocked his head, and Lucas winked.
Swift answered on the first ring. “Where the fuck are you? Where’s the kid?” he bellowed. Even Macy jumped.
“She’s safe,” hedged Lucas. “And so am I. Thanks for asking. Is everyone okay up at NSUC?”
Swift pulled in an unsteady breath. “Jesus. I’m trying to give you a break here, Jacobson, but you’re not giving me much to work with. What the hell happened?”
Lucas swallowed a surge of defensiveness. Now wasn’t the time to question his instincts. “I was trying to protect Macy.”
“You were— Get your ass to the station on Seventh Avenue. You’ve got fifteen minutes or my next call is to your boss.” The call disconnected, and Lucas imagined Swift bemoaning his inability to end a cell phone conversation with anything but a whisper-soft beep.
Reclined against his door—hadn’t anybody ever told him that wasn’t safe?—Jase turned those soulful eyes on him. “Your BFF Gary?”
“Yeah.” Lucas tossed the phone in the cup holder and hit the lock button on Jase’s door. “Don’t judge. He’s having a bad day.” And it was completely within Swift’s rights to call Connie. Lucas hadn’t exactly been following protocol.
He kept his eyes on the road and off Jase. One glance at the casually draped arms and spread legs had been enough. And those damn eyes. Bottom line, the physical package was turning him on. The guy was good with Macy and had displayed his fair share of bravery. It was the Jesus complex where it all began to fall apart. He wanted to believe Jase—he simply couldn’t. Or he didn’t yet. And this fixation on Macy...it scared him. All in all, things weren’t looking promising for a long night of post-crisis sex, so he needed to get over the idea. Like right now.
“You okay?” Jase asked.
Lucas straightened out of his slouch. “Just being emo.”
“You’re hardly that.”
Lucas accelerated through a yellow light. “Sure am. I actually own two pairs of skinny jeans and pen poetry in my off hours.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding about the skinny jeans.”
“I think I’ll let you wonder. Hey, you’re in luck.”
“Oh?” Jase asked, giving the word more breath than sound.
Lucas suppressed a groan. “Yep. There’s a twenty-four-hour Burger King two blocks before the station. Can you show me your superpowers if we use the drive-through?” His tone carried too little humor and too much hysteria. He couldn’t face Swift feeling like this. Maybe a chocolate shake was the ticket. Grab a little serotonin high before the inquisition.
