Wherever You Go Page 3

  “I know, bro, I know. I owe you my life.”

  “More than that,” Ash muttered.

  “I know I do. I’d give you every last drop of my blood if it was worth anything, brother.”

  Tears filled Ricky’s eyes and quickly spilled over his cheeks. Asher tossed a rag to him, embarrassed for his vulnerable brother.

  “Look, Ricky. You’ve got to get yourself cleaned up. I can’t do this anymore.”

  Ricky wiped his running nose with the back of his hand.

  “I know, yeah man, I know. You’ve given me everything, Ash. I wish I could be half the man you are. The man you’ve always been.”

  Asher preferred the combative side of his brother to this overtly emotional side. Normally he’d be trying to comfort Ricky. Not now. Not after risking everything to cover for the fool.

  This was Ricky’s last chance with Asher. He had to get cleaned up. If not, Asher had to wipe his hands clean of him.

  “Get back to your apartment. Make the calls. I don’t want to hear from you again until you have a location and a check-in date.”

  “Okay, I’m on it. I promise. I’m not going to screw up again.”

  “Think of your daughter.” Asher was willing to pull the guilt card if he had to.

  “She’s all I think about. I’ve screwed up so bad. My Izzy deserves better than me.”

  Asher put his hands on Ricky’s shoulders. “Your daughter deserves—and will get—a clean father. You are better than this addiction. Get your shit together and be that man.”

  Ricky sniffed.

  “Okay. I’m listening. I promise I won’t screw up.”

  “Good. I’m counting on it.”

  Ricky wiped his face with the cloth.

  “Just twenty bucks? Please.” Ricky twisted the soiled rag in his hands, jittery as hell.

  “Get out of here before I throw you out.”

  Asher knew his brother wanted a fix. Even if people were after him—and they probably were—Ricky would use any money Asher was stupid enough to give him to get his next fix. No doubt.

  Asher worked hard to believe his brother. He also worked hard to see the truth so he could help him.

  “I’ll be checking the phone logs to be sure you called.”

  “You can spare twenty bucks. Fine. Ten.”

  Asher shook his head. He wouldn’t give him a damn nickel.

  “You’re a greedy fucker, you know that? Half of this business should be mine. He was my dad, too.”

  “Out.”

  “Screw you. You don’t want to help me. You want to control me.”

  Ricky spat on the floor and slammed out the door. Asher’s body shook at the anger he suppressed as he watched his addicted brother struggle to balance himself on the bicycle he had to ride back to the tiny apartment above the garage that used to belong to their father. The garage their father passed down to Asher, since Asher had gone into the same field of work and their dad hadn’t wanted his junkie son to screw over lifelong customers. Asher busted his ass keeping his father’s legacy strong, in addition to his own.

  An hour later, when Asher was just calming down after his altercation with his brother, a frantic call came in from his niece, Izzy.

  “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “My dad. He left here a while ago and said he’d be back, but I think he’s using again.”

  Izzy’s voice trembled. Asher shoved his short hair back and bit back the nasty things he wanted to say about his brother. His young niece shouldn’t have to worry about things like her father using drugs.

  “He stopped by here, love. He’s fine. He just needed some advice about which numbers to call to get into rehab.”

  “He didn’t look fine. I think he’s in trouble.”

  “Let me worry about your dad, sweetie. You worry about…” he paused, racking his brain to come up with something innocuous for her to worry about. “You worry about what color nail polish to wear.”

  “I don’t wear nail polish. My nails are too short to bother.”

  “Then worry about how to stop chewing on your nails. You’re thirteen. You don’t have to worry about big person things.”

  “I’m not a baby, Uncle Ash.”

  He begged to differ, but knew he’d offend her if he argued the point. She had been moody and difficult since being forced to live with him three weeks ago. He wasn’t crazy about the arrangement, either, but he was crazy about her. He had loved her since the first moment he held her.

  “How about you worry about what I can pick up for dinner tonight.”

  “Chinese.”

  He laughed. “That was quick. Chinese it is. I’ve got to let you go—the call waiting is beeping at me.”

  By the time he switched over, the caller was gone. He returned to work.

  Less than one minute later, it rang again.

  With the way the day had fluctuated from upbeat to insane, he was surprised that he was capable of smiling when he saw the Massachusetts cell phone number on his caller id.

  His smile quickly faded as he listened to Paisley’s words.

  Chapter Four

  Paisley had wanted answers, but having the truth glaring at her felt more overwhelming than she had hoped.

  Her doctor had brought in consultants and experts—some of whom Paisley knew from before.

  Though never one to indulge in childish fantasies, she had to admit that part of her had hoped the initial tests had been wrong.

  That tiny grain of hope had been buried deep in the soil today. Too deep for the sun or the rain or even fairy dust to help the hope to flourish.

  Paisley breathed deeply of the Boston air. She missed the city, but she knew she’d need the support of her sisters while she recuperated.

  Lost in depressing thoughts, Paisley knew she had one more stop to make while she was in the area.

  Her friends in the neonatal intensive care unit waved her in after she scrubbed her hands and slipped into the set of scrubs she left there.

  “Any babies needing a cuddle today?” She held her arms out, begging for them to be filled.

  “It’s your lucky day, Ms. Paisley,” a young nurse named Miranda—all curls and freckles—smiled at Paisley. She had been one of the nurses who had started the baby-cuddling initiative.

  Paisley’s secret anti-depressant/stress eliminator.

  “We’ve got this adorable baby here. Name is Pippin. Her mother delivered early, and lo and behold, she’s addicted. Mom took off a couple of weeks ago and hasn’t been heard from since.”

  Paisley’s heart melted as she approached the baby’s bed.

  Pippin’s little face scrunched up seconds before she released a wail too big for her body into the environment of gentle hums and alarming beeps.

  “Go ahead and have a seat in the rocking chair. If you can do kangaroo care, that’d be fantastic.”

  Paisley made herself comfy in the rocking chair, then tucked little Pippin into her top, smiling as the baby calmed down at the skin-to-skin contact. The nurses here in the NICU were big fans of what they called kangaroo care, and they said there were studies about how the skin-to-skin contact helped regulate breathing and helped the babies to heal.

  Paisley could understand why. There was something soothing about having two hearts beating together.

  When Miranda was done adjusting the wires attached to the baby, she moved along to busy herself elsewhere.

  Paisley began to hum. She rested her hand on the baby’s back—preemies didn’t usually like to be stroked, but they loved the gentle pressure of a touch. Pippin let out a sigh and fell into a deep sleep.

  Paisley lost track of time as she rocked and hummed and breathed in the scent of Pippin’s head.

  She didn’t allow herself to think of what this tiny little human’s future held.

  Instead, she came up with a plan.

  Paisley loved goals. Loved plans. And since this whole cancer thing was throwing her life into a tailspin, she needed to fin
d a way to maximize the detour.

  Paisley continued rocking, shocked at how strongly she felt her mother’s presence.

  Paisley had taken a medical leave. She had worked through her first bout of cancer, but it had nearly ruined the track record she had so carefully cultivated. Since she couldn’t work, she would take this time to find a way to honor her mother. Something that would help them connect across the planes of life and death. Something that would help Paisley make sense of her loss. Finally.

  Miranda allowed Paisley to feed Pippin her tiny bottle, telling Paisley this was her first week off tube feeding.

  Paisley watched as Pippin’s little mouth struggled to keep the milk from leaking out the sides.

  After the feeding, Paisley reluctantly handed Pippin over to Miranda. Before she left the hospital, she purchased a Beanie Baby toy and asked to have it delivered to Pippin in the NICU. The baby deserved to have something to call her own.

  Paisley checked the time on her cell as she left the baby hospital. Crap. She’d hit rush hour. She had hoped to be in and out of the city before the traffic increased, but she hadn’t planned on needing baby time.

  Paisley increased her pace and strolled confidently toward the car.

  The dream car. The car that had mesmerized her with its loud revving purr the whole ride down. The car that had handled the curves of the highway with grace. The car that, though old, had kept pace with her pounding heart as she raced to Boston so as not to miss her appointment.

  She could kiss Asher for letting her take his baby.

  But she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t!

  Not only had he misrepresented his career to her, but he clearly came with a stack of emotional baggage so high it would clutter her life in a time when she needed peace and clarity.

  She may have been emotional and desperate when she took him home, but she did have standards…

  And no need for a man in her life. Aside from the men who joined her team of doctors, of course.

  Paisley stopped and looked around. She thought she had gone in the right direction after leaving the second hospital, but she didn’t see the car anywhere.

  She had been forgetful lately…she must have parked on the other end of the street.

  Paisley turned, apologizing to the woman whose stroller she ran into. As she passed the storefronts, panic began to build. She remembered checking out her reflection in the Au Bon Pain café on her way in. She had told herself that once the appointment was over, she’d reward herself with a croissant. The appointment was over, and her appetite hadn’t returned.

  Maybe it had run off with the car.

  Asher would kill her if she had allowed his car to get stolen. She’d never forgive herself, either. She wasn’t typically one to borrow anything from anyone—she had been guilted enough as a child when she didn’t return something of Reed’s, or that one time she lost a library book and had to use the money she had collected from picking up aluminum soda cans off the street to turn in for their deposits in order to pay the replacement value.

  Things like that tended to stick with her, and she was one to turn a mistake into a lesson.

  Though she loved libraries, even as an adult she refused to take books out. She mainly only had time for the law library, anyway, and most of those books had to be used on site. On the rare occasion when she had time to pick up a novel, she purchased it outright.

  No risk of letting anyone down that way.

  She passed the hospital and came to the intersection. No sign of the car.

  Frantic now, she speed-walked down the block, certain she had parked right there.

  And then she noticed the fire hydrant.

  She couldn’t have made such a dumb mistake…

  She had rushed into the city, ten minutes late for an appointment she had to make it to. The line into the parking garage had been backed up, and she had sent up a silent prayer that she’d be able to find a typically unattainable parking spot on the street.

  She had thought her faith was being rewarded when she came to the big empty spot. With her heart racing and the clock ticking, she hadn’t bothered to consider that the available spot could be available for any reason aside from the fact that she needed it…

  And now the car was gone. Towed to a city lot, most likely.

  Asher would murder her.

  Maybe she should return to her suburban apartment. He’d never find her. She’d be safe there.

  She opened the browser on her phone and searched for the website to the tow lot. She hadn’t come this far in life by avoiding her problems. She’d get the car back, pray that it hadn’t been damaged in its adventures, and maybe not even mention it to Asher. As long as the car was safely in his custody by morning, he’d laugh off this little bit of craziness.

  Or bury her alive.

  What did she know about him or his crimes?

  She found the website to the tow lot easily. In order to confirm that the car had been taken and to pay the fee, she needed the license plate number.

  Why the heck hadn’t she made note of the license plate?

  Maybe because she hadn’t planned to park irresponsibly…

  Holding her hand over her stomach, she took a calming breath and Googled the phone number for Asher’s garage.

  She didn’t rehearse the conversation.

  If anyone asked if she hoped for someone other than Asher to answer the phone and give her the info she needed, she’d deny the wish.

  Of course Asher was the one to answer. Did he even have employees?

  To his credit, he surprised her by not roaring at her when she requested the information. He didn’t chastise her. He didn’t even say the words she could hear in the undertone of his voice as he questioned why she needed the information.

  “The car was towed while I was in the hospital.”

  “The hospital? What happened? Are you okay?”

  A warm pool of affection bubbled in her belly at his concerned tone, but she quickly turned down the temperature.

  “I was there for an appointment.” No, she wasn’t okay. But that wasn’t his concern. “When I came back out, I couldn’t find the car. I need the license plate to check the tow lot.”

  He was so silent, she wondered if the call had dropped.

  She looked at the phone screen. Still connected.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re telling me,” all concern had fled from his voice, replaced with an icy shell of impending doom, “that you allowed my Ferrari to be towed away?”

  “I didn’t allow it. If you hurry and give me the plate number, I can get this whole thing taken care of.”

  Silence again.

  “Do you know what could happen to a 1978 Ferrari when she’s out of the care and protection of her owner? Do you have any idea?”

  “I had no idea it was a 1978. That’s pretty neat.” She studied her nails, wishing her heart would stop pounding so ferociously. She had made a simple mistake. Did he need to sound so threatening?

  “Yes, it’s pretty neat. And if there’s one scratch on her…”

  “I get it. You’re upset.”

  “Upset?”

  Paisley wondered if his sharp tone would cause her phone to shatter.

  “I know it was hard for you to lend me your car, and now you’re disappointed because we ran into a little blip. I assure you that I can undo this. But I need the number before I can do anything.”

  “Little blip? That’s what you call this?”

  “I’m sure it feels bigger than that to you right now.”

  She was glad she couldn’t see his face. All she could hear was his heavy breathing and a slight growly groan.

  “Number?”

  He rattled off the number and she committed it to her memory.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I have the vehicle back in my custody.”

  She hung up before he could say anything else. Yes, she had screwed up. But why worry about it when she was certain the car would be
fine? If anything happened to the car, she’d pay for the repair. No biggie.

  She quelled the little voice inside her telling her that she was being selfish. She had learned a long time ago to put her needs first, but she did have to consider what this situation would look like from the other side of things.

  Asher—more or less a stranger—had given her use of his precious vintage vehicle when she desperately needed it.

  She had been careless, and he had to find out over the phone.

  Of course he’d be worried.

  Yet he hadn’t yelled at her. That was a nice change from the hot-headed lawyers she was used to.

  His tempered kindness didn’t do anything to assuage her guilt, though.

  Better for him to be angry and unkind to her. That would make keeping him at the appropriate distance so much easier.

  Because having her cancer diagnosis confirmed would create a bigger barrier to a relationship than even the possibility that his crimes were more severe than simple traffic violations.

  Good thing she wasn’t relationship material, anyway.

  ***

  In an effort to appease Asher for the stress she caused him, she stopped by Tiana’s diner for a couple of cups of the town’s best coffee and the most delicious éclairs she had ever had.

  Balancing the coffee in a drink caddy in one hand and checking emails on her phone in the other, she almost ran into a trio of women who were standing in front of the Ferrari.

  She glanced up, gave what she considered an attempt at a friendly smile, and moved around them, returning to the email from her boss. No, she would not be going in to do “a little casework” while she was on leave. But she’d answer him tomorrow.

  “We know what you’re up to,” a nasally female voice muttered.

  Paisley looked up.

  “Care to enlighten me?” she asked, mildly curious now that she noticed the three women with too much make-up blocking her entrance to the Ferrari. They glared at her with their arms crossed over their chests.