Don't Catch Me Page 7

  It wasn’t lost on him that Billy Jo was far from a decent, respectable kid. He’d bet his last dollar that she’d screwed over people, lied, cheated, stolen, and done probably a lot of other bad things just to survive, but everyone around her was reacting instead of helping. These people were supposed to be on her side. He couldn’t imagine how she felt, because he had a family. He’d been adopted, and even though his home hadn’t been the happy kind filled with sunshine and butterflies, it had been all right. He supposed that if people had actually done their homework and really dug into the background of his parents, they’d have seen that the environment wasn’t exactly fit for kids, with a gambler for a father, a money shortage, and a mother who ran out when shit hit the fan. Except one thing had set Chase and his brothers apart from Billy Jo. Even with their shitty parents, they had been wanted—and just that alone had been everything.

  Chapter 13

  Being moved to the county jail bothered Billy Jo more than she would have admitted. Even though she’d never really thought Chase was going to get her out, she couldn’t help feeling this sense of having been let down again, which was stupid, considering she didn’t let people in to give them a chance to let her down. That was something that had been kicked out of her years ago. She was a nobody. She wasn’t wanted, she was trouble, and she wasn’t loved, whatever that meant.

  Billy Jo couldn’t understand that feeling of family, of knowing that no matter what, someone loved you. Maybe that was why it bothered her now when Chase gave her hope only for everything to crash around her. What was wrong with her for being foolish enough to listen to him and believe him? Hope was something she couldn’t afford to have.

  She was carrying a blanket, a sheet, a toothbrush, and a change of underwear and socks, being led to her cell by an overweight black woman, the same guard who had searched her and sprayed her down before tossing her some scratchy brown khakis and an oversized white T-shirt, along with essentials like a bra, underwear, and socks. She was recited a list of rules, which she’d stopped listening to from the start, because it was practiced, cold, and impersonal and sounded so much like the rules the Humboldts imposed on the kids they fostered. This was just a different prison now, being bumped up to the big times.

  She took in the long row of steel prison doors, and the guard stopped at one, slid open a metal slot in it, and yelled in at someone to back away. Then she shoved a key in the lock, and the clank of the door opening echoed. She wondered whether she would ever get used to the sound.

  “Get on in there,” the woman said as Billy Jo walked in. “You two, I want no problems.”

  The door closed behind her, and she took in another woman—Latina, maybe, older, a little chunky, late twenties. She was leaning in the corner, watching her in a way Billy Jo didn’t want to put too much thought into. There were two bunks, and one was taken. She didn’t say a word as she went to the empty bunk and put her things down.

  “Geez, you’re just a kid,” the woman said. “What’d you do to get yourself in here?” She pushed away from the concrete wall. The cell was tiny, a box, really, with no window and just a light. They had been left in there to rot.

  “Pulled a gun on someone.”

  The woman laughed. Billy Jo could have asked her what she’d done, but that would mean talking, sharing, and she didn’t do that.

  “Hope you shot him, whoever it was.” The woman was all attitude, something Billy Jo understood. Shooting Roy was a line she’d had no plans to cross, but she could see his face in her mind, that vile, disgusting piece of shit, and for a moment she wished she’d actually done it.

  She heard a key in the lock again, and the door opened to reveal the same guard. “You got a visitor,” she said to Billy Jo, who didn’t move, afraid for a second of who it was. The Humboldts, the mister, maybe, to make sure she kept her mouth shut?

  “Who is it?”

  “Don’t know. Just says you got a visitor. Come on, now. I don’t have all day,” the guard said.

  Billy Jo walked out of the cell in cheap prison sneakers that pinched her feet and through another locked door to a hallway with a glassed-in room. She felt her footing stumble a second when she saw who was there, but she kept it together, her head high as she kept moving.

  There in the room, waiting for her, was Chase McCabe, the man who was now her lawyer, who was responsible for her being here, and instead of leaving like she’d expected him to do, he just kept coming back, kept showing up. Maybe this was her punishment.

  The door closed behind her, and they were alone.

  “How are you doing?” He sounded concerned. Really, this was a joke to him. It had to be. Was he kidding?

  “Seriously, I’m in jail,” she said and didn’t miss the way his eyebrows rose. Was he amused? She didn’t sit until he gestured to a stool welded to the table, and he took the other one. At least the walls aren’t gray was all she could think. That was a color she’d grown to hate. She liked white, yellow, anything bright.

  “I’m sorry you’re in here. I’m going to get you out. Just need to get you someplace that isn’t with the Humboldts. Do you think you can hang on a bit longer?”

  Was he kidding? Dangling another carrot. Don’t fall for it again. Tell him to go fuck himself. She shrugged.

  “Great, we’re back to the no talking.” He sounded pissed. How did he have the right to be pissed?

  She took in the legal pad on the table, a pen, and what looked like half a page of notes. He wasn’t wearing his fancy suit jacket and tie, but his crisp white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was writing. The bandage on his arms was still there. The muscles flexed in his forearm as he gave all his attention to whatever he was putting on that paper. It was a scribble she couldn’t make out.

  She just looked at him. Did he have any idea what a pretty boy he was? Of course he did. Guys like that always did.

  “What the hell is going through your head right now?” he said as he stopped writing and slammed his pen on the table.

  She jumped. She hadn’t expected the fire that was staring at her. He ran his hand over the back of his very blond hair and messed it up. Something wasn’t going his way. That had her wanting to smile, but he wasn’t—smiling, that is. He looked tired and slammed his fist on the table again when she didn’t answer. She jumped again. She hadn’t expected that, either.

  “I realize you have trust issues,” he said. “Hell, I can even understand why, but I’m trying to help, and reading between the lines and trying to piece together what happened is really difficult when you won’t talk to me. I’m wasting more fucking time reading notes from people who couldn’t give two fucks to piece together timelines, what your story is, when you could just tell me and save me the time so I can do more productive things like getting you the fuck out of here and someplace safe.” He looked away and then down to his legal pad, picked up the pen, and started writing again. Would he tell her to go screw herself and walk out the door? How much would it take to push him away?

  “I didn’t know there were bullets in the gun,” she said, hearing her voice and seeing how he stilled. He looked up at her, and she wasn’t sure whether it was in shock or surprise. “I wasn’t going to shoot him. I just wanted him to know I was serious, to scare him.”

  He seemed to calm a bit, as if that little bit of nothing was everything to him. “So why show up at the gas station in the first place with the gun? You said he owed you money. Was it for sex?” He was so matter of fact.

  She fidgeted. She didn’t want to talk about this. What if she told him the truth? What would he do with it?

  “Come on, Billy Jo. I’m not here to judge you. I can’t help you unless you level with me,” he said. “I know bad things happen. I know bad things have happened to you.”

  “He owed me money. He was supposed to pay me. It wasn’t for sex.” Just the thought of that disgusting prick sweating and rutting on her had her swallowing back bile.

  Chase was still watching her, and he was wai
ting. Would he wait all day? She couldn’t figure this guy out. Why was he wasting his time on her? Why wouldn’t he just leave, quit, like everyone did? She would push and push until they turned their backs on her. It was what she did. It was how she survived.

  “I sold him guns and he never paid me,” she said and watched as Chase sat up straight. This time he rested his pen on the paper he’d filled with scribbles she’d never be able to read.

  “Okay, well, that gives us a place to start,” he said, and again, it was not what she’d expected.

  Chapter 14

  “I kind of walked into a situation here that’s going to tie me up for a few days,” Chase said into his phone as he paced the small hotel room. He’d expected to stay only a night, and he took in his small suitcase, knowing he didn’t have enough clean clothes. He’d have to do laundry, as one dress shirt was ruined and the other two were dirty. He needed to wrap things up and get across the border and down to Henderson, where his dad was freaking out.

  “Great, so what are we supposed to do, just hang tough until you decide to show? Seriously, Chase, I’ve got things to do. You arranged this little gathering.”

  He could hear a lot of things in Aaron’s voice and knew he was close to cutting out. That was what his little brother did when things got a little too real.

  “I know I did. I just can’t walk away from this now. I’ve sort of set things in motion. Besides, you and Luc can head down to Henderson, see Dad, Mom, and that little sister of ours. Just act as a buffer between them.”

  “Don’t you think Dad is a little bit old for us to come riding in and saving the day? Seriously, he met up with Mom, they’re getting back together, and there’s another kid. I don’t know if I want to get involved. Remember, Mom walked out on us, and Dad…”

  Yeah, Aaron was thinking too much. They had all been hurt when their mom left. She hadn’t just left their dad; she’d left all of them. He’d heard it all from Vic, his big brother, who had no intention of joining them.

  “I know she did, but Dad called, and I think he’s more freaked out about the kid. Just go down there, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He needed to fix things here with Billy Jo.

  “Well, what’s so important where you are that you need to blow us off? I mean you’re, where, in the middle of nowhere? Doing what, exactly? You didn’t really tell me.”

  No, he didn’t, he realized as he paced the hotel room. “Stopped to fill up and kind of walked in on a robbery in progress. Turned out to be some kid who’s in the care of the state and is coming from a bad situation. She has no one to help her. It’s more complicated than that, though, and I can’t get into it.”

  There was a lot he couldn’t share, but he’d have liked to at least bounce it off someone.

  “So, again, why are you there? Oh, yeah, this insane need you have to organize everyone, as if you’re the only one who can fix everyone else’s problems.” Aaron swore. He sounded in a mood, down on life. It had happened a time or two before.

  “Is everything okay with you? I know you told me you had a fight coming up in Chicago.” Maybe something more was going on—not that Aaron shared. No, he pounded the crap out of people. That was what he shared.

  “Don’t go trying to fix me too, Chase. I’m a big boy. Can take care of myself. Remember, this is about you arranging this little reunion and then walking right into a problem only you can fix. So, again, why are you still there, and why is it that only you can help this kid?”

  “Remember when you came to us, how many places you’d been in?”

  His brother didn’t say anything, but he could hear him breathing as if he were thinking. Aaron had never talked about his childhood before even though Chase knew it haunted him. Aaron said nothing.

  “Well, this girl has spent her entire life bouncing around—how many places, I don’t know. She’s worse than you, trying to get something out of her. No one’s given this kid a god damn, and from what I can tell, everyone has pretty much written her off, including the state.”

  “How old is she?” Aaron asked.

  He took a breath as he took in the file and notes he had, which included the birth certificate he’d discovered. Billy Jo had been born fifteen years earlier to a meth addict and had spent her first few months being weaned off the drug, a baby that was difficult to care for, spending time in and out of the ER and being bounced around from foster home to foster home. “Fifteen going on fifty.”

  “Ouch!” Aaron added, but nothing else. Then again, he wasn’t known for his chatty personality. He was the one who held everything in, and he was the hardest one to read of all Chase’s brothers.

  “Didn’t hear from Luc. Did he get in?”

  “Yeah, last night. Drove from Denver. He’s down playing cards right now, killing time until you get here, but now that I know you’re not coming, we can get out of here.”

  “Look, just be a buffer for Mom and Dad—and call me.”

  He could handle one more situation from a distance. That was what he did: He handled situations, problems, every day. He wondered what a day in his life would be like if he had nothing to fix. Boring, maybe.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Aaron said before hanging up.

  Chase took in the file on Billy Jo, all the records and reports he’d finally managed to piece together. The scar on her arm was from when she was nine, taken to the ER and stitched up. The report said it had happened at a foster home. The foster parents had said they’d found her in the bathroom, on the floor, with a knife. She’d been moved again, as the foster parents wouldn’t take her back.

  The notes in the file said she was disruptive, a troublemaker, a runner, a biter. Yeah, he had the proof of that. The fact was that the longest she’d lived in one home was a year and a half, and that had been with the Humboldts, the last move. From what he’d just learned, if she was selling guns and so were they, then the couple had no intention of letting Billy Jo walk away.

  Chapter 15

  Chase had said he was staying at the Homestead Hotel and Suites in Vale, and here Rose was, driving down the highway to a place she’d been only a time or two to see a man who was exactly the kind of guy she needed to stay away from. She had a place, she had a life, and for the first time ever, she had peace.

  Unfortunately, there were lines that even Rose couldn’t cross, and the fact that Chase McCabe had stuck around in a place he could and should have blown off two days ago to help a girl no one else could make time for had her giving him a second—hell, even a third look. She figured he didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with. He might have thought he did, and that was the part that could and would get him hurt. Even Billy Jo knew who the Humboldts were.

  She pulled into the hotel and parked, then walked into the lobby. It was open and green, and two clerks stood behind the counter with heads down, looking at a computer. She stopped at the front desk.

  “Can I help you?” one of the clerks said, a young lady.

  “Can you tell me if a Chase McCabe is staying here?” she asked, and the woman typed on the keyboard.

  “Ah, yes, he is,” she said, smiling over to Rose.

  “Don’t suppose you could tell me what room he’s in?”

  Of course, the clerk shook her head. “No, sorry.”

  “Okay, could you call up and let him know Rose Wilcox is here to see him?”

  That was easy. She hoped he was here after driving all this way, though she supposed now that she could have phoned ahead and saved herself the time and gas.

  “Hi, Mr. McCabe, this is the front desk. There’s a woman here by the name of Rose Wilcox who is asking about you. Yes, yes…” The clerk was listening, and Rose could hear Chase’s deep voice. Then the girl was smiling into the phone in a dreamy kind of way. Tall, ripped, and good looking must have been her thing. Rose could have rolled her eyes as she stared at the megawatt smile the girl was putting into the phone. “Of course, Mr. McCabe, I’ll let her know.” She hung up the phone, and when her gaze landed
back on Rose, the wattage dimmed drastically for her.

  “He’ll be right down. He said to wait for him.”

  Rose tapped the counter and then wandered the two steps to the lobby area, which held two sofas and two beige easy chairs. The side table had a coffee carafe, mugs, and a jug of water, and she hesitated but figured a shot of caffeine might do her some good. She lifted one of the white mugs and pushed the handle.

  “Rose.”

  She stopped after one squirt of coffee, hearing his voice, which was affecting her in ways it shouldn’t. When she turned, his expression was questioning.

  “Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call” was all she could think to say, knowing the clerk was watching them.

  “That’s fine. Why are you here?” he asked. He was really putting her on the spot. Awkward. She hadn’t expected this, not from Chase.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” she said, and he looked around and lifted his hand to her arm without touching it.

  “Of course. You okay with my room? It hasn’t been made up and is kind of a mess. Housekeeping hasn’t come by yet. Or would you like to go out for a bite to eat or something?”

  “Your room’s fine,” she said, but was it really? She set the coffee mug with the splash of coffee still in it on the table.

  Chase started walking, said something to the clerk about his room, and then she followed him down a hall and up a set of stairs. “Didn’t expect to be here this long, and working in a tiny room is getting a little crowded. I’m surprised you’re here,” he said. This wasn’t the fun and flirty man she’d talked to a few times. This was a distracted Chase, and she was wondering whether her visit was welcome.

  “I’m surprised, as well.”

  That had his attention as he stopped at a door, dark green, number 285. He shoved his key card in and pushed it open. He was right; it was a mess. One unmade queen bed was stacked with pillows, with clothes piled on a chair and papers scattered everywhere. A towel was tossed on the floor by the bathroom.