Chapter 13
"So what now?"
Karen poked her head through the neck of her shirt to find Carlton standing by the balcony table where the waiter had deposited the coffee and fruit they'd ordered. Frankly, after their overnight exertions, she could eat a damned house, but they would be joining her mother and Iris at Beach Stax for a proper, carb-and-protein loaded breakfast, so coffee and fruit would have to do. Mostly coffee.
"What now better be that you're fixing me a cup of coffee. Like, post-haste." She reached for his abandoned button-down from the night before and drew it on over her shirt and worn jeans, rolling up the cuffs before tying the tails at her waist. The night before, she'd had the good sense to prepare an overnight bag that she'd grabbed on her way out the door—good thing, since he'd destroyed her underwear and her sundress was missing a few buttons on the bodice—so she was at least decently outfitted, but still, nothing felt quite as good as having something he'd worn wrapped around her.
It was possible she had an addiction.
Multiple ones, as she longingly eyed the mug into which Carlton poured steaming dark brew. As well as the long, graceful hands handling the mug and carafe. Attached to the strong arms and shoulders and leading to the face and the eyes and the soft waves of black and silver hair…
"Keep looking at me like that and not only will you not get coffee, you may miss breakfast altogether."
Her stomach growled audibly at the mention of breakfast, making her ruthlessly shove her libido to the background. Not without effort, because standing in the sunlight, his eyes reflecting the sky and ocean?
She couldn't help but wonder if food wasn't for wusses either but no, dammit—even if they had years of want to make up for, they at least now had the time.
With a sigh that combined wistfulness with satisfaction, she stepped onto the balcony and accepted the mug he held out, but not before stretching up for a cinnamon-flavored kiss. Sinking into one of the chaise lounges—the chaise lounge—she realized with a smug grin, she scooted to one side and patted the cushion, sighing again as Carlton eased down beside her,.
"I love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple and nuzzling her hair in a way that left her feeling both peaceful and unbearably excited. He loved her. He was with her. He loved her.
"I love you, too, Carlton."
Snuggling in closer, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, relishing the bite of his stubble against her overly-sensitive lips, doubly glad she'd discouraged him from shaving this morning, despite his protests that everyone would know what they'd been up to. To which Karen had retorted that there was a hell of a lot more evidence beyond a day's worth of beard to prove what they'd been up to. The general air of exhaustion coupled with utter satiation for one. Not to mention the glow she suspected surrounded her like a halo, although there wasn't a damned pure thing about her thoughts. He'd laughed and tossed the shaving kit back in his go bag then proceeded to steer her into the shower and get up to more of that thing he'd been so worried everyone would know they'd been up to.
After another kiss, allowing her tongue out to taste and savoring the slight shiver she felt pass through him, she settled herself more comfortably, taking a deep, restorative sip of coffee.
"You never answered my question."
"Hm?" Drowsy and perfectly comfortable lying curved against him, she closed her eyes and lazily sipped her coffee.
"So what now?"
"From what standpoint?" Although she suspected she already knew. However, better to ask outright than make assumptions. That bad habit had gotten them both in a boatload of trouble. Trouble Karen wanted to avoid at all costs.
His fingers playing through her hair in a soothing caress, he said, "From the standpoint of, if it was up to me, we'd go to the nearest courthouse tomorrow morning and make it legal all over again, but that's what the freedom of being nineteen allows."
"I know."
"Or the freedom of being forty-four and a lonely, embittered pain in the ass."
"Stop it," she warned, sitting up and leveling a glare that left him visibly squirming.
Good.
"Sorry. Force of habit."
"Well you can start breaking it right now. I won't stand for it." She sorely wanted to smack him upside the head. She settled instead for cupping his cheek in her hand. "Besides, you're not lonely anymore. You are not alone. Are we clear?"
"Roger that."
And if he kept looking at her like that, they'd definitely not make breakfast. Or lunch. Quite possibly not dinner either.
"However, you're also right about it not being just about us anymore." She cupped her mug in both hands and stared down into the khaki depths as if searching for answers. "As much as I can tell Iris is going to love having you in her life, she's still going to need time to adjust. " She glanced up in time to see his front teeth digging into his lower lip—a sure sign of stress.
"And so are you," she added with a smile and a gentle pat to his thigh. "But you'll be fine."
"I hope so." His teeth continued worrying his lip until she finally reached out and tugged it free, soothing the reddened spot with a gentle kiss.
"What is it?"
"How is your ex going to take it?"
Karen paused, considering how best to answer and opting for a fairly direct, "He won't be crazy about it, nor will he be particularly shocked."
Sharp detective to the core, Carlton correctly interpreted her meaning. "He knows about me?"
"Not initially, but he guessed." At her pause, Carlton took both their mugs and placed them on the side table before pulling her back into the security of his embrace. Correctly sensing how much she needed him.
Her back to his chest and head comfortably nestled on his shoulder, she stared out past the balcony rail to the beach, her gaze following the path of a swallow-tail kite as it rose into the air, its colors sharp and bright against the endless blue of the sky. "Obviously, he knew I'd been married, but there was never any reason to tell him who. I did debate confessing it was you when I accepted the job transfer to Santa Barbara, and then again when I was promoted to Chief, but there honestly didn't seem to be much point. It was clear you despised me—"
"I never despised you," he broke in, his arms tightening around her.
"You gave a pretty good impression of it. At least at first." Covering his hands with hers, she played her fingers along the graceful length of his. "Not that it mattered, since I was bound and determined to not allow any aspect of my personal life—past or present—to affect my professional life."
She sighed. "Truth is, I'd so successfully compartmentalized my life, I wasn't really fully living it." Slipping her hands beneath his, she turned them so she could lace their fingers together. "Truth is," she confessed softly, "I was so terrified, I refused to allow myself to fully experience any emotion—including love. I just didn't want to hurt that bad ever again. Then Iris was born and all those walls crashed down in the span of a single heartbeat."
Karen tilted her head back against his shoulder and found him gazing down at her, his eyes the same pale, crystal blue as when he'd held Iris for those few precious moments.
"And there you were."
"Oh God." Carlton closed his eyes for a brief moment; when he opened them the blue was clouded with a troubled gray. "Is that when he guessed?"
She shook her head. "That's just when I started—I don't know… feeling again. Which ironically made our marriage really great for the next couple of years. But it also had the result of making me more aware of you. It wasn't until after Old Sonora that he actually started suspecting."
"What the hell—Old Sonora?" He shifted so they were on their sides facing each other. "Why?"
"Why?" Annoyed, Karen pushed at his chest. "Why?" she repeated with another shove that was more of a thump. "Good Lord, Carlton, you were face to face with a murderer."
"Hardly the first time."
Now she thumped him in earnest, her heart pounding much like it had watching the near-deadly Wild West showdown that had had the idiot tourists gaping avidly, thinking it nothing more than harmless entertainment, devised for their amusement. And they'd had the nerve to boo Carlton after he'd taken down "Stinky Pete," never realizing what he might have just saved them from. Ungrateful bastards.
"It was the first time I ever saw you face to face with a murderer, you idiot. Pete Dillingham was desperate and a crack shot—a dangerous combination."
Carlton snorted in such a typically Carlton way, she was half-relieved and half-tempted to clock him upside the head.
With a crowbar.
"Not even in the same league, sweetheart."
In spite of herself, she laughed, even as she thumped him once more—far more gently. "God, you're a cocky son of a bitch."
A grin that could only be deemed a leer crossed his face ."Well, cocky for sure." One hand dropped to her backside and pulled her lower half tight against his, an unmistakable stirring evident even though his khakis and her jeans. An instant later his hold gentled as his hand sought and found hers. "You were scared for me?"
"God, yes." She tightened her grip, reassured by the rough texture of the callouses on his palm and fingers. Last night, she'd shivered at the feel of those callouses against her skin—this morning, she shivered anew, grateful for the hours spent at the gun range that had produced them. "Then a couple of weeks later, Salamatchia came after you and… and—" A deep breath shuddered through her. "And that was the beginning of the end."
She focused on one of the buttons of his blue-and-white plaid button-down, seeing the translucent white disc as a screen against which a montage of scenes played: Carlton's hand hovering over his weapon, eyes narrowing as he faced Pete Dillingham and possible injury or worse; the sheer fury and determination evident in every line of his body as he informed her he was going after his partner, protocol be damned. The many, many moments in which he'd annoyed her, challenged her, infuriated her, terrified her—even made her laugh.
The growing suspicion in her husband's eyes as she complained about Carlton—how he annoyed her, challenged her, infuriated her, the danger he kept putting himself in. She saw again the many moments of tension that made Iris the only reason she had to not work late every night—that prompted her to start rebuilding those emotional defenses, but only at home and only with him and even so, realizing that the withdrawal didn't hurt anywhere near as much as losing Carlton had. That it didn't hurt anywhere near as much as the moment she realized Carlton had fallen in love with Marlowe.
By then, her marriage was over, her husband having long since confronted her, asking if Carlton was her first husband. Having been expecting the question for some time, she'd been able to answer with reasonable calm that yes, he was. She'd also been able to deny with reasonable calm that anything was currently going on between them and if he harbored the idea he might uncover evidence of any such involvement he might as well give it up, because, he'd come up empty. There simply wasn't anything. Whatever feelings she wrestled with were her own and simply vestiges of what they'd once had.
She'd thought.
His voice was soft, the words hesitant. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You left. I had no reason to think you wanted me. That you'd give a damn I worried for you." She continued staring at that damned button, the first one fastened on his shirt, the fabric above parted, revealing dark hair that beckoned her to rest her forehead on his chest. "Why didn't you?" she asked, her voice muffled by smooth cotton and warm skin.
Beneath her cheek, his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "I didn't think I had any right to." His arms closed around her, a safe haven. A moment later, his fingers brushed her jaw, gently urging her face up. Closing her eyes, she met his kiss with a sigh, relieved to finally be home after so many years spent lost.
At first his kisses were gentle, soothing, then as they went on, took on urgency and intent and Karen couldn't help but feel… possessed. Then they changed yet again, slowing and gentling yet no less possessive. Finally, with a sigh, he drew back, his forehead resting against hers.
"So your ex isn't going to like it." Easing back further, his front teeth emerged for a brief moment to worry his lower lip. Then he tensed, as if squaring his shoulders. "Which leaves your father."
As Karen's breath caught in her throat, Carlton pressed on. "Let me make it clear, I don't give a flying monkey's ass what he thinks about me, but I will not allow him to make you or God forbid, Iris miserable and whatever I need to say to convince him—"
"Carlton."
He paused, holding himself perfectly still. The longer she stayed quiet, however, attempting to gather her thoughts, the more that watchful blue gaze sharpened, the instinct and curiosity that drove him to excel as a detective clearly throwing up all manner of red flags, but still, he held his impatience in check, waiting.
Finally she said, "My father's not going to be a problem."
"Your mother said something similar." His brows lowered and drew together into the dark frown that had driven her mad on far too many occasions. But in this case, she supposed he was entitled. Especially if Mom had intimated Dad wouldn't be an issue. "Karen, what the hell's going on?" An instant later, his expression shifted. "Oh Jesus, is he um… is he—"
She shook her head. "No, baby—he's not dead. Nor are he and Mom divorced."
The line reemerged between his brows. "I am so confused."
"I'm sorry." She smiled faintly. "Look, why don't we go ahead and go and I'll explain on the way."
Surprisingly, he relaxed, dropping a kiss to her forehead with a murmured, "Okay," before rising from the chaise and offering her a hand up. Karen stared , stunned, having expected if not an argument, than at least a bit more of an interrogation. It took until they were in his car, with her behind the wheel, because she said there was somewhere she wanted to stop first, for her to realize his easy acceptance was because he… trusted her.
Once upon a time, he'd trusted her and while she'd known how difficult it was for him, she hadn't recognized it for the gift it was. There was no possible way she could have. Now, after so many years of knowing Detective Lassiter—hardened, paranoid, suspicious, and incredibly distrustful, especially of people—realizing he could put such complete and unquestioning trust in her was a gift.
One almost more precious than anything—other than his love.
Good thing it ran both ways.
She knew he'd made the connection as soon as they drove through the stucco and arched wrought iron gates, but it was clear the full magnitude didn't truly register until they were face to face with her father, a genuinely pleased smile wreathing his face as they approached where he sat in a sunny garden spot overlooking the ocean.
"Karen! I didn't expect to see you today."
She exhaled a relieved sigh. Looked like it was a good day.
Leaning down, she dropped a kiss to his cheek, his skin like warm parchment against her lips. "Hi, Dad. I found myself with some unexpected time and decided to drop by for a quick visit."
His smile broadened. "Well, I can't say I'm not delighted, because of course I am." The smile faded as he hit her with a typically direct brown gaze. "So long as your grades aren't suffering." He patted her arm with a strong hand that only trembled slightly. And that was the bitch of it, wasn't it?
Aside from a slight stoop to his shoulders and back and a smattering of age spots across hands and face, he sat before her, a vibrant picture of health. Except for his memory, failing more with each passing month. It was a rare occasion now when he actually recognized Karen as a woman in her forties, more often than not speaking as if she was still in high school or college. She knew it was only a matter of time, sooner likelier than later, before he failed to recognize her at all. This was why she'd made the snap decision to take this detour and bring Carlton by. It was possible his appearance might upset her father, but she was hoping he wouldn't be able to recall having met him before. And angry as she was with her father's actions—with what he'd done—Carlton was the man she loved. And it was to him she owed this one final meeting.
"My grades are fine, Dad," she reassured him. "Better than fine." Taking the seat beside his, she leaned forward. "Actually, I did have a reason for coming down this weekend." She extended her hand toward Carlton who stood just past the seating area's perimeter. Without hesitation, he took it, holding tight as he stepped forward alongside her chair.
"Dad, I'd like to introduce you to Carlton Lassiter."
Again, she felt herself hit with that direct brown gaze, before it shifted to take Carlton's measure. In that moment Karen felt herself caught in a time warp, feeling Carlton's hand trembling in hers yet he stood straight and tall beneath her father's intense scrutiny, never once flinching. Always so strong and brave, sometimes to the point of stupidity.
But he was getting better. She hoped.
"I take it you two go to school together?"
After a quick glance down—waiting for her nod—he replied easily, "Yes, sir."
Dad's eyes narrowed. "And you're involved."
Before Karen could speak up, Carlton answered, "Yes, sir." After another glance down, his gaze warm and steady, he turned back to her father and added, "Actually, sir, I'm in love with Karen."
A thin, snow-white eyebrow rose. "You'd be a damned fool not to be."
Carlton's hold tightened briefly before he shifted his hand to lace their fingers together. "I can be accused of being a lot of things, Mr. Dunlap, most of them pretty unflattering, but I can assure you, where Karen's concerned, last thing I am is a damned fool."
Karen's jaw dropped as a hoarse bark escaped her father. "You're a bit of a smartass, aren't you? I'll bet Karen likes that about you."
Carlton grinned. "When it's not driving her nuts."
Karen felt herself flush as she was trapped beneath two stares—one deep brown and assessing, the other a steady, brilliant blue.
"So…" Her father's gaze clouded.
"Carlton," Karen gently inserted.
"Of course—Carlton." Relief flashed briefly before he suppressed it beneath the impassive yet somehow still-friendly mask she'd seen take down witnesses time and again over the years. "You'll have to forgive me. Been working a big case. A lot of details. The sort of thing where I almost forget my own name."
"Understood." Carlton took the seat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders, as if understanding how that casual statement just about took her knees out from under her.
"So…" After another brief struggle he settled for, "Young man, what is it you're studying?"
"Criminology, sir."
Her father brightened. "Oh? Any interest in law school?"
"No, sir. I'm looking more to work on the front lines. I'm going to go to the Police Academy after I graduate. Then I intend to get my Master's while I work toward becoming a detective." His glance slid toward Karen as he added. "With any luck, maybe some day I'll even become a head detective."
"Screw luck." Her father pointed an approving finger at Carlton. "That's ambition supported by a well-thought out plan and what's clearly a strong work ethic. I have no doubt you'll achieve all your goals and then some."
Oh, God. It was what she'd wanted—that first time. "He absolutely will, Dad," she said, emotion making the words emerge thin and tremulous. "He's so smart and works so hard."
He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his gaze to her once more. "Sounds familiar, too."
"It is." Looking at Carlton, seeing once again the young, driven boy beneath the patina of the man, she said, "Carlton and I, Dad—our dreams and ambitions are exactly the same. And… we intend to work toward them together." She barely dared to breathe, not sure how he'd greet that declaration. It was one thing for him to react favorably to Carlton, but now they were talking about her dream. And how it had clashed with his dreams for her. There was never any rhyme or reason to the memories or what might trigger their sudden return—or disappearance. Of course, it was equally possible he could blink and wonder why his grown middle-aged daughter was sitting there with a strange man.
"Except I fully expect Karen to become Chief of Police."
Another bark of laughter escaped her father, allowing Karen to breathe a bit easier.
"Not intimidated by a woman potentially holding a position of authority over you?"
Carlton's arm tightened around her. "My strengths are better suited to the field while I think Karen's particular gifts would make her a far better Chief than I could ever be."
Karen felt tears prick the backs of her eyes at Carlton's unhesitating admission. She knew he'd long ago made peace with losing the job he'd once so coveted—even that he'd lost it to her—but this acknowledgment was tantamount to a declaration of love. On a different level, maybe, but no less sweet and meaningful.
"Takes a strong man to make an admission like that."
Karen leaned forward and rested her hand on her father's knee. With Carlton's hand secure and warm on her back she said, "He's the strongest man I know, Daddy. It's why I love him so much."
He smiled—exactly the way she'd so wanted him to smile twenty-five years earlier. A smile that spoke of approval, that communicated acceptance for her and for Carlton—for the two of them together—as he put a hand on her head. "Been a long time since you called me Daddy. Nice to hear it again."
He blinked slowly as if waking from a dream. "But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" He sat back and cocked his head. "Carlton—feels as if it's been an age since I last saw you. How's the job treating you? My girl's not being too much of a hardass, is she?"
The only indication Karen had that Carlton was startled by her father's sudden shift was a slight jerk of his hand on her back. Otherwise, his demeanor remained unchanged as he replied, "No more so than usual, sir." With a wink and a suggestive grin that left her feeling more than a little giddy and lightheaded, he added, "Nothing I can't handle."
His gaze following their silent exchange, Dad smiled and shook his head. "You always were a smartass. Good thing Karen likes that so much about you—otherwise it might make being married and working together real hell. But you two have always managed to make it work."
Karen struggled to keep a neutral smile pasted on her face at her father's matter-of-fact words—as if it was nothing more than the reality they'd all been living with for twenty-five years. Dad's doctor had long since explained the disease was like origami—the memories folding and unfolding in such a way that some recollections intersected with others in ways they never had before. Creating new and intricate shapes. Like a reality in which she and Carlton had remained together for the past twenty-five years.
Carlton's hand settled on the back of her neck, gently urging her to face him. In his gaze, so blue and open in a way it so rarely was in the outside world, she read the steady reassurance on which she'd so often relied over the last seven years laced with the same deep regret she felt over all the years taken from them.
And something more.
The lost years? They'd never get those back. But on the other hand, thanks to the shared ambition that had driven them both so powerfully and maybe more than a little stupid luck, they'd also had several unexpected years together—grown to know each other—in ways they never would have otherwise.
End result? Well… much as she'd loved the boy Carlton, she had to admit she might— maybe…possibly—love the man Carlton had become even more. The likelihood he would have grown into that man had they remained together?
A prediction even the Mayans on their best day wouldn't be able to swing. Not that they had great luck with such things anyway. And for the first time—she was okay with that. Not with the Mayans. She could give a rat's ass about them and their Oreo calendars. No… for the first time she could honestly say she was okay with her life and Carlton's life and the twists and turns they'd taken.
So long as she got to love the man Carlton was now and share the rest of her life seeing who they'd become together, she was okay with all of it. Even the damned Mayans.
"Dad," she said gently. "We need to get on home now."
"Okay." He blinked owlishly, any recognition having completely faded. "You take care," he added vaguely. He looked between her and Carlton, brows drawn together, the gears of that once powerful brain clearly struggling to work, his mouth thinning.
Gathering himself, he sat up straighter, drawing a cloak of authority around himself as he addressed Carlton. "You make sure to take care of her," he said brusquely, smart enough to recognize they were together—that Karen was someone of importance to both of them, even if he couldn't quite place why or how.
Carlton stood and slowly extended his hand, waiting for her father to take it in his then very carefully covered it with his other hand, his strong and capable, enclosing her father's more visibly fragile one.
"I will, sir." He turned his head to meet her gaze, his voice dropping to an intimate timbre that wrapped around her with the strength and security of an embrace.
"Until the day I die."