RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION Page 12

  “Squashed toes.” Tommy giggled and squatted down to check Royal’s feet, poking at each one. “Nope. Not smashed.” He gave Royal a grin of pure mischief. And relief.

  The boy’s too-quick apology disturbed Royal. The mother’s haunted eyes and drawn face disturbed him. Everything about Elly Malloy Scanlon whoever - the - hell - she - was disturbed him, and he wasn’t going to be able to walk away from her and her kid, who decided to drape himself companionably across Royal’s thighs, balancing on one leg and swaying from side to side.

  Elly had done the same thing. Last night. One palm cupped around her neck, one around her son’s, Royal shot her a glance.

  Her face was pale and tired and, in the morning light, plain, stripped of its sparkle and sass. He could see now more clearly than ever the strain in her features, the depth of her exhaustion, and if he’d had Blake Scanlon in front of him, he would have smashed the man’s thin-lipped face to pulp.

  Maybe Elly had faked her death. Maybe she had kidnapped Scanlon’s son. Her son.

  And maybe she hadn’t.

  Reaching down, Royal swung Tommy up to his shoulders, managing to stifle an unmanly whimper of pain. “Let’s give your mom some privacy. I’ll bet I can find some eggs in that kitchen. Or cereal.” He’d be double-damned if he’d let the kid know how much his muscles and ribs screamed at the effort. Not this kid.

  And with Elly’s son on his shoulders, Royal rose awkwardly from her bed, where the rumpled sheets smelled of her sweetness, and he turned to look at her, to say only that he’d see her in a few moments. In response, she lifted her pointed chin and regarded him steadily with lost, brave eyes.

  *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Wearing that bright flag of her bravery and courage, Elly Malloy was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. He’d tried not to care about her. He told himself he didn’t. He couldn’t. But if he’d had a heart left, it would have broken in that instant.

  He couldn’t face her, not knowing what he knew, not suspecting what he suspected. He’d done the unthinkable, and he couldn’t change anything, not about himself, not about the decisions he’d made. If she knew, she would despise him.

  He retreated into the ordinary events of the day. Life had, after all, a rhythm that carried people forward even when they couldn’t find the strength to paddle on their own. “Eggs or cereal, Elly?”

  “Neither, thank you. I’m not hungry.” Her hair fluttered and sifted around her wan face as she shook her head.

  How he could have thought her plain for an instant, Royal couldn’t imagine. Scrutinizing the colorless delicacy of her face, the curve of her spine, he decided that plain had never been the right word. Short on vitality and energy, she had the spare loveliness of a seashell lying silver on the sand in the moonlight: a muted curve of shape and sleekness veiled in darkness.

  “You need to eat.” He resisted the impulse that urged him to smooth her hair back, tuck her head against his chest and let her rest in his arms. “I know you didn’t eat last night.” The words slipped out, and he hoped she didn’t pick up on them. If she did, he’d have to lie again so that she wouldn’t know he’d been watching outside her window, and he didn’t want to lie to her this morning. He was becoming increasingly reluctant to play cat and mouse with Elly Malloy. And that, more than anything, threw him off balance and made him feel as if he were losing control. “Tommy and I are reasonably competent males. We can manage to pull breakfast together without you. Guys can function in a kitchen, you know. Right, squirt?”

  “Yep.” Tommy patted Royal’s head, carefully avoiding the butterfly bandage he’d spotted. “See? I did not hurt you.”

  “See, Elly?” Royal smiled at her. “We can manage. Your son’s not going to destroy me in fifteen minutes. Stay here. We’ll bring you food.”

  “In bed!” Tommy half bounced, then closed his eyes blissfully. “Like a party! All of us. And Baby Whale.”

  Elly gathered the sheet up close around her. “No, please. It would be a waste of food. I couldn’t eat a bite. I’ll fix breakfast for you two. And you shouldn’t be carrying Tommy, Royal. He’s too heavy for you right now—”

  “Am not.” Tommy bounced on Royal’s shoulders, and Royal saw Elly wince in sympathy. “Am not, am not, am not,” Tommy chanted. “Giddap, horsey.” He thumped his heels against Royal’s chest.

  If he could have, Royal would most definitely have giddapped. “Tommy! Stop that this instant.” Elly’s voice had a level of command that made Royal recall the voices of any number of military-school martinets he’d been subjected to during his early years. With a stern look at both Royal and Tommy, she said, “Royal’s … sore this morning. Remember his bandages? His bruises?”

  “Yep.” Tommy toppled forward to peer into Royal’s face. With one finger, he lifted the swollen area near Royal’s eye. “Pretty colors,” he said admiringly as he traced the outline of the scrapes and bruises.

  Royal figured the terror would request his own set of multicolored bruises.

  “You can’t roughhouse with Royal, Tommy. I mean it.”

  “‘Kay.” Perched on Royal’s shoulders, Tommy went so still that Royal was afraid the kid wasn’t breathing.

  “You can move, Tommy. I’ll let you know if I’m hurting. I’m not half as bad as I look.” Royal directed his comment to Elly. He didn’t want her protecting him. Last night, he’d needed her tenderness. He’d had fuzzy, pill-induced dreams of her hair floating over his face, of her hands drifting down his body like cool snowflakes easing a burning fever.

  Last night, he’d let her take care of him. Last night, she’d been in control, not him. She’d been in control of his body, of his dreams, of some core part of him that he wasn’t ready to relinquish.

  But not today. Today would be different.

  He stood up, Tommy wobbling on his shoulders.

  “Wait!” The sheet bunched around her shoulders, Elly hesitated.

  Swinging Tommy off his shoulders and to the floor, Royal hustled Tommy into the kitchen before Elly could marshal her objections. Opening cabinets, Royal searched until he found everything he needed. Tommy climbed up and down a metal two-step ladder, fetching and carrying and bumping into Royal’s legs every time he turned.

  “Thanks, squirt.” Royal took the box of high-fiber cereal and ripped open the opaque wax wrapping.

  “No problem.” Tommy scooted the ladder over to a tall, two-doored cupboard. “The sugar’s way up here. I can get it.” On the top step, he turned too fast.

  Stretching out an arm, Royal caught him as the ladder skidded east and Tommy flew west.

  “Whoa, kid. This isn’t a launching pad.” Deciding it was safer all around for both of them, Royal settled Tommy back on his shoulders and went about the business of finding food. Puttering around Elly’s kitchen with her son using his shoulders as a drum, Royal filled a kettle with water, found cups and bowls and found himself whistling even when an enthusiastic thump of Tommy’s left heel landed against a deep bruise. “Easy with the feet, guy,” he cautioned.

  “Sorry.” Tommy grabbed Royal’s ears for security and peered into his face. “I hurted you again?”

  “Nah. I’m a wuss. Whine, whine and complain. That’s me. Wuss of the week.”

  “Are not.”

  “Am, too.” Royal reached up and tapped Tommy’s nose. “Don’t argue with your elders, brat.”

  “What’s a brat?” Thump, thump, thumpety-thump went his heels against Royal’s collarbone.

  “You, if you don’t quit using me for a kickboard.” Royal captured a bare toe and suppressed a groan. “These are lethal weapons, kid.”

  Tommy giggled. “Yep. I can scuba and karate and I used to play the piano and I helped Mommy when— Oops.” Letting go of Royal’s ears, Tommy clapped his hands over his mouth.

  “Yeah, well, we’ve all ‘oopsed’ once or twice in our lives, kid.” Marveling at his discretion, Royal fired up the old gas stove an
d put the kettle to boil. He’d shamelessly used Leesha’s friendship, yet he was drawing the line at pumping the kid for information, ignoring a golden opportunity to fill in the blanks in what he already knew about Ms. Elly with her lost, brave eyes.

  Hell’s bells. He was developing a conscience in his old age. That explained the pinching and pain in the region of his heart. Passing up a chance for information? Hell.

  Obviously, Armageddon was right around the corner.

  Banged up, beat up and with a five-year-old whomping away at his aching chest, he should have felt meaner than a snake. He didn’t. The swamp-nasty ugliness that had been living in him for months had vanished overnight, and he felt freer than he had in months. Amused? He didn’t know. There was just this lightness sliding slow and easy through him. It took him a few minutes to identify the feeling, and when he did, he stopped short, sending Tommy bobbing up against him.

  He was happy.

  “Well, I’ll be a son of bitch,” Royal whispered, amazed. Happy.

  “You sweared.” Tommy tilted forward and put his hand over Royal’s mouth. “I do, too. But I get sent to my room. I won’t tell Mommy you said a dirty swear. ‘Cause we’re going to the rodeo, right?”

  “Thanks,” Royal muttered, “but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t keep secrets from your mom.” He felt as if the kid was pulling a fast one, trading silence on the dirty swears in return for a guaranteed trip to the rodeo. Tommy Lee clearly had a future as a businessman. Or a scam artist.

  And he liked the goofy little squirt, damned if he didn’t. Like his mom, the kid was worming his way under Royal’s skin. Not a good sign. Royal knew he was going to have to do something about that.

  But not just yet.

  “Come on, Tommy. Grab that tray.” Royal pointed to a heavy plastic pizza castle souvenir. In the short time he’d been in her house, he’d noticed Elly was real short on accessories. Real short on permanent kinds of belongings. “Throw a couple of pieces of toast on that saucer, and we’re all set.” Royal stooped to Tommy’s eye level. “I’ll carry the tea. You can haul the tray. Okay?”

  “Works for me.” Tommy took the tray with both hands and, tray tipping dangerously from side to side, led the way to the bedroom.

  Sighing, Royal recognized the echo of his own words. Kids. They didn’t have a lick of sense. They’d imitate anybody, no judgment at all. Good thing God made kids so cute. To survive, they needed every advantage they could get. He was beginning to reach the conclusion that Tommy Lee especially needed a helping hand if he was going to survive in the world around him. Damned little coot.

  Royal frowned as they headed in a procession of two back down the hall to the bedroom. Elly was supposed to protect the kid all on her own? Not likely. She thought she was on top of everything. She wasn’t. She didn’t have a clue.

  It wasn’t his concern, Royal reminded himself grimly. Not his problem. His job was to do what he had to do. The die had been cast, wheels set in motion—it was a done deal. Whatever happened afterward was none of his business. He’d told himself that originally, and nothing had changed that fact. If he had to remind himself every hour that the status was still quo, he would.

  Nothing had changed the facts. Not Elly’s kiss, and certainly not the sight of her in a spring-pink dress that looked like spun sugar. Nope. He was on guard, ready, prepared to resist the lure of her in that dress that buttoned to the neck and cupped the curves of her slight breasts. Above the short line of pink hem, her kneecaps gleamed in the sunlight like satin.

  She wasn’t wearing stockings.

  “Here.” Royal handed her a cup of heavily sugared hot tea. He’d half expected to trip over her on the way back to the bedroom, but she was sitting on the stripped bed, hands clasped between her knees. He placed the cup in her hands. In spite of the heat, her hands were cold. “It’s not poison. Drink it, Elly.”

  Her head jerked up. She nodded slowly and took a sip. “Thanks.” Holding the cup clasped in both hands, she drank steadily and silently, as though finishing the sticky-sweet tea were a chore she’d assigned herself, and by God, she would drink every last drop.

  Setting the tray on the stained, lumpy mattress, Tommy climbed up beside her. Picking at a piece of toast, he rubbed his head against her arm until she raised it, draping it across his shoulders while she proceeded resolutely to finish the tea.

  Royal began to wish he’d brought a smaller cup, but he’d seen only four cups in her cabinet, not much choice there. The house was clearly a furnished rental. He gave Tommy a glass half-filled with juice.

  “Nice crystal, Elly.” Royal pointed to the cartoon characters cavorting around the glass that had come from a local fast-food emporium.

  “The best.” She swallowed. A drop of tea glimmered on her chin, and she absentmindedly rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

  Her chin would be sticky. Sweet to the taste.

  “Yeah, I noticed you had a complete set.” Royal leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He needed a shirt. Walking around Elly’s bedroom wearing nothing but his worse-for-the-wear slacks and a pressure bandage felt kinky.

  Probably because she was so buttoned up, so dressed. Except for her bare legs.

  He figured she’d covered up to send him a message … and he got the message, loud and clear.

  But all those shiny little buttons, like some kind of fake pearl, one after the other, marching all the way from her throat to her knees. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking of the tiny button at the base of her throat. She couldn’t have realized how that little sucker drew his gaze again and again to that indentation of her throat, to the swell of her breasts. He searched desperately for a topic of conversation. “All four glasses, huh? I’m impressed. Set you back much?”

  “All my life’s savings.” She drained the last of the tea, looked around for someplace to set the cup. “Tommy wanted them. And I like them. So don’t be a snob.” She lifted her chin challengingly, the first sign of vitality she’d shown since waking up.

  “Hey, they’re swell.” He lifted his hands in surrender.

  “And don’t be snippy.”

  “Whoa, there, little lady. Guys are never snippy. Snippy’s a girly-girl word. It’s got no macho, Elly.” Royal smiled at her, intrigued with the way Tommy’s eyes shifted from Elly to him and back again, taking everything in as they teased. The kid wasn’t used to teasing. “A guy’s got to have a testosterone kind of word. Like snotty or—”

  “Boogers,” Tommy offered helpfully, sneaking a glance at Royal.

  “Yeah, that’s a good one.” From the corner of his eye, Royal caught the faint movement of Elly’s lips. She’d almost smiled.

  “Okay. Enough’s enough. Both of you. Boogers, for pete’s sake.” Her smile wavered on her lips, and finally blossomed into a mischievous grin that transformed her. She stood up, cup still in hand and gestured to Royal. “You’re a terrible influence.”

  “I know.” He took the cup and turned toward the door. Looking around the room with its stripped bed, he bent and scooped out the suitcase shoved behind the door. “Going on a trip, Elly?”

  It was the first time he’d seen her speechless.

  She fumbled, hemmed, hawed. Her feet even twitched, “I use it for storage. This place is short on closet space. I keep extra clothes in it. Winter stuff. Sweaters. You know. Storage.”

  Tommy’s squeak would have given her away if her own hesitations hadn’t.

  “Interesting decorating technique.” Casually surveying the room, noting the absence of personal touches, the lack of a dresser or chest with the usual feminine arsenal of perfumes and lipsticks, Royal could see how she could be out of the house in a matter of minutes if she had to. The woman was prepared; that was for sure. “Find the minimalist look to your taste, do you?”

  “Some of us have to watch our money more carefully than others.” She stared pointedly at the leather belt he’d found neatly rolled this morning in his shoes. “Some of
us can’t throw money around like confetti.”

  “Low blow, Elly. Told you, sweetheart, I’m broke these days. Lucky if I can scrape two pennies together.”

  “I know what you said.” She crossed her arms. “And I believe you. Sort of. But, ex-Detective, you look like old money, and you dress like a man who’s never watched a penny in his life.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Elly.” He shook his head in admiration. “You don’t let anyone walk over you.”

  She blanched.

  Royal could have kicked himself. He hadn’t meant anything with his comment. He truly did admire her grittiness. But hers was a history he could only guess at, and he’d been careless, sculling along on the smooth surface of teasing. “Like you said last night, you’re a tough cookie.” Deliberately, he looked her up and down, letting his gaze roam from button to button and back up again, before letting it settle on that top button that was driving him crazy. Putting all the sizzle he could into the lift of his eyebrow, he gave her a slow smile that hinted of other things they’d both said and done last night. “Nice outfit, cookie.”

  Her face flushed as pink as her dress. “Devil.”

  “Royal’s not a devil. He’s my friend.” Tommy bounced off the bed and threw his arms around Royal’s leg, squeezing hard.

  “And Beau told Leesha Royal was the best damned cop—”

  “Tommy Lee!” Elly’s appalled gasp almost made Royal laugh, but he squelched it fast and quick.

  Tommy stopped and buried his face into Royal’s pants leg. “Oops.”

  “‘Oops’ isn’t the half of it.” Elly swooped down on him and detached him from Royal’s leg. “No swears. You know better. You’re grounded. No rodeo.”

  Tommy’s piteous glance met Royal’s.

  Hell. Royal raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t resist those woeful eyes. “My fault,” Royal said easily. “I slipped this morning and let out a dirty swear, and you’re right, I’m a lousy role model, but shoot, Elly, I promised the kid, and, you know, a promise is a promise. And a swear doesn’t seem serious enough to cancel out the rodeo.” He set the suitcase noisily on the floor. “Whew. Feels like more than sweaters in there, Elly.”