Lynnette Kent - Now That You're Here

Everyone…including Jimmy.

JIMMY STRAIGHTENED, dropped his hands to his sides and took a few breaths to get control of his voice. “Lose the gun, Tomas. The police are on their way.”

A siren in the distance backed him up. Some of the regulars on the street had noticed the commotion and were coming to investigate. Just what they needed—more targets.

“Go to hell,” the boy snarled. “These bastards were gonna kill us.” He pointed the gun at the guy sitting on his friend’s back. “Get off him. Now.” The man hesitated, then jerked at the sound of the hammer being pulled back. “Or I’ll blow you off.”

With a final shove at his captive’s shoulders, the creep scrabbled onto the sidewalk and backed up, crabwise, against the building.

Tomas nodded his approval. “Good idea. Now you—” he turned to the man with the knife “—drop the friggin’ knife before I friggin’ shoot your hand off. Good. You okay, Harlow?”

The other boy staggered to his feet, wiping blood off his face. “I’m okay.”

Jimmy could see Emma staring out the car window behind Tomas, her eyes wide with shock and, probably, terror. He started to sweat, thinking what a bullet could do to the thin shield of glass. “Nothing’s going to happen now, Tomas. Put the weapon away.”

As Harlow limped up beside the Indian boy, blue lights flashed at the corner. “Come on, Tommy. You want to keep that piece, you’d better stash it before the cops see you carrying.” He glanced at Jimmy, his eyebrow quirked. “Mr. Falcon’s not gonna give us away, right?”

“I didn’t see a gun…unless I count to five and it’s still in his hand.”

Tomas dropped the pistol into a pocket of his camouflage jacket just as a department vehicle pulled up behind the Jag. A couple of uniforms Jimmy didn’t know got out, each with a hand on his weapon and the other hand holding his stick.

Great. This explanation would have gone down easier with somebody he’d worked beside. “Evening, Officers.”

The taller one just looked him over. “What’s going on?”

“These guys jumped us in the alley.” Tomas spoke before anybody else could. “Practically killed us with that knife there.” He kicked the weapon with his toe.

“Sure.” The cop looked back at Jimmy. “Who are you?”

“Jimmy Falcon. I own The Indigo.” He nodded toward the nightclub. “I was about to take a friend home when these guys rolled out of the alley. I stayed to keep the numbers even.”

Finally the outlaws on the ground got their share of attention. The shorter cop glanced at Harlow. “You say these three attacked you?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t, like, attack first?” He began to sound bored. “What were you doing in the alley, anyway?”

Both Harlow and Tomas cut their gazes Jimmy’s way. “Just hanging out,” Harlow said in his Texas-flavored accent. “That ain’t a crime.”

“Uh-huh. You buying or selling?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

The shorter cop pushed at one of the thugs with the toe of his boot. “This one’s out cold.” Bending over, he patted down the body. “Don’t think he’s carrying anything besides a pack of gum.”

“Check out the rest of them,” his partner ordered.

The other two dealers gave up bags of coke and weed, and a couple of dimes of heroin. Jimmy saw Harlow swallow hard as the small plastic sacks dropped into an evidence container.

Two minutes later the Saturday-night special was out in the open again. The short cop balanced it on his palm. “Nice toy. You got a permit, son?”

Tomas told the cop what he could do with the permit.

Using a speed and expertise Jimmy remembered from his days on the force, the cops slammed Harlow and Tomas up against the side of the police cruiser, patted them down again and cuffed them.

Emma sprang out of the Jag like a lioness in the African bush. “Don’t be so rough! They’re only boys!”

Jimmy caught her arm and pulled her back. “Stay out of it, Emma. These guys know what they’re dealing with. You don’t.” Another police car pulled up, and the three pushers, who—Jimmy had reason to know—had been in and out of jail for years, got their own sets of bracelets.

Emma turned on Jimmy. “I saw them earlier tonight as I was coming to see you. They were hungry. They’re young and homeless. They need help, not more violence.”

The cops exchanged derisive grins.

“They’re drug addicts.” With a hand on each of her arms, Jimmy pulled her farther away from the scene. “The whole mess is about selling and buying drugs. Let the police sort it out.”

She struggled against his grip. “How do you know that?”

“Because they hang around here a lot. Because they hit on me and my customers…” He watched her cheeks flush. “Damn. You gave them money.”

“I told them to get something to eat!”

“We did, too,” Harlow called. “Meat loaf and potatoes and corn. Thanks, lady.” A cop shoved him into the cruiser and closed the door before he could say anything else.

Yet a third cop strolled over. “You’re Falcon?”

“Yeah. This is Emma Garrett.” He released her, reluctantly. “She called in the incident from the car.”

“What’s going to be done with those boys?” Emma wanted to know. “Where are you taking them?”

“Detention.” The officer—his name tag said Havers—made a note on his pad.

“Jail?” Her voice squeaked on the single syllable.

Jimmy put a hand on her back, trying to give comfort. “They’ll have a bed for the night, Emma. And a decent breakfast. They’ll be okay.”

She gazed at him, disbelief written in the lines between her eyebrows. “Does this happen often?”

“It’s a tough neighborhood,” Havers said. “We’re taking your word for what happened, Mr. Falcon, mostly because we ran you through the computer and found out you’re an ex-cop.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’ll want to be available in case we have more questions.”

Jimmy shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Havers nodded. “Thanks for the help.”

In another few minutes, the cruisers took off and the sight-seers went back to their regular business, whatever it was. Jimmy put a hand to Emma’s jaw. Under smooth skin, the muscles were tight. “Let me take you to your hotel.” With a sigh, she slipped past him into the seat, and he caught a whisper of that new scent—some kind of flower he didn’t recognize, but wanted more of. While he buckled his seat belt, her fingers stroked the curve of the dash, her skin pale against the black leather and dark wood.

He blew out a short tense breath. “Where are you staying?”

She directed him to a hotel in a better part of town, near City Park. When he pulled to a stop at the entrance, neither of them moved or spoke for a measurable time. They turned to look at each other at the same instant.

Jimmy breathed in that perfume and said the first thing that came to mind. “That was some summer, twenty years ago. Every time I think about it, I have to smile. Nothing bad about goodbye, nothing to regret. The end was there in the beginning—you left for school in England and I…got on with life.”

Emma nodded, and the corners of her mouth curved up. “It does seem strange to think that we didn’t break up or get bored. So few relationships end painlessly.” Regret claimed her face again.

“I figured you’d be married by now, with a couple of kids in boarding school.”

“Boarding school is the last place I’d send my children. If I had any.”

He reached out, stroked his knuckles down her cheek, touched by the note of sadness in her voice. The pad of his thumb lingered at the corner of her mouth, waiting to test texture and shape. A kiss was not a good idea. They hardly knew each other anymore.