Aussie Rules

Chapter 26

For the first time in memory, Mel’s inner alarm clock didn’t go off and she overslept. By the time she entered North Beach, she was fifteen minutes late and found herself the target of a handful of gazes, all staring at her in shock.

“What?” she asked a bit defensively to everyone sitting around the café bar still eating their donuts. “I’m a little late, so what?”

“Two times in as many weeks,” Char said, concern all over her face.

“Yeah, did hell freeze over?” Kellan asked.

Ritchie snickered, then sucked it in at the glare from Mel, who grabbed a donut and lifted her chin. “So I slept in, no biggie.” On second thought, this was a two-donut morning, and she snatched another, double-fisting, before stalking off to her office.

Neither the lemon pastry nor the jelly-filled donut appeased the hole in her gut. She sat at her desk organizing her flight schedule, trying not to think about last night in Bo’s arms, and how for one glorious moment she’d completely lost herself in him. She also tried not to think about the day before, flying to Mexico to find Sally, finding instead more information that had only made her feel worse, and then nearly getting shot in the process…

Tried not to think about any of it…

It didn’t help that as the day passed, she realized something else. Morale seemed to be up at North Beach, and bad attitudes down. People were happy. Content. Char was singing at the top of her lungs to Bon Jovi. Nothing new, but she’d hugged everyone three or four times today already. Al, out of the dog house, had sold some photos, and also had a gallery interested in his work.

Oh, and Dimi was smiling. Smiling, answering phones, charming customers…

Mel would have suspected alcohol but she knew Dimi had given it up.

Even Kellan and Ritchie seemed different. They’d been on time and awake. A miracle in itself.

And then there was Ernest. He hadn’t moaned, groaned, complained, or so much as set a spider jar on her desk, not once the entire day. And he’d even offered to bring her lunch.

She’d nearly fallen off her own chair at that one. Ernest, offering his own money up for lunch.

How was it possible that everyone around her was getting cheery again, feeling excited and hopeful, and she’d lost all taste for it?

Oh, yeah. Because Bo Black was going to walk out of her life.

Shortly after noon, Char popped into Mel’s office.

Mel’s nose twitched at the delicious-smelling something in Char’s hands, and perked up slightly. “I hope it’s carbo-loaded.”

Char set down a tuna melt, with the cheese and tuna squeezing out the sides of the thick French bread. “For you? Always.”

Mel took a bite and moaned. “You are a goddess.”

“Yeah. A pregnant one.”

Mel stared at her as the food stuck in her throat. “What?”

Char sank into a chair and put her hands on her belly. “Got myself knocked up. Think Al’s going to kill me?”

“If it’s the delivery boy’s.”

Char laughed, but grew serious quickly. “He’s going to think I did this on purpose, but I didn’t. Remember last month, when we went camping?”

“You mean when you guys went for the overnighter specifically to ‘do it in the woods’? Yes, I distinctly remember the feeling of my brain matter coming out my ears as you told me how great it was.”

“We got carried away before using a condom.” Char sighed. “But these things happen.”

Mel thought of yesterday, and how after facing down that gun in their faces, she and Bo had pulled over on some deserted Mexican road, and right there in the heat and the dust had ravished each other in order to remember they were alive.

They’d gotten carried away as well. “Yeah. These things happen,” Mel said weakly. Oh, God. What if it happened to her, too? “I thought you were getting hot flashes. Doesn’t that mean you’re done with all this stuff?”

“Apparently not.” Char smiled. “Look, we’re married. We have a decent home and we love each other. Now we’ll have something to show for that love, that’s all.” She paused. “Did that sound good, or did I rush it?”

“Depends on Al’s mood.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s a good one.”

“So, you happy?” Mel asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Mel hugged her tight. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Char patted her still-flat belly. “Thanks, honey. Hey, you notice Dimi skipping around this morning? She didn’t even light her candles or incense. And she was smiling. She looks so pretty when she smiles. Anyway, I’d say she must have gotten lucky, but you know what? I think in her case, it’s the opposite. I think she’s finally learning to make herself happy.” Char leaned in and hugged Mel. “One down, now only one to go.”

Mel frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You, honey. I mean you. You have to learn to make yourself happy.” And then she left Mel alone to wonder how exactly to do that.

At the end of the day, Dimi buzzed Mel in her office. “Line one,” she said. “It’s him.”

Mel stared at her phone as if it was a coiled rattlesnake. She didn’t have to ask who. It was Matt, with possible news on Sally.

“Tell me exactly what he says,” Dimi instructed. “Every word.”

“I will.”

“Unless it’s bad news. Oh, God, do you think it’s bad news?”

“Bad in comparison to what, Dimi?”

“Right.” Dimi drew a ragged breath. “Right. Maybe…I know this sounds crazy, but maybe he’s calling to tell us he found out it’s all some sort of mistake.”

Mel had no hopes left, false or otherwise. “What kind of mistake involves taking money and property that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Yeah,” Dimi sighed. “Wishful thinking and all that.”

“I’m going to take the call now,” Mel said gently. “I’ll just buzz you when I’m off-”

Before she’d even finished her sentence, Dimi opened Mel’s office door and slid inside, breathing heavily. “Well?”

“Uh, I haven’t taken the call yet,” Mel said dryly, then clicked over. “Mel Anderson. Can I help you?”

“How many aliases for Sally are you expecting?” Matt asked.

“Well?” Dimi whispered. “Is she alive?”

Mel held up her finger. “As many as you can find, Matt.”

“I’ve unearthed four without any effort,” he said. “I’m not a betting man, but you can be sure if it was this easy, there are more.”

Four aliases, minimum. If there’d been only the one, someone could make the argument that Sally had had a good reason for vanishing under a different name. Fear, danger…

But four.

Four.

“There’s more,” Matt said. “The last alias on record, Tara Louise? She was married for two years to a man who just recently died in New Orleans. Suspiciously. She’s wanted for questioning but has vanished.”

Mel gripped her phone tight. “Oh, my God.”

A man dead.

Until Bo had arrived, Mel had faced only a moral dilemma. Yes, Sally had vanished, but she hadn’t done anything to Mel, at least nothing criminal. So what right did she have to dig?

But now…Now there were many reasons; for the rights of the victims, for one.

For Bo’s father.

For Bo himself.

The thought came out of nowhere. Mel wanted answers for Bo, for that eighteen-year-old who’d lost so much, for the man who’d never lost his belief in his father.

And then there was the fact that Sally had instructed Mel and Dimi to act criminally without their knowledge.

“Melanie?” Matt asked. “You there?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll get back to you.” She hung up and stared at the phone.

“Four aliases?” Dimi sounded as dazed as she felt, and staggered to a chair. “Four,” she said again, stunned.

“Maybe more,” Mel told her. “Probably more. And let’s not forget the coup de grâce: an ex, dead under suspicious circumstances.”

“Two,” Dimi whispered. “Two ex’s dead, if you count Eddie. Do you think…my God…Do you think she somehow killed Eddie?”

It was too terrible to even think about. “We have to face facts right now, Deem,” Mel said, her voice trembling. “Together. Sentiment doesn’t have a place here. Sally’s in big trouble and we both know we can no longer help her. But we can help the people she’s hurt.”

Dimi reached for Mel’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not falling apart. And I’m all yours, at least for the duration of this disaster.”

“For the duration? That sounds a little…temporary.”

“Yeah.” Dimi stared at their joined hands. Hers were smaller, more delicate, with a perfect manicure and silver bracelets lined up her left wrist, jangling prettily. “You remember I told you about wanting to be a nurse.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve decided to go to a nursing school and the one I want to go to is in San Diego. I’ve registered, just today. Classes start in the fall.”

Just two months away. “I see.”

“Do you?” She scooted closer. “Do you really, Mel? You’re not mad, upset, freaking out? Because I freaked out at first, the thought of leaving here, of being separated from you, but it’s just…” She paused, her eyes misting. “Damn it, I don’t want to cry.”

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” One tear escaped and with a sound of frustration, she swiped at it. “But I’ll be back. I want to work out of the hospital in town, only ten minutes away. That won’t be so bad.”

“It’ll be good,” Mel assured her, and they hugged hard, Mel feeling her own eyes go damp. “Shit.”

They laughed a little over the waterworks, then Dimi spoke. “See, so I’m not leaving you for long. Or Danny.”

“Danny?”

“We’re going to try things out.” She smiled with her entire heart in her eyes. “It’ll be from a distance at first, but that’s okay. I need the time.”

“You and Danny?” Mel repeated, surprised.

Dimi’s face closed a bit, her shoulders straightened. “I’m not going to hurt him, I wouldn’t do that. Why do you think I resisted facing the truth about my feelings so long? The last thing I’d ever do is hurt-”

“Oh, honey, I’m not worried about him. He’s a big boy, and he knows what he wants. I meant you. I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be. I’m a little fragile, I know, but like I said, I need some time.” Dimi shook her head. “What Sally did sucks, and it hurts…” She pressed a hand to her gut. “Hurts like I didn’t know I could be hurt. But with Danny, I just feel…alive. Like I haven’t felt in a long time.” Her eyes were clear. Happy. “Whatever happens,” she said with intense pride, “I know I’m going to be okay.”

Mel nodded, understanding perfectly. She felt alive, too, vibrantly alive, and she had a feeling it had something to do with Bo. Everything to do with Bo. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, and they held each other for a long time. Mel didn’t want to let go. For as long as she could remember, they’d been a team. A duo.

But it was the end of an era, and that was okay. Things changed. She’d live. When Dimi was gone, Mel stared sightlessly out at the tarmac, wondering what their future held. She’d always assumed that for her, it would be this place. North Beach.

Now…who knew?

“Looking pretty serious, mate.”

Mel’s heart clutched. Her everything clutched as she turned and faced Bo. “What would you know about serious?”

With a cocked eyebrow, he shut her office door behind him and leaned back against it, arms and feet casually crossed as he smiled at her. “You’re uptight again.”

“Let me guess. You have just the cure?”

“You know it.”

“Doesn’t thinking with your dick ever get tiring?”

“Oh, I do more than think with it.”

Yep. And no one knew that better than she. “I’m busy. You need to get out.” She rubbed her temples and remembered the reason. Matt had called. She had to tell Bo. She owed him. “Damn it, I have to tell you something.”

The amusement was gone in a blink. “What’s wrong?”

She laughed a bit harshly, and he frowned just as her computer beeped. Incoming mail. She glanced at it, then went still.

Bo took one look at her face and moved close. “Another one, then?”

Standing behind her as he was, he surrounded her, a hand on either side, gripping her desk. His chest brushed her back. His jaw was so close to her head that a strand of her hair stuck to the day-old growth of stubble there. She craned her neck so that her gaze met his. “A new one.” She could have hidden it, but no more secrets-well, except one. But she doubted he wanted to hear how much she’d gotten used to having him around. How much she’d begun to feel for him.

Want him.

“Is this the first e-mail since the last one you showed me?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

His gaze scanned her face. Looking for honesty, no doubt, but then he let out a breath. “Either you’re getting better at lying, or I’m going soft on you, but I actually believe you.”

“You’re…going soft on me?”

“Jesus, Mel, you can’t tell?”

“I like words,” she said carefully. “There’s less misunderstanding with words.”

He opened his mouth, but before her eyes, his own shuttered, and his smile was strained and humorless. “You’re trying to distract me from your incoming mail.”

“I’m not.”

“Prove it. Show it to me.”

“I will. But you should know, Matt just called me. He unearthed four more aliases for Sally. The last one, the most recent…She was married, but her husband died. Suspiciously.”

They looked at each other. “Now Sally’s wanted for questioning,” she added softly, and clicked on the new e-mail, gasping at who it was from: Tara Louise.

“Let me guess,” Bo said grimly. “One of those aliases is Tara Louise. Probably the one with the dead husband.”

“Bingo, you win the prize,” Mel murmured, still in shock.

“If it’s you on a platter, count me in.”

“This is serious, Bo.”

“Yes, I’m serious as a heart attack. Mel, look at me.”

She lifted her head. He was close enough to kiss. Close enough to look into his eyes and see the utter honesty there for her to take. He wanted her. But she already knew that much, he’d made it abundantly clear. Her body mesmerized him.

Well, they were even there.

The problem? More than just his body mesmerized her. Yeah, don’t go there. She leaned in to read the e-mail, but cupped her face and held her gaze.

“We’re scaring her. You know that.”

“She can join the club, then.”

He slid his fingers into the hair at her temple, his eyes unusually solemn. “She’s on the run, she’s scared and she’s pissed. She’s going to blame us. Me, I’m more than ready for the face-off. You-”

“She won’t hurt me.”

“Mel, she’s threatening you. She’s threatening you because of me, because I came back and dug all this up. I’m the catalyst, not you.”

“No-”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said fiercely.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, she’s long gone now.” With that, Mel clicked open the e-mail.

Dear Mel,

I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry for every-fucking-thing. But please, if you ever cared about me at all, even a fraction of what I feel for you, please stop trying to trace me. Please, Mel. Save my life. Stop trying to find me.

Love,

Me

Bo leaned in farther, his jaw actually brushing her as his fingers pushed hers aside and started clicking on the keyboard.

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he opened her browser, and pasted something from the e-mail on to the page. Then his fingers were clicking over the keys, far faster than she could type, and she couldn’t follow what he was doing.

“Fuck,” he said softly, and straightened away from her.

“What?” she asked, but he was already running. Leaping up, she grabbed ahold of his shirt at the door. “Bo.”

“That e-mail,” he grated out. “It came from within the airport. It came from one of your computers right here on the premises.”