Неизвестный - 2. Beyond The Breakwater

He supposed their closeness made sense, since Bri and Reese were practically cut from the same mold. Stubborn and strong and brave. Hell, they even looked alike…both of them dark-haired with wild blue eyes, almost too handsome to be women. But there was something in Bri’s eyes that he’d never seen in Reese’s—a simmering anger that had begun when she a teenager and that had been fueled by the events of two summers before. Thinking about that summer, something he tried not to do, he winced.

“Nelson? You sure everything’s okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure. You know how twenty-year-olds are. They don’t think much about calling home.”

Reese nodded, knowing there was more but also hesitating to inquire. “If I hear from her, I’ll tell her to report in.”

“No. Forget it,” he said with a wave of his hand. With the other he searched in his desk drawer for a roll of Tums and, after finding a loose one, popped it into his mouth. “She’ll just figure I’m checking up on her.”

At that moment the door opened yet again, and a middle-aged woman entered carrying a shopping bag in one arm. Of average height, she carried an extra twenty-five pounds with aplomb. Her wavy gray hair was tied up in a scarf, and her knit suit was covered with a long down coat. “God, I can’t wait till this winter is over.”

“You’ve got quite a wait there, Gladys,” Nelson said as he smiled at the sheriff department’s office manager.

“Yes, well, I can always hope.” She smiled at both of the officers as she wended her way between the desks toward the large workstation in one corner with the room’s only computer. “You doing anything special tonight, Reese?”

“What?” Reese asked, her mind still on Bri.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, remember? Are you and Tory doing anything?”

“Oh,” Reese said, blushing. Even after two years, she couldn’t quite get used to the easy familiarity of the small town’s local inhabitants. Everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business, and didn’t mind asking for information if they didn’t. “Tory is working in Boston today.”

“Is she still flying over there three days a week?”

Reese nodded. “She doesn’t need to keep the clinic open here full-time during the winter, and she likes doing the emergency room shifts. She says it keeps her current with the newest techniques.”

The phone rang, and Reese picked it up on the second ring.“Sheriff’s department, Conlon.”

“Honey?”

“Tor?” Reese’s heart started pounding double-time. It was rare for Tory to call her at work, particularly when she was working a shift at the Boston City Hospital emergency room. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Tory said hastily. “I just need you to come to Boston.”

“Uh…my shift isn’t up until seven.” Reese hesitated, glancing at the other occupants in the room as she lowered her voice. “Is it, you know, time?”

“That’s what my thermometer says. I’ve talked to Wendy, and she can see us at six.”

By now, both Nelson and Gladys were watching Reese and pretending not to be. She curled over the phone as if that would make some difference. “I’ll get someone to fill in for me.”

“Is everyone listening?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s okay to tell them, you know. It’s not like we’ll be able to keep it a secret.”

“Isn’t it…you know, bad luck or something to talk about it?”

Tory laughed again, and the heat in her voice was almost palpable over the phone line. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Cut it out,” Reese said in a husky murmur. “I’m supposed to be working here.”

“Yeah, well…your services are required elsewhere. Get your butt on a plane, Sheriff.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Reese stood and walked to the coat tree beside the door. She shrugged into her green nylon flight jacket and pulled her brimmed uniform cap down over her eyes in a familiar gesture.

“Is everything okay?” Gladys asked, because she knew that Nelson wouldn’t pry even though he was clearly dying to know what was going on.

“Yes. Perfect.” Reese opened the door, stepped through, and then stuck her head back inside. “I just need to get to Boston so Tory and I can make a baby.”

Grinning, she closed the door on the explosion of surprised questions.

CHAPTER THREE

February Boston, Mass

“Are you two all set?” Wendy Deutsch asked.

Tory, suddenly and inexplicably frightened, glanced at Reese, searching the handsome face as she reached for her hand. Reese…darling? Of course we’re ready, right?

“I love you,” Reese murmured, her entire being focused on Tory. “I will always love you.”

And that was the ultimate truth, and the ultimate answer.

“Yes,” Tory said firmly, entwining her fingers with her lover’s as she smiled into Reese’s eyes. “We’re ready.”

“Come on back then,” Wendy said, opening the door to a dimly lit room.

There was a carpet on the floor, which struck Tory as odd. She was so used to the harsh lights and institutional tiles of examining rooms. And the air was warm, with a hint of vanilla teasing at the edges of her awareness. Nothing cold, nothing sterile, nothing clinical about it.

“Why don’t the two of you get settled, and I’ll be right back,” the doctor said as she closed the door, leaving them alone.

Slowly, Tory undressed. Reese took each garment and folded it carefully, placing the clothes on a small table against one wall. She handed Tory a white terrycloth robe that had been left for them.

“Cold?” Reese asked gently.

“I’m fine, honey.”

Tory eased up onto the table, glad that the surface was covered with a soft, cotton sheet. Reese covered her with another, then pulled a chair close to the head of the table and sat down. She threaded the fingers of one hand into Tory’s hair and took her lover’s hand with the other. Tory turned her head so that their faces were only inches apart.

“Are you sure this won’t hurt?” Reese asked, unable to hide her concern. You mean everything to me.

“No. I won’t feel anything.”

There was a knock on the door. “Ready?”

The two women smiled, and Tory called, “Yes.”

Tory continued to look into Reese’s eyes, listening with only part of her mind to the doctor quietly arranging a tray. When Wendy softly instructed her to slide down and lift her legs, she complied without breaking eye contact with her lover. Reese’s hand was strong and warm, enclosing hers.

After a moment, Wendy murmured, “Here we go.”

Reese touched her forehead to Tory’s, and together they whispered, “I love you.

March, East Village, Manhattan, NYC

The rail-thin, young man with short, spiked hair wore a shapeless black T-shirt and equally formless black denim pants that hung precariously from his nonexistent rear end. In the tiny kitchen of a fourth floor walk up, he approached a petite blond, also in black jeans that actually fit her trim form and a midriff-baring, white crop-top that exposed a softly curved belly adorned with a silver navel ring. “Great party, Carre. Any more beer?”

“In the fridge.” The three studs in the rim of Caroline Clark’s left ear glinted as she turned to refill a bowl of pretzels from a bag on the counter. “It’s nice to get the midterm projects over, huh?”

“For sure. Did you hear about Paris yet?”

“Just that they got all my application materials,” she replied, her smile fading slightly as she thought of spending her junior year abroad. She wanted to go, because the chance to study and paint in France was like a dream come true. But when she actually pictured herself there, so far away from everything she knew, everyone she loved…

“What about Bri? She going, too?”

Caroline hesitated. “I…we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Where is she tonight, anyhow? She’s missing all the fun.”

“At the dojo.” Caroline glanced at the clock uneasily. It was after 11:00 p.m., and Bri’s class ended at 9:30. Bri knew that Caroline was having friends over from school, and Caroline tried to ignore the stab of hurt at her lover’s absence. Now that she thought about it, Bri had been even quieter than usual the last few weeks. She seemed to be training even more, if that were humanly possible, and coming home later and later. For the first time in the four years they’d been together, Caroline felt uncertain of what was happening between them.

“What?” Caroline asked when she realized that her friend James was still speaking.

“The black belt thing…that’s happening soon for her, right?”

“Oh. Yes. Sometime this year.”

“Man, that’s amazing.” James leaned against the counter and fished a handful of potato chips from an open bag beside him. The two of them moved closer together as another woman squeezed in beside them, muttering that she was looking for ice. “She, like, practices every day, doesn’t she?”

“Almost.” Sometimes Caroline thought that Bri’s training was the most important thing in her life. She knew for a fact that the martial arts were much more important to her lover than college. Not for the first time, she thought that Bri had only come to Manhattan to be with her. That if they had stayed in Provincetown, Bri would have been just as happy. Maybe more. It wasn’t that Brianna wasn’t intelligent, because she was. She just chafed at schedules and deadlines and inactivity.

When they’d talked about going away to college, Bri had simply said that she would go anywhere that Caroline wanted to go. When Caroline received the scholarship to the Parsons School of Design in Manhattan, it had seemed like an ideal solution. It wasn’t that far from Cape Cod, so they could still get home easily. There were plenty of schools where Bri could enroll, and Reese Conlon knew of a dojo where Bri could train. Bri had settled on the city university, because it was affordable and offered a solid curriculum in criminology. She wanted to go into law enforcement, like her father and Reese.

When they found the tiny apartment in alphabet city, the student/artist enclave in Greenwich Village, life had seemed perfect. For Caroline, it still was.

“I’d better get back out there,” Caroline said, grabbing a bottle of beer for herself.

“Later,” he called as he reached for more chips.

The front door was just closing behind Bri as Caroline walked into the crowded living room, which also happened to be their bedroom when the sofa bed was pulled out. Caroline stepped over extended legs and threaded her way around the bowls and bottles on the floor until she reached her lover. Standing on tiptoe, she slipped one arm around Bri’s shoulder and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Hi.

Bri, taller than Caroline by a head, was in her usual outfit—tight, threadbare blue jeans, multi-zippered leather jacket, and heavy black motorcycle boots. She put both arms around her girlfriend and pulled her close, squeezing gently. Caroline always smelled like the shampoo she used, some combination of fruit and spices. Just the scent of her could make Bri wet. “Hey, babe. How’s it going?”

“Okay. Missed you.”

“Sorry.” Bri let her go and shrugged out of her jacket. The black T-shirt was stretched tight across her muscled chest and shoulders, her breasts smooth shadows beneath the thin cotton. Narrow-hipped and broad-shouldered, hard-bodied from years of jujitsu, she exuded danger and a seething sexuality.

“Come on,” Caroline said, taking her hand. “You want something? A beer?”