Page 47 of Jasmine Street Blues

“Tempting,” Carrie responded with a smile. The days to come were uncertain, but today was fine. She was safe. She had a bed and a roof over her head. For now.

“I have something for you,” Lila said. “I was going to wait, but I just can’t. I want you to have this now.”

The woman who’d taken her in was constantly giving her gifts. Clothes, usually brightly colored; purses; fancy chocolates. Lila’s own grandchildren lived far away and never visited. Carrie supposed she was a surrogate, of sorts. She had no complaints about that! Lila pulled a small bag from under the counter and handed it over.

Carrie peeked inside, expecting chocolates, maybe a pair of earrings.

Her heart nearly stopped. A cell phone. A cell phone!

“This is too much. I can’t…” she began.

“Yes you can,” Lila interrupted. “My carrier had a great deal, so I added you to my plan. Unlimited, so don’t worry about how much you use it. The phone is entirely in my name. You’ll never see a bill and no one will be able to trace you. Besides…” Her smile faded. “Once I move in with my son and that crazy wife of his, I want to hear from you. I want to know how you’re getting by.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” She said the words confidently, but didn’t really mean them. She was terrified about what might come next.

With the cell she’d have access to the internet. She could set up email, if she wanted or needed to. Since there was no way to trace the phone to her, she could search her own name and see if she was wanted. Maybe the police didn’t know she’d been the one to kill Eddie. It was possible. Maybe she’d been on the run for no reason at all, though she was pretty sure a neighbor had seen her go into the house that night.

Phil dropped money on the table and headed their way. As he passed, he winked at Carrie. She suppressed the urge to respond with her middle finger.

When he was gone, Lila asked, “Are you ever going to tell me what you’re running away from?”

I killed my mom’s husband Eddie with a cast iron skillet. She couldn’t say the words out loud, but the thought alone was enough to bring back the mental picture of the man lying on the kitchen floor, head bleeding, eyes closed.

Creep number one in her life.

“I love you, but I can’t.”

She held the phone in her hand, looking down at it. If she wasn’t wanted for murder she could find Mac. He was there, front and center in the fondest memories of her childhood. Unfortunately he was also a cop… Had a new family and kids of his own… Had probably forgotten her entirely.

She might as well forget him, too. Looking forward, not back, was the only way to survive.

15

Loran hadn’t believed it was possible for this to happen to her. Not after Henry. That relationship had burned away the last of her trust, especially where men were concerned. Care for no one, love no one, and you can’t be hurt or betrayed. She hadn’t counted on Mac.

He knew what she did and wasn’t afraid of her. He’d seen her flaws, her insecurities, her distrust. She’d lied to him, more than once. And still he loved her. He’d said so, in a moment of weakness.

The sun was barely up, but he stirred. Loran had been awake for a few minutes, her mind spinning, her heart pounding. This wasn’t meant for her, but she was going to take it. She was going to grab Mac with both hands and keep him for as long as she could.

She grabbed him now, literally, rolling into him and wrapping her arms around his big body. Last night had been wonderful, she’d never known anything like it, so they were both naked. She loved the feel of his body against hers, the heat, his hardness and her softness, the way they fit together.

Again and again they fit, as if they’d been made for one another.

“You’re relentless,” he whispered as he rolled her onto her back and spread her legs with his knees.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

He didn’t answer. There was no need for words. He was there, inside her, slow at first and then faster, deeper, harder. It was so easy to get lost in him, to embrace the moment and stop worrying about anything else. Yesterday was gone. Tomorrow hadn’t yet arrived. There was just today. Just this.

They came together, gasping, reaching, finding something neither of them had expected. I love you was on her lips and in her heart. Did she say the words? She couldn’t be sure. She’d said something unintelligible in that exquisite moment.

Mac kissed her neck and placed his mouth by her ear. “Stay,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t mean today, or tomorrow. I want to come home every day and find you here. I want you in my bed every night. You make me lasagna, I’ll make you gumbo.”

“You cook?”