Vince sat behind the wheel of a beat-up Chevy rental and continued to stare across the street at the busy coffee shop.
He’d called.
He’d dug out Dawn’s number and dialed, praying to God Charlie knew what she meant when she said talking to Dawn could bring closure. And as much as he hoped that would be the case, he wasn’t doing it for himself so much as for Charlie.
If he wouldn’t face his nightmare head-on, how could he expect her to? He’d never thought himself a hypocrite and didn’t want to start now. But there was the bigger reason—the one leading to a future he thought he’d never have…could never have. Straightening his shit out meant what he’d thought unattainable could be in the realm of possibility.
Like Charlie.
Like being with Charlie and figuring out where they stood with one another. Yeah, she pushed his buttons and kept him on his fucking toes. But she also showed him multiple times over that sometimes being a little out of control wasn’t such a bad thing.
But his newfound way of thinking didn’t mean jack if he didn’t straighten his ass and his head out, and it wasn’t going to happen by cowering in the fucking car like a toddler.
Vince jogged across the street and held the door open for an elderly couple before entering Brewed Awakenings himself. Unlike last time he’d been here, there was room to breathe. Business professionals. Gym rats. College students. The place drew a wide range of clientele.
He ordered a plain black coffee before finding an unobtrusive table tucked in the corner and moving the chair so that his back faced the wall, a habit ingrained in him since boot camp.
“Rico used to do that too.” Dawn sat across from him, taking him by surprise, and graced him with a small smile. “When we first started dating, it embarrassed me, especially when he rearranged furniture in places where the chairs weren’t meant to have much free range of motion. It drove me crazy.”
“He drove a lot of people crazy,” Vince joked, wiping his suddenly damp hands on his pants. “That was part of his charm.”
Dawn’s smile grew before a more somber look melted it away. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d call.”
“And I have to admit, I wasn’t going to.”
She offered him a knowing nod. “What changed your mind, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Something a friend said—that keeping myself chained to regrets wasn’t going to get me where I want to be in life…or allow me to be who I want to be.”
“She sounds like a smart woman. I hope you plan on holding on to her really damn tight.”
Vince lifted an eyebrow. The tightening in his chest eased at her little chuckle. “How do you know that friend’s a woman?”
Dawn grinned. “Because only someone you love can make you do something you don’t really want to do. Well, that, and the day we ran into each other on the pier, I saw the pretty blonde you were with. She’s gorgeous. And she looked like she made you happy.”
Vince didn’t bother setting her straight, or telling her about his and Charlie’s cover. Charlie did make him happy. And pissed him off. And put him at ease. And drove him bat-shit crazy. He was still figuring it the hell out.
Baby steps.
Vince clutched his coffee cup a little tighter than necessary, not realizing it until a splash of hot liquid ran over his hand. He forced himself to lighten his grip. “Dawn, I know this isn’t going to erase what happened to Rico but…”
Fuck, this was hard.
“I’m sorry.” Vince pushed through the lump forming in his throat. “I promised to bring him back to you and I didn’t. As a matter of fact, you were right at the funeral when you blamed me for his death. I’m the one that got him killed. You should hate my fucking guts.”
Dawn watched him a beat longer and, when he’d prepped himself for a good grovel, she reached out and squeezed his arm. Instead of judgment in her eyes, there was concern.
“I don’t hate you, Vince.” Sincerity drenched her words. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel as though I blamed you for what happened, because I don’t. I was in a bad place during Ricky’s memorial service. I’d lost my best friend and husband. I was pregnant and alone, recently fired from my job for having been out for so long on bed rest. My father had just been diagnosed with colon cancer, and my mother was a wreck. It felt like entire world was against me.”
“And I added to it.”
She shook her head. “No. Vince, I was an emotional, hormonal mess. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, for how I behaved.”
He heard her words, but they didn’t make sense. He shook his head repeatedly. “No.”
“Yes.” She gripped his arm tighter, regaining his attention. “Rico and I knew what his kind of life could mean for our future. I wasn’t delusional. Every time he walked out the door, there was a chance he wouldn’t be walking back through it. Did he ever tell you he’d wanted to put in for retirement?”
That took him by surprise, and he finally met her gaze. “He didn’t say a damn thing about that.”
“That’s because I couldn’t let him do it. I saw what making that decision did to him. If he wasn’t working alongside you and the others on Team Five, he wouldn’t have felt whole. I couldn’t expect him to live that way. We decided—together—that he’d stay.”
This was all news to Vince. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Dawn graced him with a small, sad smile and sat back in her chair. “I don’t blame you, Vincent. Of course I wish he was still here. I miss him every day, but I have a little piece of him with me forever. Richelle is so much like him that sometimes I stare into her eyes, and I swear I see him looking back at me.”
She glanced at the shiny ring on her left hand, something he’d neglected to see on the pier. “I found someone who adores both Richelle and me. He’s good to us. He loves Richelle as if she were his own. We’re happy.”
Vince worked his throat. “I told Rico I’d take care of the two of you, and I’ve done a piss-poor job of it, so I’m glad someone else stepped up.”
She studied him carefully, so long that even Vince shifted awkwardly in his seat. Christ, the woman could have a lucrative career in interrogation and not even say a damn word.
Suddenly, her mouth went lax. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“You’re the source of the mystery account. You have no idea how long I argued with the bank when the statements first came rolling in—that it must be a mistake. That even though my dream was to find extra money lying around, it didn’t happen in real life.”
He couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t take credit for it. “Like I said, I needed to make sure you and the baby were taken care of.”
Dawn’s smile turned watery. “I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t have done it—even though you shouldn’t have. But it did help us, especially in the beginning while we navigated our way through Rico’s benefits. But we don’t need your help anymore, Vince.”
She slid her hand over his fingers and squeezed. “Richelle and I are good now. What I need is for you to find your good place too…and something tells me you’re going to find it in that pretty blonde.”
Fuck. Was she right?
Vince didn’t need to think about it long, because the answer flooded him like a tsunami.
Yes.
Charlie was his good place. She put him in a good place. It was why the harder he tried to stay away, the more he kept going back, whether it involved bickering, training, or hell, sex. She’d challenged him, but in a good way…in a way that kicked his fucking ass into gear and calmed him, both physically and mentally.
Vince blew out a slow breath, feeling like a moron for having overlooked what was right in front of him the entire time. “It’s looking like that may be the case.”
“Then why are you still sitting here with me?” Dawn’s coy smile made him chuckle.
Vince’s cell rang, and he picked it up without checking the caller I.D. “Franklin.”
“Shit, man.” Logan sighed heavily on the other end. “I hope you own stock in Chap Stick because you’re about to be doing a lot of fucking ass-kissing.”
“And who’s ass am I supposed to be kissing?” Vince smirked.
“Charlie has your freaking phone, smart-ass. And you have hers.”
Logan’s meaning took a minute to sink in. Vince’s back went ramrod straight. “What did you leave?”
“Oh, you know…not much. Just that her program linked Torres to the last four missing girls in some way, shape, or form—and that twelve years ago, Charlie barely escaped an abduction situation herself, which is why she’s been so goddamned adamant about taking the fucking case.” By the end of his rant, Logan was practically yelling.
Vince slammed his hand against the table and hissed under his breath, “Fuckin’-A, Callahan! Why would you leave that kind of information on my voice mail?”
“Do not shoot the fucking messenger, man. Look what the hell you’re grabbing before you leave the room…or better yet, talk to your fucking partner!”
Fucking-A, he was right. “Tell Stone we may need the team here sooner rather than later. Something tells me this isn’t going to end up dressed with a pretty fucking bow.”
“He’s already ahead of you. We’re about to board the jet now…should be wheels down in Miami in a few hours. In the meantime, try and use the fire extinguisher on our girl.”
Vince hung up the phone. Fuck. He’d have to find her first.
“That didn’t sound good.” Dawn’s brow furrowed in concern.
“It’s not. I’m pretty sure I fucked up my happy place.”
“Then you better haul ass and fix it.” She stood and she shooed him with her hands. “Go on. Get out of here. If you mess up your happy place because you’re standing here with me, then I’m going to be the one who feels guilty. Besides, I’m going to want to meet the woman capable of keeping you in line.”
“She may kick my ass to the curb before you get the chance.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling she can be persuaded to your way of thinking.”
With a rushed good-bye, Vince hightailed it back to their second rental and started dialing his phone before he even turned on the ignition. When Charlie didn’t pick up, he called the club. Six redials later, Tina finally picked up.
“Where’s Charlie?” he asked without preamble.
“Oh, you mean Miss Personality? She finished her techie thing and booked it out of here like her panties were on fire—and not in a good way. And speaking of fire…it may have been a while since my cousin and I have spent quality time together, but I have a good enough memory to recall what it’s like when she’s about to go on a rampage. My guess is that you—somehow—screwed up. Am I right?”
“Did she say where she was going?” Vince ignored the banter.
“No, but I heard her mumbling something about being lied to by everyone.”
“If you hear from her, tell her not to do anything stupid. And if you hear from Brock Torres, don’t say anything, and call me. Immediately.”
“Why would I—” Tina’s head must’ve been spinning. “You can’t possibly believe Brock is behind what’s been happening at the club.”
“He has access to the club. He’s been at the club. And he has a link to the last four missing girls.”
“No. You don’t understand he wouldn’t—”
“I mean it, Tina. Be careful.” Vince hung up and dialed one more number as he navigated the busy Miami streets and headed downtown.
“Calling to apologize?” Logan’s voice teased. “I’m fond of bluebonnets. They remind me of home.”
“Ping my phone and tell me my gut’s wrong.”
Logan must’ve been prepped because, a few seconds later, he uttered the location Vince dreaded hearing.
“Goddamn it, English, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he grumbled softly before addressing his teammate. “When you get here, use our phones to follow our trails. I have a feeling my hands are going to be too full to answer any calls.”
“And what the fuck are you going to be doing?”
What he should’ve done from the very fucking beginning. “Backing up my partner. And Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Hustle the fuck up.”
Vince blew the upcoming red light and cut off a cabbie in the middle of the next. A few dozen blocks had never seemed so far away.