Chapter 42

I gave Nia an old dress I no longer fit and made breakfast while she changed. She popped back into the room sheepishly, holding the strings around her neck with one hand.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, stirring the oatmeal on the stove.

“It’s a little big.”

Eyeing her, I suppressed a giggle. On me, the dress would hit my knees, but on Nia’s short frame it brushed her ankles. Not to mention the girl had yet to hit puberty, so she didn’t quite fill out the front. I tapped the spoon on the side of the pot to clean it and set it on the counter. “We’ll just tie it tight. C’mere.”

She padded over to me on long, bare feet that looked too big for her body and held out the strings.

“Are you going to call the shelter today?” she whispered.

I brushed aside her hair and pulled the strings out. “No.”

Her up-turned nose turned profile as she tried to look at me. “Really?”

“It’s a weekend,” I said as I looped a rabbit-ear. “What can they do on a Saturday?”

In reality, I knew the legal thing to do was call the police and get Nia returned to the shelter, no matter the day or time. Morally, however, there was no way in Hades that was going to happen. Not after what she’d told me. I was going to milk Larsen for all the political contacts he had to make sure Nia didn’t go back to that shelter, and that a certain man on staff never worked another day with children or outside of bars.

“We’ll figure things out on Monday, okay?” I let the bow drop and moved her hair back into place.

The girl turned, her face hopeful for the first time since I’d brought her home with me.

*

At Sarah’s, I settled Nia in front of the television with the terriers and J.J., then followed my best friend to the kitchen.

“I don’t know, Mena,” she said as she brewed me a fresh pot of coffee. “I don’t think there’s anything Larsen can do. She’s a missing juvenile. That’s a really big deal.”

“Those people hurt her, Sarah. That’s a big deal, too.”

She inclined her head in agreement.

“What about his brother?”

“Aaron?” Sarah was thoughtful as she reached for a mug above the sink. “Well… maybe. He was pretty high-ranked in Boston. He might have some contacts.”

“Will you call him?”

“Of course.” She rested one hand on her baby bump as she regarded me. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Meens. The legal system is pretty screwed up, especially when it comes to state-supervised orphans.”

I knew she was right, but as I poked my head into the living room and saw Nia’s face lit up with laughter over some silly cartoon, I felt a rush of tenderness toward the girl. She hadn’t asked to be orphaned, or to be housed somewhere they’d mistreat her. She was lucky to not be completely messed up from the experience.

Though only time would tell if that were true.

I left Nia in the care of Sarah and our dear Officer Portham, then hijacked Sarah’s fancy SUV for a trip into town.

The bell over the door at the Diner jingled my entry, and as I stepped over the threshold, I ran into someone in a bright pink shirt.

“Oh my! Please excuse me!” the someone gasped, holding a glass out from her chest — unspilled, thankfully. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s all right,” I said with a smile.

I’d never seen the woman before. She was a tall, long-limbed woman with straight black hair that hung nearly to her butt and pale skin. She wasn’t unattractive, there just wasn’t anything unique about her, beyond the dark sunglasses she wore inside. Her nametag had “SERENITY” stenciled in purple over the name of Butch’s greenhouse.

“Mena!”

I recognized that voice.

“Jenna!” I said happily, glancing over Serenity to catch Jenna’s eye. Today, she wore a red plaid miniskirt over shapely thighs and knee high combat boots. I was beginning to think she had the clothes closet of a celebrity.

Serenity’s brows furrowed as she glanced between the two of us.

“Ser, this is Mena, the woman I told you about who helped me the day I passed out.” Jenna wrapped an arm around Serenity’s shoulder, indicating her bandaged hand. “We have identical wounds!”

I glanced at Serenity’s hands and saw one was bandaged, too.

“So you do. Mena McGinty.” I stuck out my good hand — unfortunately for Serenity, it was my left — and properly introduced myself.

Serenity shook, her hand warm but limp. Her skin seemed sallow, as if she were ill. It threw me that I couldn’t see her eyes behind her designer sunglasses. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was hung-over. Beside Jenna’s blonde, bubbly warmth, the two were an odd pair.

“Yes. I remember,” she said slowly. “Jenna said you were asking about bittersweet.”

“Right. For my friend.”

“For your friend.” Serenity didn’t look like she believed me, but Jenna seemed happy to see me.

Jenna motioned to Serenity with her cup. “Serenity moved here just a few days before I did. She’s a whiz with plants.”

“Have you always worked with plants?” I asked, trying to be polite.

Serenity nodded. “I’m a botanist.”

“A PhD,” Jenna added, grinning. “Isn’t that cool?”

“I run my own herb business on Route 22,” I offered, still trying to engage Serenity in conversation. “I sell herb crafts and such.”

Serenity nodded, but turned to Jenna and said, “I’m going to go sit down.”

Jenna frowned at her back as Serenity sat in a booth beside us, but then smiled at me. “It’s good to see you! Any luck in your search for bittersweet?”

I glanced around, wavering for a minute. Should I just come clean? Tell her why I’d been asking about the bittersweet? It wasn’t like there was anything else I could do to feel like I was helping Sarah find answers and stay safe. I lowered my voice. “Hey. Between you and me, I wasn’t asking about bittersweet for a friend.”

Jenna laughed. “I got that vibe.”

“In all seriousness,” I said, taking a step forward. “Has anybody stood out to you? Someone that’s come in and asked about bittersweet?”

Jenna lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Other than you?”

I burst out laughing. “All right. I deserved that. Yes, other than me.”

She put a hand on her hip and swiveled the ice around in her glass, looking outside. “Hmm.” She crinkled her nose, a cute motion that took years off her. I still couldn’t place how old she was. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”

I thanked her and we said goodbye. Serenity’s sunglass gaze was on me as I headed for the back of the store and Jenna moved toward the jukebox.

Rita perked up behind the counter as she caught sight of me. She waved a hand full of long orange nails. “Mena!”

“Do you ever have a day off?” I greeted her, leaning my elbows on the counter.

Rita grinned. “I am off. I left my cell phone here last night when I closed. Just dropped by to pick it up and figured I’d have me a cup of coffee.”

The coffee at the diner was a perfect mix of motor oil and Folgers, and could keep a girl up all night, if necessary. A lot of the Waterford County Community College students were known to spend their evenings hunched over never-ending mugs with their noses in schoolbooks.

“What are you doing here, sweetcheeks?”

I chuckled at Rita’s pet name. “I came to see Tierney.”

“Ah.” She winked. “I see. Why don’t you go on back? Jorge’s here for the morning rush, so you can drag Tierney away from the grill for a moment or so.”

“Thanks.” I walked around the counter, and continued through the old, stained kitchen door.

Jorge nodded at me from his bent position over the counter, popping his gum loudly. “Mena. Long time, no see.”

I smiled. “How’s school?”

Jorge straightened with an insolent shrug. “Stupid.”

Typical high schooler. “Well, you’ll graduate this year. Right?”

“Yeah. Not soon enough.”

“Mena McGinty.” Tierney walked into the room through a back door, his arm wrapped around a container of salsa. “Just couldn’t stay away from me, love?”

“Rita said you could take a real fast break. Is there somewhere we could talk?”

The big grin on his face disappeared immediately. “Sure.”

He put the salsa down next to the grill and motioned for me to follow him. He took me down a narrow hallway to a flimsy wooden door that, when opened, revealed a tiny office.

Tierney pointed to the comfy rolling chair in front of a table that took up one wall, while he settled into a hard plastic chair next to it. “What’s wrong, Mena?”

It was charming that he was so serious. But what I was there for wasn’t serious. Not really.

“I have a confession to make.”

One eyebrow reached for his hairline. “Come again?”

“When I found you washing blood off your hands, I thought you were the killer. The one killing the pregnant women.”

Tierney’s face darkened. He crossed an ankle on his other knee, staring at me. “You don’t say.”

“That didn’t come out right.”

“Enlighten me, then, Mena. You did not think I was off murdering defenseless women and infants?” Tierney sounded upset. Not mad, just… wounded.

Guilt made me flush what was probably a bright red. “What was I supposed to think? Justine Montgomery went missing the day before you showed up in Waterford. And you’d specifically told me you passed through Gables.”

“The correlation of that woman’s disappearance and my arrival is a coincidence, for sure,” Tierney said softly. “But I’m hurt you think so little of me — ”

“I don’t know what to think of you!” I moaned, tugging my hair as if yanking gobs of it from my scalp would make me feel better. “You showed up with your ‘lass’ and ‘meself,’ and the way you smell like nature feels, and you buy me a lamp and insinuate you want to stay…” I trailed off, letting my hands fall to my lap. “All in the space of a week. I’m turned up to ‘high’ when it comes to you, Tierney, and I barely know you.”

Tierney didn’t respond. We gazed at each other for what seemed like ages, time passing with a slow fluidity it only seemed to possess in his presence. This man had gotten under my skin without any effort whatsoever on his part. He was simply kind and gracious, and dear Goddess, that body.

He leaned forward and hooked a hand behind my knee. Inch by excruciating inch, he tugged me over the dirty linoleum, the chair’s wheels clanking. “What about now, Mena McGinty?” he murmured as I came to rest between his legs, my knees against his chair. “Now that you’ve confessed your sins, how d’you feel, lass?”

I reached for him without thought, sliding my hands up the front of his heather gray Henley. “Now,” I whispered, leaning close, my lips almost touching his, “I can’t stop thinking about being with you.”

“’Twas lonely last night,” Tierney said, his palms warm as he gripped my biceps.

Our lips met as I balled my fists in his shirt. He encircled me, jerking me roughly into his warmth as he parted my legs with a knee and lifted me into his lap. I sank into him, intoxicated by the sensation of his hard body beneath mine, by the satin of his mouth and tongue, and his calloused fingers as they drifted up my thighs beneath my skirt.

I reached past Tierney and locked the door.

He extracted himself from the kiss, his gorgeous sapphire eyes wide. His lips were swollen cherry red from my kisses so he looked like some kind of god. The heavy weight of his desire was obvious against my panties.

He cupped my thighs and renewed our kiss, our bodies locked together like puzzle pieces. Far away from the bustle of the restaurant, lost in Tierney, I forgot everything but the way he felt.