Bronx Page 5

  "I'm sure." He picked up the remote in his lap and turned on the television. "I'll watch a movie. Bring me back some food."

  "Yep. I won't be long."

  I took the elevator down to the first floor where the banquet room had been set up for our company dinner. I recognized Bulldozer's booming voice before the elevator doors had opened completely. He was standing at the hot drink kiosk, sipping a beer and laughing it up with two young women. Neither of the women was his wife. He didn't spot me coming out of the elevator, which was good. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation about something that didn't need confronting.

  I headed down the short hallway to the banquet room and stepped inside. Someone had hung a large banner that read Welcome Western Smokejumpers. Strings of paper snowflakes and twinkling lights had been hung around the room. Fleetwood Mac was streaming down from various speakers in the ceiling. It reminded me more of a senior prom than a company dinner.

  A buffet with ribs, macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes had been set up on one side of the room. Kaos was hovering over the table, piling a plate high with food. It would probably be his first plate in a series of plates. His massive size seemed to come with an endless appetite. Angus was standing at the bar. He waved me over. I headed across the room, nodding and having quick chats along the way. Everyone had the same question—how was Kingston? Since I wasn't a doctor, the most conclusive answer I could give was he's got ice on it and he's not here, eating, so it must hurt like hell.

  Angus handed me a mug of cold beer. "Here, it's on me."

  "I believe it's an open bar but thanks anyway." I leaned against the bar with him and scanned the room. There was only one face I wanted to see and when I found it, I was not disappointed. Layla was wearing a tight knit dress that hugged every inch of her unbelievable curves. She was holding a pink cocktail as she chatted with Mystic and her mismatched date. Layla was pointing to her forehead, which caused the guy to touch his own forehead. His pasty white complexion had turned cherry pink after a day on the slopes.

  Angus elbowed me out of my trance. "Hey, usually when I buy someone a beer, I at least get conversation. Occasionally, even a blowjob, but we can skip that. What's got you so enthralled." He followed the line of sight I'd held. "Ah yes, the lovely Layla Rafferty. She is something, isn't she?" He glanced around. "And that idiot husband of hers is probably off playing grab ass with some other woman. I can see why you are so sweet on her."

  I was nodding along with everything he was saying, but the last part snatched my attention from the angel across the room. I looked at him, not sure whether to be angry or stunned.

  "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Just don't tell Bulldozer I called him an idiot." Angus shrugged and took another swig of beer. "However, I'm not sure if your secret can be kept too safe because most of us have already clued into it. And, frankly, can't blame you at all. Like I said—she's something else." He lifted his glass. "Here's to unrequited love, eh? Sometimes it's the hurt that keeps on giving, but it's kind of a good hurt, you know what I mean?"

  "Not sure I do."

  "Ah shit, it's the beers. I start getting into my gibberish style philosophical self when I'm drunk. I just mean it's sort of bittersweet. You can love someone, even if you can't ever have the person. It's better than never loving anyone."

  I smiled at him. Some of what he said was true and some was just as he'd called it—gibberish. "I think you should stick to singing. How is the band going? Do you have a lot of gigs lined up this winter?"

  "Sure do. A couple over on the east coast too. Looking forward to a New England set of groupies." He took another drink of beer. His gaze drifted over the top of his mug. "Looks like your crush is heading this way."

  I took another swig of beer for fortification and glanced around to see if Bulldozer had returned to the room. He was nowhere in sight. Apparently, our little party didn't provide him with enough fresh blood to hoist his charms on. His dream of a wife, however, didn't seem to be looking for him. Layla headed straight toward me. I wondered, had she noticed Bulldozer's obvious effort to keep us from meeting? It was entirely possible that she had no idea. In fact, it made sense because in her eyes we were just casual friends.

  "Hello, boys." She set her half empty glass on the bar and crinkled her nose. It was adorable. "That drink was sweeter than I anticipated."

  Angus smacked down his empty mug and patted his stomach. "Think I'll go try some of that food before Kaos sucks the buffet dry." He lifted an imaginary hat at Layla. "Mrs. Rafferty," he said with his deep, mellow tone. "Bronx," he said briskly and then lumbered off.

  "How is Kingston?" she asked. She pointed at my mug of beer. "May I? I feel like I need to get that pink syrupy drink off my tongue."

  "Yeah, of course." I handed her my mug.

  Her long fingers gently grazed mine as she took hold of the beer. I had no right to, but I couldn't stop myself from staring at her lush lips as they curled around the rim of my beer. She sipped the drink and finished off with a pinky wipe of the corners of her mouth. "Thanks," she handed me back my drink. Fingers touched again. I could still feel them once she'd pulled her hand away.

  "Did the lodge send a trained medic to see him?" she asked. I was still reeling from watching her sexy mouth on my glass, but I dragged myself back to the topic.

  "No, should we have requested one?" I asked.

  "They generally have someone who is at least trained in first aid for some of the more common skiing injuries. I would have come over myself but Adam—" Her words trailed off and she pulled her gaze away. "Anyhow, I can still go if you want me to look at him."

  "No, that's all right. I think he'll be fine. If not, we'll get him to a doctor tomorrow."

  She laughed lightly behind her hand. "Sorry, ill-timed laugh but Topper was describing the whole incident. He said Kingston zigged but his knee zagged."

  I laughed. "Topper does have a way with words, and I think he pretty much nailed it with that assessment."

  "It's sort of ironic, isn't it?" she said, and all I could think was that it was ironic standing one foot away from the woman I loved knowing I could never have her. Or was that irony? Maybe it was just good old fashioned torture.

  "What's ironic?" I asked once I got my thoughts sorted.

  "Kingston parachutes into forest fires and hikes the roughest, most rugged terrain, but he hits the ski slope and wrenches his knee trying to avoid a tumbling teenager."

  I laughed. "That's the way of it, I'm afraid. Vick broke some of the toughest, wildest colts for thirty years, then he steps out of his golf cart onto a neatly manicured hillside and breaks his ankle. Had to have pins and everything."

  She covered her mouth. "Oh my gosh. Poor guy. But yes, that doesn't make much sense considering his day job. What about you?" Without warning, she lightly touched the scar on my jaw. I held my breath until her finger finished its trail along the one and a half inch scar. "Was that from breaking colts or something far less cool, like riding your bike into a fence?" She held up her hand. "Did that one when I was ten. I had to have stitches on my arm and leg." I was momentarily dragged into a fantasy about those scars and how badly I wanted to run my tongue over them. I had to lose the fantasy fast, or everyone in the room would soon be aware of my feelings for Layla.

  I reached up and touched my jaw. "No bicycle. A mare bucked me right into barbed wire. Tore a nice gash in my jaw. Eighteen stitches. I kept the horse and named her Barbie."

  She winced as I spoke. "Bad Barbie. My Barbies only drove in their pink Corvette and strutted around in one shoe, because it was impossible not to lose the second shoe. And yes, I did give my dolls their obligatory haircuts. Not sure why every little girl suddenly wakes up one morning deciding they were a trained stylist. Needless to say, the haircuts were terrible. But still I managed to stay out of barbed wire."

  We both laughed. I sensed we were attracting attention, but I didn't give a damn. We were just two people talking and laughing.

&
nbsp; I took another drink of beer, mostly to cool off the heat stirring inside of me. I could count the number of minutes I'd spent with Layla on my hands and feet, yet it felt as if we'd known each other forever.

  "King and I will probably leave early tomorrow. I don't want to make him sit in that room, waiting for me to shred the slopes without him."

  "You're a good friend." She smiled again. I was trying to absorb everything, her smiles, her words, the sound of her voice, the smell of her perfume. I never knew when I might see her again. She leaned her head in Mystic's direction. "I don't know"—she cast a puzzled expression my way—"I guess you guys call her Mystic, but what's her real name?"

  I glanced across to where Angus was now engaged in a conversation with Mystic and her sunburned date. "Kat, Kat Coltrane. I think her actual name is Katherine, but people call her Kat."

  She laughed lightly. Another sound to be recorded in my brain. "So, she has an actual nickname, Kat, nice, short, easy to remember and spell, but you guys decided you needed to muck things up by calling Katherine, the girl with the nickname Kat, Mystic?" She bunched her perfectly smooth brow. "Why Mystic?"

  "Not even sure who came up with it, but Kat likes to meditate on her way to a jump site. She says it gives her clarity and focus."

  "Smart lady." Layla took hold of my beer again and took another sip. I could have watched her sip that beer all damn night. "Her date seems—seems—"

  "Unusual?" I asked.

  Another lyrical laugh. "I suppose that's the word. Did you know he's an undertaker? I wonder if it's a prerequisite for that job, being unusual, I mean?"

  This time we both laughed. We were in the center of our comical moment together when heavy footsteps sounded on the floor behind us. We spun around in unison. All the energy in the room seemed to be focused on Bulldozer.

  He wasted no time being an asshole. "How is it, Devlin, that every time I see you, I find you talking to my wife?" I hated hearing the words my wife from his mouth. It made me want to punch him solely because he didn't deserve to be calling Layla his wife.

  "Adam, I walked over to him," Layla said dryly. There was no anger or emotion. She was just telling him a fact. She turned back to me with a forced smile, and my urge to punch Bulldozer increased. "Jack, tell Kingston if he needs me, I'd be happy to look at his knee."

  That kind offer didn't sit well with her husband. "It's the weekend. You have it off. Kingston is a big boy. He'll be fine. Come on, I haven't eaten yet." Then the moment, tense as it was, grew worse. Bulldozer's big hand wrapped around her wrist, tightly.

  Layla gasped a little and stared down at his grasp. "I can walk over there on my own. Let go." The last words were through gritted teeth.

  My pulse pounded so loudly, I could no longer hear the peripheral noise in the room. I unclenched my jaw and my fists, once he released her arm. She discreetly rubbed her wrist and swept angrily past him toward the dining table.

  Bulldozer turned an angry glare my way. It seemed everyone in the room held a collective breath. Helix came, seemingly out of nowhere, and clapped Bulldozer on the shoulder. He didn't look too pleased with Helix.

  "Hey, Bull, the ribs are almost gone. I suggest you get some. They melt off the bone." Helix's tone was light, but his expression didn't match it.

  Bulldozer pulled his feet from the spot he was standing as if they'd been stuck in cement. He lumbered off toward the food table. Helix gave me an admonishing look before following his friend.

  Suddenly, I wasn't in the mood for any of the food. There was another restaurant just outside the lodge. The cool air would help clear my dark mood, and I could pick something up for Kingston.

  8

  I raced through the lounge area, still crowded from night skiers taking a breather. I pushed out the door and into the frigid night air. It was just what I needed. I stood in front of the small restaurant, still needing to swallow the fresh mountain air.

  The lights on the mountainside reflected off the snow, making it seem like a bright, sunny day. The slopes were still crowded, dotted with skiers and snowboarders ripping through the icy slush left behind after hundreds of skis and boards.

  I walked to the menu posted outside the restaurant. Nothing sounded good to me, but I was sure a pastrami on rye would satisfy the patient up in the room.

  "Hey, Devlin," an angry voice called from behind.

  I swung around. A massive, solid fist plowed into my ribs, knocking the wind from me and sending me backward against the building. I bounced forward hard onto my knees as I gasped to regain the air I'd lost. My vision blurred and a searing pain in my side assured me a rib was broken. Once the air flowed back into my lungs, it caused the sudden pain to feel like a knife. I pressed my arm against my side and managed to push to my feet. I leaned against the building to keep from falling back down. Bulldozer's face was beet red and his jaw was set like a steel trap. Both his giant fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

  I should have let it go, but he'd caught me off guard. "That's how you fight, eh?" My voice creaked with the pain in my ribs. "Just catch a guy unaware and then break his rib?" We'd already gathered the attention of onlookers. "Thought you'd have more integrity than that. Guess I misjudged you."

  "Yeah and I misjudged you," Bulldozer said through gritted teeth. He raised his arm and flung it forward.

  I held my breath against the sharp pain as I dodged his fist and threw one of my own. It landed squarely in his eye. He stumbled back, but he'd been trained as a boxer. He recovered so fast, I was just getting past the pain in my knuckles when his fist returned, slamming me in the cheek. I fell back against the building but stayed on my feet. My ears rang and the surrounding landscape blurred into wavy lights and distorted faces.

  "All right, that's enough," a scolding voice came through the haze.

  I couldn't see straight, but as the ringing in my ears subsided, I recognized familiar voices, anxious, tense.

  I braced myself against the building. The pain in my ribs was now competing with the pain in my head. My vision was blurred, but I caught a glimpse of my opponent. Bulldozer's right eye was turning purplish blue and sealing shut. Angus and Helix had hold of Bulldozer, but he was working hard to pull free of their restraining hands. He wasn't done with me yet. I was ready for more too. We'd never been friends, but this fight would cleave our tenuous relationship for good.

  Bulldozer yelled and managed to pull his arm free from Helix, then Angus. I braced myself for another pounding and readied my body to duck the onslaught. I pushed off the wall and met another obstacle, a massive, impenetrable obstacle. Kaos had stepped between us, his arms crossed and feet set wide. He stared down at Bulldozer, casting a great shadow over my opponent and our fight arena.

  "You outweigh Bronx by fifty pounds, more if you count that big slab head of yours," Kaos said. His voice was crisp and clear in the cold night air. Our audience had grown, and now employees of the resort were entering the group to try and regain control of the situation. They needn't have bothered. Bulldozer knew he would never get past Kaos.

  Bulldozer relaxed his stance. His shoulders and hands loosened. "That's all right. I already gave it to him good." He sneered at me and turned to head inside.

  Kaos looked back at me. "You gonna make it inside on your own."

  "Yeah, I'm fine." I waved him away and stumbled toward the lodge. A rush of faces, familiar and unfamiliar, blurred as I walked past. The only face I didn't see was Layla's. And that was how far gone I was. I'd just gotten nearly cold cocked by a jealous husband, and there I was, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife. I needed my fucking head examined.

  Bulldozer had plunked down on one of the couches in the lobby. His head was back and his legs were stretched out in front of him. At least he was going to feel something tonight other than revenge.

  "Sit down on that couch too, so I can get a look at both of you." I'd never heard Layla angry, but it still sounded like music to my ears. I glanced back at her.

  Her frow
n deepened. "Holy shit. Just sit. I need to check for concussions."

  I walked past Bulldozer's big feet and gave him a sideways glance. He watched me through the lowered lid of his good eye. I sat at the other end of the couch. Since the actual fight was no longer part of the entertainment, most of the onlookers went back to their evenings. The rest of the crew, though, stood around with arms crossed and disappointed scowls. The one person I needed to see right now was up in the room with an ice pack on his knee. He'd be scowling too though. This was going to get us suspended. I was sure of it.

  Layla knelt on the rug in front of the couch. She tugged her curve hugging dress down before leaning forward with a penlight to check Bulldozer's ears, nose and pupil. "Just as I expected," she said after a minute. "Nothing in there but a lot of hot air. You'll live." One of the employees brought over several ice packs. Layla took one and handed it to Bulldozer. "Put this over that eye."

  He hesitated before covering his eye and watched as Layla moved to my end of the couch.

  "Let someone else check out Devlin," Bulldozer growled.

  Layla ignored him. She leaned toward me. Her perfume drifted over me making my light head fill with bubbles. She bit her lip as she checked my pupils. As she sat back, looking both annoyed and concerned, she noticed that I had an arm wrapped around my ribs. "Two ice packs, please."

  The employee handed her two. "For your cheek and your ribs," Layla said curtly. She pushed to her feet, looked at me and then her husband. "Idiots." She spun around and left the lobby.

  9

  Present

  There was a warm breeze flowing over the hills surrounding the cemetery. Headstones lay in perfect arrays along the green grass. A funeral was in session several hundred yards away from the memorial. A black Hearst sat patiently, silently, like a horse waiting for its rider to dismount, as a group of men pulled a mahogany casket from the back. The mourners waited quietly, shoulders slumped and faces turned as the casket was marched solemnly to the gravesite.