Page 27 of Danger Close (Mourningkill #3)

A Dark Wound

Teri

It had been years since I had slept—truly slept— with a man. The presence of other people usually kept me from ever relaxing enough to sleep. The mere sound of someone else breathing would prickle my ears. It felt like spiderwebs on my skin, and kept me alert.

But with Joe, I felt safe.

Falling asleep was a quiet, gradual thing and I woke up from a dreamless night, disappointed to see that he had left. The door was firmly shut.

I was surprised that I hadn’t felt the temperature difference.

I’d curled into his body, clinging selfishly to his warmth all night, especially when the fire died down to nothing but embers.

When I sat up, I realized that he’d draped his black leather jacket over me, like a second blanket.

It still retained the scent of him. That must have let me sleep longer.

I dressed and went out to hunt for caffeine and nearly jumped out of my skin when the front door slammed open, and I was greeted by a dog’s bark.

“I’m going shopping. Would you like to accompany me?” Charlotte closed the door, shaking rain water from her coat as she slipped it off her shoulders. Her old, graying German Shepherd followed on her heel, sloppily panting.

She kicked off her big, knee-high Wellingtons.

“Uhmm,” I said, trying to think of an excuse.

It’s not that I disliked her, no matter what she might think of me. I despised the awkwardness of forced company.

She stomped to the kitchen, pulled something from the drawer under the oven. It was some kind of half-cooked bread, then went to the fridge.

“I’m sorry, I seem to have phrased that like a question.” Charlotte had her back to me as she continued scraping something into a larger bowl. “You and I are going shopping today for dresses.”

“Dresses?” Of all the activities I thought would be forced on me, dress shopping wasn't the one I expected.

“For Taz’s wedding,” she clarified when I didn’t answer.

“Oh,” I said, quietly.

I hadn’t thought about that at all. The wedding felt far in the future. Tomorrow felt like an eternity away.

“It wouldn’t hurt to get you some things as well.” She finally turned, her hands covered in white flour, her apron absolutely fighting for its life, covered in the same powder. “Cobra told me that you don’t drink coffee.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that he remembered such a silly thing. “I do drink coffee—”

“But you prefer tea,” she interrupted. “But you’re not likely to correct someone when they shove coffee into your hands. That’s the kind of thing he thought I should know.”

“Oh…” Cobra had called me out.

I blushed.

“Yeah, oh ,” she said, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “He left early this morning, and gave me a bit of an earful. I didn’t know he’d spent the night.”

She looked at me with that single raised brow, her lips in a gentle smirk.

“I’m really sorry. He should not have done that.” My cheeks heated with embarrassment, the warmth spreading all the way to my ears. “He should not have given you an earful, I mean. Or… spent the night. I just don’t want to be a bother. Your hospitality has been more than enough.”

“That's what he said you would say,” she sighed. “It bothers me that I’ve forced you to drink something you don’t even like. Especially when it comes to something as important as caffeine.”

She had a point.

“And as far as the dress shopping, you don’t have a choice. You’ve met our little Ukrainian menace, Daria Savchenko, right?”

Of course, I remembered. She was the one who called Cobra “Daddy.”

My heart flared with a jealous rage that had not been there yesterday. Or if it had, it’d been subdued.

“This wedding being perfect means more to her than it does to the bride and groom.” She let out a fond sigh. “If we’re not at our most glamorous best, there’ll be hell to pay.”

I wondered, fleetingly, if her status as the groom’s best friend was indicative of something… more. Surely, if she was the other woman, then she wouldn’t care so much about their wedding. Or maybe it was a ploy? I wasn’t sure.

“Alright,” I said, because it was clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Good.” Charlotte kneaded dough on the flour-covered u-shaped butcher block table.

“Let me finish testing this wedding cake, but in a couple hours, let’s plan on heading out, okay?

” She gestured to the flour, and all the little contraptions around her.

Little tubes of frosting, flowers, and sugar leaves.

There were assorted fruits, and other edible things that looked far too fancy for my liking.

“Three days until the wedding, and you’re baking them a cake?” I asked, perplexed.

The German Shepherd’s nails clacked on the floorboard as it lumbered to the over-stuffed leather couch, jumping up and turning in a circle before it plopped itself into the corner.

It was clear that it was his spot. The open floor plan of the living space really was conducive to communal living.

I liked it. It suited Charlotte and Mack.

“Sort of. Kai’s mother is supplying an expensive, tiered cake that’s sure to be white, and perfect.

” She smiled, wiping her cheek, smearing more flour on her face.

“But Taz and Kai wanted something simple, chocolate. Something nice that had their team logo on it, because that’s what brought them together. ”

She shook her head, as if surprised by her own endeavor.

“Your sweet girl mentioned it in passing.” I didn’t miss how she said your sweet girl, as if trying to respect a boundary. That she was my daughter, not hers.

It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciated it all the same.

“Trinity’s just getting so brow beaten by Daria, who’s a task master, getting the barn ready, and her future mother-in-law, who’s angry that they’re not holding their wedding at the Ritz.”

As Charlotte spoke, the sliding door at the back of the house opened and shut, her husband entering the room, his boots stomping on the ground.

“I figured I’d make them a cake, something that’s just for the two of them.” Then she looked at me with hope in her eyes. “Are you any good at baking?”

“I’m abysmal at it, I’m afraid.” My mother was a horrid cook, and when I was a model, food was the last thing I thought about. Then I had Trinity and I cooked for the sake of survival.

Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve got a few days to figure out how to do this. So expect to help me eat some cake, because it’s going to take a few tries to get it right.”

“Well, I shall endeavor to be more like Marie Antoinette.”

Charlotte laughed. “Ah, there it is. Now I see where Trinity gets it from.”

The town of Mourningkill was even smaller in the afternoon light. You could see from one end of the provincial main street to the other. A row of storefronts existed in the half mile strip, and in that row of buildings was a small storefront full of dresses.

“Does Trinity have colors chosen for the wedding?” I asked.

“They’re going with fall colors, cranberry red, burgundy, and earth tones.”

“Hmm,” I said, as we perused the dress shop of the local town.

I had been skeptical when we entered the store. It was overstuffed with fabrics and naked mannequins.

But then I went deeper into the large space, and examined a few garments. Whoever sewed the dresses for this shop was a marvel. I kept inspecting seams, and touching fabrics, checking how things draped. It was all so magnificent!

“The seamstress was a fashion designer in the city, then retired up here.” Charlotte was admiring a cream-colored dress. It had straight, geometric lines made of sequins and pearls. It was very 1920’s, and of excellent quality. “Her daughter runs the shop.”

Charlotte waved to the young woman behind the counter, and she waved back.

“ Incroyable ,” I marveled, lightly touching the row of dresses, feeling the softness of the fabric on my fingers.

I’d missed nice clothes.

It was a luxury I gave up when Trinity was young.

Things became expensive very quickly when I was a single mom.

Money slipped through my fingers. I wasn’t doing much better now.

I still frequently changed addresses, trying to hide from my sins and curses, outrunning the bad luck that had a face, and name.

With a grown daughter more than able to provide for herself, finances had eased considerably.

I looked at the price tag and gasped. My economics hadn’t improved that much.

I’d never spend four figures on a dress.

“Uhmm,” Charlotte nudged me with her shoulder. “Cobra gave me his black card. Your dress is on him.”

“A black card?” I was impressed. “He’s come a long way from the young man with an old guitar, playing on street corners for change.”

“Cobra plays guitar?” Charlotte’s brows went up to her hairline.

I smiled, remembering how it was.

“Yes. And he has a gorgeous voice.” I found a blue, gossamer dress with midnight-colored rhinestones that faded towards the A-line skirt, and glided my thumb over the incredible stitching.

“Or at least he used to. When he asked to buy me a drink, I rebuffed his advances. I was not interested in men at the time. But when a man became a little amorous, despite my protests, it was Cobra who stepped in. There was a fight, and he broke his guitar.”

I loved that memory.

“The next day, I found him, with a new instrument in hand to repay him for his kindness.” I smiled, my heart feeling full. “He kissed me, and then began a serenade on bended knee. I suppose I had to fall in love after that.”

Charlotte tilted her head. “What did he sing?”

“ ‘Take My Breath Away’.”

She put her hand over her heart, and mockingly stumbled back a few steps as she gasped, “No!”

“Yes,” I said with a gentle blush.

“My God, I didn’t know Cobra had it in him.” Charlotte crossed her arms and studied me for a moment as she affectionately shook her head. “Joaquin Guerro, you sentimental fool.”

“I can’t let him pay for this.” I swallowed, looking at price tag after price tag. “ C’est trop cher … it’s too much.”

I would figure something out. Maybe I could make payments, and if not, I suppose I could go into my phone and move some money around.

“I think you can.” Charlotte winked at me. “He feels pretty bad about what he did. I know you didn’t come to dinner last night, but we all gave him a huge talking to.”

She gave me one of those close-lipped smiles that Americans do when they’re about to give some uncomfortable truths.

“We’re not against you. We just…” She sighed. “We just love Trinity. She’s one of ours. We protect our own.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“I thank you for that.” I was going to drop the topic, but then I felt an overwhelming desire to make sure she knew what, specifically, I was thanking her for. “For being on Trinity’s side, I mean.”

The longer I spent here, and the more I knew of Trinity’s friends, the more comfortable I was with the fact that if I disappeared, she’d be fine. There is this bitter, but sweet, comfort in knowing that your child would survive without you.

In becoming irrelevant, we have done our jobs…

So why was I holding onto life so tightly?

“And it seems like Cobra was on your side.” She had a sly tone to her voice as she waggled her brows. “When I woke up and saw his Audi was still there, you coulda knocked me over with a feather. What’s going on with you two?”

I pretended to be distracted by some tulle and lace, turning away from Charlotte. I didn’t know the answer to her question, and I thought that maybe it was best not to speak of it.

“I will wear blue, I think.” The over-laden walls of dresses were organized like a rainbow from one side to the other, with beautiful white and cream wedding dresses down the middle. The effect was quite stunning and satisfied something inside me.

Cobra used to like me in blue. I was wearing a blue dress the night of our first date in the rain.

“Why not red?” Charlotte asked, pulling on a nearby dress, holding up the skirt to put the fabric by my skin. “You would look really good in burgundy.”

“I’m not in the wedding party.”

“You’re the mother of the bride.” She looked at me like I’d insulted the entire procedure.

“But not actually invited.” I shrugged, trying not to sound bitter about my daughter’s decision.

She should choose who she wanted to invite to her wedding. I would not have invited my parents, had I ever had a real wedding. I doubt they knew that I had married at all, much less had a child.

Trinity chose her father. Only by some miracle, and by his bumbling good intentions, was I even here.

Charlotte stepped up to the rack beside me.

“Whatever might be going on with you and Trinity…” she began, then her eyes darted to the side as if she was thinking of exactly how she wanted to word her sentiment. “It’s really nothing compared to the hell you’ll receive from Daria Savchenko if you don’t pick the right color.”

“Who is that Daria person anyway? You all talk about her like she’s some dictator—”

“She is.” Charlotte gave me a knowing look. “She’s a sweet girl, really. She’s just a lot. All the time.”

Charlotte let out a small laugh. “She and Kai got close working together. When he came home, she joined him—”

None of that sounded good. It sounded romantic. A red flag for an affair.

“And then Trinity and her just got along like a house on fire, so now she’s one of us.”

I said nothing, not wanting to accidentally speak ill of someone she might have chosen to love.

“Poor kid.” Charlotte continued idly. “All her teasing and bravado hides a deep, dark wound.”