Where Loyalties Lie (MidKnight Blue Book 3) Read online

  Walking into their bedroom, Joe took note of the fact that her back was to him, and that she was tense—she wasn’t asleep. He put his keys on his dresser, took off the jacket he had thrown on over his sweats and T-shirt to go and pick up Midnight, also removing the small handgun he had shoved into the deep pockets of the jacket. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed into bed and lay on his back for a few minutes. He could feel Randy tense further as he rolled onto his side, facing her back. He reached out, touching her waist, nuzzling the back of her head with his lips.

  “I’m a shit,” he muttered into her hair, “so shoot me.”

  He almost felt her grin, and she relaxed against him. He hugged her closer to him. She turned over to face him, her eyes searching his face in the dim light. “You still don’t want me to do it, do you?”

  Joe hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t lie to her. Slowly, he shook his head. “No, but I won’t try to stop you either. It’s your decision, and I guess I’ll just have to deal with it as it comes.”

  Randy smiled. “I guess that’s about the best I’m going to get, huh?”

  “Just about.”

  “Well, I love you anyway.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He grinned.

  Joe leaned down and kissed her, and all their arguments melted away. They both slept much better that evening, their argument resolved for the time being.

  ****

  Midnight was not so lucky, however. Rick stumbled into their bedroom around two o’clock in the morning. It was very obvious that he was drunk, but he tried to hide it. Midnight was lying in bed on her side, facing him. She opened one eye when he came into the room, the light from the hallway pouring in around him.

  “Had a good time, did we?” Midnight said.

  Rick gave her a sour look. “Well, one of us had to.”

  Midnight sighed dramatically. “Oh, the sacrifices you do make.”

  “More than you can claim,” Rick replied snidely.

  “Ah yes, I know.” Midnight sat up, her copper-gold hair falling all around her shoulders. She set her expression to that of an apologetic schoolgirl. “I was a bad, bad girl, and just for that I won’t get to go to any more fancy parties.” Her voice was that of a little girl’s, but the sarcasm it dripped was all woman. Then she narrowed her eyes at Rick. “I could be so fucking lucky.”

  Rick stared at her openmouthed. Apparently he hadn’t expected this tactic from her; he had obviously thought she would be sincerely apologetic.

  “So, I take it you’re proud of your behavior this evening?” he asked, his voice reflecting his surprise.

  Midnight pursed her lips as if she were considering the question, then muttered, “Well, I guess I could have just stood up and shot the bastard, but that would have been a little much, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t believe you!” Rick hollered. “You actually think you had some sort of right to act the way you did?”

  “And I guess I could say that I don’t believe you,” Midnight said sharply. “You actually expected me to react any other way?”

  “You know, Midnight, the whole world doesn’t have to think the way you do.”

  “No, they don’t, but they have to at least be armed when it comes to having a battle of wits,” she snapped.

  “For your information,” Rick said, sounding every bit the aristocrat, “Mr. Theland is a very well-educated man.”

  Midnight shrugged. “Yeah, but not when it comes to the real world. Life is not lived inside the hallowed halls of Oxford, you know.”

  “Yes, I know, but could we at least get out of the ghetto every now and then?”

  “Feel free, just don’t take me with you.”

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about the local society matrons beating down your door.”

  “Oh, and that really breaks my heart,” Midnight said, a look of mock distress on her face.

  “I’m sure.” Rick turned to leave the room, slamming the door on the way out. Midnight sat looking at the door for a long few minutes, her eyes burning with anger. She couldn’t believe that not only had he not stood up for her, but he actually sided with them.

  After a few minutes she lay back down, and after about an hour of tossing and turning, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  The next morning she woke feeling more tired than she had when she’d gone to bed. It was not going to be a good day, she could just tell.

  Upon coming into the kitchen she found that Rick had slept on the couch, and had apparently told his sister he had something to do and had showered and left early. Mikeyla, sensing that something was wrong, clung to Midnight and wouldn’t let herself be put down.

  Deborah knew Rick was enraged about Midnight’s behavior the night before, and she also knew Rick had spent the rest of the evening drinking and having long, quiet conversations with Sheila. Deborah was quite perturbed with her brother for having acted the way he had, and for not going after his wife when she left. Deborah had gone over to Rick when he reentered the dining room, and asked where Midnight had gone.

  Rick had shrugged “She left,” he said, sounding very unconcerned.

  “How did she leave, Richard?” Deborah asked. “You have the car keys, don’t you?”

  Rick gave his sister a sour look, then said, “You have no idea how resourceful my wife can be.” It was as if he were loath to give Midnight any credit.

  “I see,” Deborah said. “And that’s your excuse for not going after her?”

  “Quite,” Rick snapped, then walked away.

  Deborah had been surprised at her brother’s tone; she had literally been stunned into a shocked silence. She watched him the rest of the evening, but did not say another word to him. Wilson had sensed her shocked dismay and attempted to be more attentive to her than usual, hoping to reset the balance. He hated to have anything out of balance; it was the banker in him.

  Now, as Deborah looked at Midnight as she held Mikeyla, not even touching her coffee, she could tell she was tired and upset, and she surmised that Midnight and Rick had had some words when he dragged himself home early that morning. He had given the keys to his car to Deborah around eleven o’clock the night before and told her he’d catch a ride home with someone. Deborah was pretty sure she could guess who that someone would be. It bothered her greatly that her brother was being so reckless with his marriage, but she knew she would have no real influence on him; Katherine had been the only one who ever had, and Katherine would never push Midnight over someone like Sheila Theland. Sheila was what Katherine would consider good Debenshire stock. So Deborah knew that she had to try, even if she didn’t help anything.

  Later that day, Midnight had gone off to take a nap. Rick had not returned by 1:00 p.m., but had called and said he would be home by 2:00. Deborah noted that Midnight seemed to time her nap for right about fifteen minutes before Rick was to be home. But she decided this would be a good time to talk to her brother. So, leaving her daughters happily engaged in play with Mikeyla and Wilson working happily on his laptop, Deborah all but dragged her brother out to the deck overlooking the ocean.

  Rick sat on one of the lounge chairs, looking out at the sea. His dark blue eyes were very wary; he was sure he knew what was coming. His light brown curls, long and shaggy, blew in the light breeze from the ocean. Deborah couldn’t help but be aware of how good-looking her brother really was. His handsome features were only the beginning of his assets; Deborah knew her brother had a charming personality, a quick wit, and a great depth of emotion that he allowed the people closest to him see often. It was his nature to feel everything very deeply, to take everything to heart and express in one form or another his feelings about any given issue.

  His expressions didn’t always take a verbal form; more often than not they were physical. Deborah remembered the time he had been forced to go to a debutante ball. He had shown up an hour late, half-crocked, his tuxedo shirt half unbuttoned, with black jeans and a leather jacket and boots. He had proc
eeded to flirt outrageously with all of the debutantes, causing many of them to either blush furiously or all but eat out of his hand. He basically accosted the girl he was supposed to escort and took her riding, in her ball gown, on his motorcycle. Then he had brought her back two days later, and no one was sure to that day what they had done or where they had gone, but the girl had never had an unkind word to say about him; nor would she reveal their secret. That girl had been Sheila Theland. That was what worried Deborah the most. Rick had a past with this girl, and she was afraid he was trying to recapture something he remembered fondly from his youthful days of being free and wild.

  Deborah watched her brother for a few minutes, silent to the point of making him sigh loudly.

  “What is it, Deb?” he asked.

  “I think you know, Richard.”

  Rick nodded at her slowly. He looked tired.

  “What is it you think you’re doing with Sheila Theland?” she asked, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

  Rick looked at her for a long, measured moment, then shrugged casually. “I’m just havin’ a good time.”

  “I see.” Deborah sounded very much like their mother at that moment. “And?”

  “And what?” Rick said, a rush of frustration pushing him to his feet. He walked over to the rail and looked out at the ocean. “I’m just havin’ fun, Deb, that’s all.”

  “What kind of fun, Richard?”

  Rick didn’t answer right away, and he wouldn’t look at his sister. “Nothin’, Deb,” he said eventually. “Really.”

  Deborah looked at him again, trying to decide if he was not telling her the truth to keep her from having to lie to Midnight, or if he was really being honest.

  “Do I hear ‘not yet’ in that statement?” she asked finally.

  Rick looked at her. “You think it’s easy?” He gestured toward the house and his wife within. “To live with that? To live with someone who cares more about her damn job than she does anything else? To watch her every day, trying to clean up the garbage that just keeps coming? To see her have to kiss up to guys who would just love to get her in bed, and to watch her have to tap-dance just out of their reach and call it politics?” He turned back to the railing, his eyes swimming with unshed tears of anger. “I hate it,” he said. “I hate it, and sometimes…”

  Deborah waited, but when he didn’t continue, she said softly, soothingly, “Sometimes what, Richard?” She’d never seen her brother this emotional over any woman.

  “Sometimes,” he began, pausing as he closed his eyes and swallowed. Then he opened his eyes and looked at his sister. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet she could barely hear it over the sound of the crashing waves. “Sometimes I hate her.”

  Deborah was shocked, and all she could think to do was hug her brother. She knew she had no words to say that could help him, and she didn’t know what she could do. She knew Rick was hurting, and she knew his hurt was hurting Midnight, but she couldn’t fix it. The thought made her feel helpless, and she prayed that somewhere, somehow, Rick and Midnight could get through this. Deborah also knew that for Rick to feel the way he did about Midnight’s job, he must love his wife very deeply. She just hoped his actions in reaction to Midnight’s work wouldn’t be more than their marriage could take.

  Chapter 4

  The rest of Deborah’s stay flew by, and it seemed like no time at all before Midnight, Rick, and Mikeyla were taking them to the airport to say goodbye. Mikeyla held Susan’s hand as they headed toward the gate. Wilson was carrying Liz, walking behind the meandering pair. Rick and Deborah were walking side by side. Midnight was behind them all, with her hands in the pocket of her FORS jacket. Deborah had tried to talk to Midnight about what Rick had said, and about what she thought her brother was feeling, but Midnight hadn’t really understood. She had said that Rick shouldn’t have a problem with her job, and that she’d had the job before she had him. Deborah had gently suggested that perhaps Midnight should cut back on some of her hours, maybe be home more.

  Midnight had been infuriated, getting very defensive about how much time she spent at home, saying she didn’t appreciate being treated as the bad guy. “I wasn’t the one who stayed out till two in the morning getting wasted, and with an ex-girlfriend to boot!” she had all but yelled.

  The conversation had basically ended there. Midnight would not listen, and a small, independent part of Deborah didn’t blame her.

  Deborah couldn’t even begin to grasp how hard this change in lifestyle was for Midnight. Midnight had always been her own person, and had always had all the freedom she wanted, extracting what she wanted from life with no major responsibilities except, of course, for FORS. Having to worry about another person’s feelings and problems as well as taking care of her daughter’s needs was really a lot to deal with, and now Rick was going to start being difficult about FORS? Midnight knew she was going to have to draw the line somewhere if she wanted to retain any of herself, and if Rick got his feelings hurt, tough.

  The goodbyes were hardest on Mikeyla. She had become very fond of Susan during their stay, and she didn’t understand why she had to leave. By the time they boarded the plane, Mikeyla was in tears and Midnight had to hold her to keep her from running down the gangway after Susan and the family. Deborah had hugged her brother and then Midnight, telling her she hoped everything worked out. Midnight had nodded numbly. She felt bad that she had been so angry with Deborah when they had talked about Rick, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize either. So Deborah, Wilson, Susan, and Liz boarded the plane on their way back home, and Midnight, Rick, and Mikeyla walked back to the car in silence.

  Within minutes of getting into the car, Mikeyla was asleep. The silence seemed to expand. When Midnight couldn’t take it anymore she reached over and turned on the radio. Journey’s “Message of Love” was playing, and Midnight wanted to laugh as she listened to the chorus. Listening to Steve Perry ask if his baby could hear him, if she could hear his message of love.

  Midnight thought those words really seemed to fit their situation pretty well. She knew they were in trouble, but she didn’t know how to fix it. If Rick was upset about her commitment to FORS then there really was a problem. The trouble was that Midnight was not willing to give up FORS—not for Rick, not for anyone… except maybe for Mikeyla, she thought, glancing back at her sleeping daughter.

  A few minutes later Rick’s cell phone rang. He answered it on the hands-free.

  “Richard?” a woman with a distinctly familiar English accent queried.

  “Yes?” Rick said, smiling. Midnight’s eyes narrowed.

  “Richard, I’m glad I got you,” she exclaimed happily, having no idea that his wife was listening.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, glancing at Midnight to see how she was taking the fact that his ex-girlfriend was calling him.

  She stared back at him, her face devoid of emotion, but the look in her eyes was one of cold anger. Rick reached over and picked up the phone, canceling hands-free, not sure what Sheila wanted but aware that it was probably something Midnight didn’t need to hear.

  Rick was very obviously trying to keep the conversation one-sided, so Midnight didn’t know what Sheila was saying. She felt herself growing colder, and angrier; she wanted to reach over and snatch the phone out of Rick’s hand, and tell the little limey bitch to get her own man. But Midnight was nothing if not very controlled; she had gotten very good at hiding her impulsiveness and keeping her cool. Dealing with the heads of large police departments and sheriffs’ units had taught her that.

  Dragging her attention forcefully away from Rick’s conversation, Midnight thought about her upcoming trip to Sacramento. She was scheduled to talk to some of the heads of the state-level Bureau of Investigations and some at the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement’s Violence Suppression team as well. She was excited about the prospect of talking to other law enforcement officials about policies and strategies. She was very proud of the unit she had built, and still constan
tly surprised at other agencies’ reactions to both her program and to her in general. Midnight’s petite stature and surprising good looks tended to set what Midnight liked to call the cop-types back a few paces. In a way she now enjoyed surprising them; before FORS had become so successful, her appearance had been more of a hindrance than a help, but now, bringing up FORS’ success statistics was a good way to smooth over officials’ ruffled feathers.

  Midnight had begun to feel this trip to Sacramento might help ease things a bit with Rick, and maybe make him miss her a little bit. She was slated to leave two days hence; she had already made arrangements to have Mikeyla taken care of by an au pair. Deborah had contacted the agency and had them send information on the au pairs they had under their employment. Midnight had read the information and tried to get Rick’s input on who they should hire, but he had been uninterested, telling Midnight that she should be able to make that decision on her own. He snidely recited a recent description of her in the local newspaper referring to her as “the head of a highly successful law enforcement team.” Midnight made the choice with cold resignation, knowing that Rick was just being a jerk. She would be happy to remind him of the conversation should he bring up any flaws in her decision-making abilities.

  Rick finally hung up the cell phone after about five minutes of stilted conversation. He returned his attention to his driving, as if the call had never happened. The rest of the drive was quiet; neither was willing to give in and say something to break the silence. When they got home, Midnight got Mikeyla out of her car seat and took her into the house. She laid her down on her bed and shut her door.

  She walked into her and Rick’s bedroom, where he was changing clothes. She wanted to ask him where he was going, but she didn’t. She knew he was waiting for her to ask, and she didn’t want to be predictable. Shrugging inwardly, Midnight picked up a report she’d been wanting to read and walked out of the room.