Page 21 of Renegade
“One second.”
She hasn’t come out of her bedroom yet this morning, and I’ve been hoping it’s because she’s busy with last-minute packing, not because she’s trying to avoid me. That would suck. Of course, if she is, we’re going to talk about it and work it out. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that asshole Declan come between me and Gemma. But first she’s got to come out of her damn bedroom.
Five minutes later, Gemma emerges, looking comfortable but every inch the artsy photographer in a pair of black leggings, a white tank top, a faded but somehow stylish-looking jean jacket, and white Converse high-tops. I, on the other hand, probably look like a homeless refugee. I tossed and turned last night, unable to sleep. I blame my cock. I’d been aroused by everything that had happened with Gemma. Of course, it hadn’t meant anything. Any red-blooded male would get aroused with a pretty, almost naked girl squirming around in his lap. But since I threw down the asinine rule that she couldn’t come unless I said so, it didn’t seem fair if I did, so I suffered all night. In the future, I’m going to have to think through all these rules before I start spewing them out to her.
The horn blares again.
Gemma frowns. “Dammit. Why is she early? I need coffee.”
“She’s actually late.” I take her bag and hand her a travel mug filled with coffee with two sugars and splash of milk, just the way she likes it. I swat her butt playfully. “We’ve got to go!”
I do it without thinking—it’s a gesture I’ve done a hundred times—but suddenly it brings back a flood of memories I need to forget.
She rubs her butt.
I grin. “Ass sore?”
She grins back. “Nope. Never better.”
And all is right with the world again. I follow her out the door and down the stairs, still smiling like an idiot.
“When are you guys going to be back?” Charlotte asks as she maneuvers her Ford Focus through the rush hour traffic on the way to the Charleston airport.
“I don’t know yet,” I volunteer. “It depends on what we find out and when we can see Dr. Morris’s family.” I glance over at Gemma. “Have you been able to reach them?”
She shakes her head. “I left a message for his wife yesterday, but I haven’t heard back from her. I’ll call again once we get to San Francisco.”
I nod and turn back to Charlotte. “Whenever it is, don’t worry about picking us up. We can Uber home. Any luck finding the necklace?”
“Not yet. I’ll keep looking.” She looks at me guiltily. “I’m sorry I borrowed it. McKenzie said it was okay, but I—I shouldn’t have.” She sighs. “I just missed Liam, and I wanted to wear the last thing he touched. It sounds crazy.”
Not for the first time, I wonder if Charlotte had feelings for Liam. Now that I think about it, Liam once said something about Charlotte that had made me think he was interested in her as well, but he quickly brushed it off, saying she was his little sister’s best friend and way too uptight for him.
“Not crazy at all,” I reassure her.
She frowns. “It’s weird how it just disappeared, though. I never took it off—I didn’t want to—until the night before last, just before my krav maga class. When I came home, I couldn’t find it. I thought I’d laid it on the night table, but it wasn’t there, so I must have put it somewhere else. I can’t seem to keep my head straight since Liam died.”
I ruffle her hair. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m sure it’s somewhere in your apartment. Just let me know when you find it.”
Two hours later, Charlotte has dropped us off, we’ve checked in and boarded, and we’re on our way to the City by the Bay. Gemma and I have lucked out and have the row to ourselves; I’ve taken the aisle seat so I can stretch out my legs, and she’s curled up in the middle seat next to me.
“Is it weird to fly on a regular plane?” she asks.
“It’s fucking luxurious,” I say, puffing my chest out and leaning back with my fingers laced behind my head. “The military planes we usually fly on are noisy and uncomfortable. The seats are just cargo nets, so most of the time, if it’s a long flight, we opt for lying on the cold steel floor of the plane and black out on Ambien for the duration.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s terrible.”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
It’s been a long time since Gemma and I have had this much time together in person. I saw her at Liam’s memorial service, but I had to leave less than twenty-four hours after it was over, and both of us were focused first and foremost on being there for McKenzie. We have a lot of catching up to do. She fills me in on their girls’ weekend in Vegas, how the wedding business is doing, and about a photography show she’s been invited to attend in the fall. I tell her about the mission that took Liam’s life and how I’ve slowly been coming unwound since then. Talking to Gemma has always been easy. She listens intently, every thought and emotion transparent on her face and in her expressive eyes. She has that rare quality of knowing when to press for more details and when to sit with me in silence. I find myself telling her how I don’t believe Liam was illegally running guns.
“But I thought you said Noah brokered the deal with him personally,” she says. “Do you think he’s lying?”
I sigh. “No. I wish I did. But Noah’s one of those guys who has integrity grafted into his bones. I believe him. I just think there’s something we’re missing. I know Liam better than anyone. He wouldn’t have done that,” I maintain stubbornly. “This whole situation makes no sense.”
She covers my hand with hers and lays her head on my shoulder. “This is one of the things I love most about you. You are loyal to a fault. I loved Liam, too. But sometimes, if it looks like a rose and smells like a rose and feels like a rose, it’s probably not a dandelion.”
I laugh at her analogy and ruffle her hair. “I know. I just can’t let it go.”
