Falling For Rachel - Stanislaskis 3 Part 20

"I'm going."

Sometimes all you had was impulse. Rachel went with it and pressed her back against the door. "Don't. Please. Don't go like this."

There was a churning in his stomach that was pure self-loathing. "I never pushed a woman around before. It's as low as it gets."

"You didn't hurt me. I'm okay."

What she was, he noted, was deathly pale. "You're shaking."

"Okay, I'm shaking. Can we sit down?"

"I shouldn't have come here, Rachel. I shouldn't have jumped on you that way."

"I'm glad you came. Let's leave it at that for a minute. Please, let's sit down."

Because he was afraid she'd stay pressed against the door trembling until he agreed, he nodded. "You've got some things to toss back at me. I figure I owe you that." As he sat, his shoulders slumped. "I guess you'll ask to be taken off the case."

"That has nothing to do with this. But no." She thought about picking up her cold tea, but she was afraid her hands weren't steady enough. "This is personal, Nick. I'm the one who screwed up by blurring the lines. I knew better. There's no excuse." Inhaling deeply, she linked her fingers in her lap. "What happened between Zack and me wasn't planned, and it certainly wasn't professional."

He gave a quick snort. "Now you're going to tell me you couldn't help yourself." "No," she said quietly. "I could have. There's always a choice. I didn't want to help myself."

Her answer, and the tone of it, had him frowning. He'd been certain she would try to find an easy way out. "So, you chose him."

"What happened was immediate, and maybe a little overwhelming..."

She wasn't certain there were words to describe what had happened between her and Zack. "In any case, I could have stopped it. Or at least postponed it. I didn't, and that fault lies with me. The fact that we were both your guardians made it a poor call, but-" She shook her head. "No buts. It was a poor call." Her eyes met his, pleaded for trust. "We never thought of you as poor or pathetic. We never laughed at you. Whatever you think of me, don't let it ruin what you've started to get back with Zack."

"He moved in on me."

"Nick." Her voice held both patience and compa.s.sion. "He didn't. You know he didn't."

He did know, wondered if he had always known, that his relationship with Rachel had never been anything more than a fantasy. But knowing it didn't ease the raw wounds of rejection.

"I cared about you."

"I know." Her eyes filled again, and spilled over before she could prevent it. "I'm sorry."

"G.o.d, Rachel. Don't." He didn't think he could stand it. First he'd terrified her, and now he was making her cry. "Don't do that."

"I won't." But as quickly as she swiped at the tears, more fell. "I just feel so lousy about it all. When I look back, I can see a dozen ways I should've handled things. I'm usually in control." Her breath hitched as she fought for composure. "I hate, I really hate, that I've come between the two of you."

"Hey, come on." He was totally at a loss. When he rose to cross to her, he was surprised he didn't leave a trail of slime on her rug. "Listen, take it easy, okay?" He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "I've been dumped before."

All that did was force her to fumble in the pocket of her robe for a tissue.

"Don't hate him because of this."

"Don't ask for miracles."

"Oh, Nick, if you could only see through all the mistakes to what you mean to him."

"No lectures." Since her tears seemed to be drying up, he felt he could take a stand on that. "You carry on like you're in love with him." He was stunned when he saw the look in her eyes, the miserable, heartsick look, before they rilled again. "Oh, man." While she crumpled into sobs, he readjusted his thinking. "You mean it's not just s.e.x?"

"It was supposed to be." His arm went around her tentatively, and she leaned into it. "Oh, G.o.d, how did I get into all this? I don't want to be in love with anybody."

"That's rough." It occurred to Nick that he was holding her close but there weren't any tingles or tugs. The h.e.l.l of it was, he was feeling almost brotherly. No one had ever cried on his shoulder before, or looked to him for support. "How about him? Is he stuck in the same groove?"

"I don't know." She sniffled, blew her nose. "We haven't talked about it.

We aren't going to talk about it. The whole thing's ridiculous. I'm ridiculous." Thoroughly ashamed, she eased back. "Let's just say it's been an emotional night all around. Please, don't say anything to him about this." "I figure that's up to you."

"Good. I appreciate it." Still shaky, she wiped at a stray tear with the back of her hand. "Don't hate me too much.''

"I don't hate you." He leaned back, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know what I feel. Maybe I thought I could come up here tonight and prove to you I was the better man. Pretty stupid."

"You're both pretty special," she told him. "Why else would a nice, sensible woman like me fall for both of you?"

He turned his head to give her a weak smile. "You sure can pick 'em."

"Yeah." She touched his cheek. "I sure can. Tell me you're going back."

His lips flattened. "Where else would I go?"

That didn't satisfy her. "Tell me you're going back to talk things through with him, to work things out."

"I can't tell you that."

When he started to stand, she took his hand. "Let me go back with you. I want to help. I need to feel as though I've made some of this up to the two of you."

"You didn't do anything but fall for the wrong guy."

She took a great deal of comfort from the familiar smirk. "You may be right. Let me come anyway."

"Suit yourself. You might want to wash your face. Your eyes are red."

"Great. Give me five minutes." Rachel could feel Nick start to tense up half a block from Lower the Boom. His shoulders were hunched, his brows were lowered, his hands were jammed in his pockets.

Typical, she thought. The male animal ruffles his fur and bares his teeth to show the opposing male how tough he is.

She kept the observation to herself, knowing neither of these males would appreciate it.

"Here's the idea," she said, pausing by the door. "It was a pretty slow night, and it's already after one. We'll wait until the bar closes, and you two can say your piece. I'll be mediator."

Nick wondered if she had any idea how hard it was for him to face what was on the other side of that door. "Whatever."

"And if there are any punches thrown," she added as she pulled the door open, "I'll throw them."

That brought the ghost of a smile to his face. It faded as soon as they stepped in.

Rachel had been right. It was a slow night, as it often was in the middle of the week. Most of the regulars had already headed off to home and hearth. A few diehards lingered at the bar, which Zack was manning alone. Lola was busy wiping down the tables. She glanced up, shot Rachel a satisfied look, then went back to work.

Zack took a pull from a bottle of mineral water. Rachel saw his eyes change, recognized the relief in them before the shutters came down.

"Hey, barkeep-" Rachel slid onto a stool "-got any coffee?"

"Sure."

"Make it two," she said, sending a meaningful glance in Nick's direction. He said nothing, but he did sit beside her.

"There's an old Ukrainian tradition," she began when Zack set the cups on the bar. "It's called a family meeting. Are you up for it?"

"Yeah." Zack inclined his head toward his brother. "I guess I can handle it. What about you?"

"I'm here," Nick muttered.

"Hey." A man, obviously well on his way to being drunk, leaned heavily on the bar a few stools away. "Am I going to get another bourbon over here?"

"Nope." Carrying the pot, Zack crossed over. "But you can have coffee on the house."

The man scowled through red-rimmed eyes. "What the h.e.l.l are you, a social worker?"

"That's me."

"I said I want a d.a.m.n drink."

"You're not going to get another one here."

The drunk reached out and grabbed a handful of Zack's sweater.

Considering Zack's size, Rachel took this to be a testament to the bourbon already in his system.

"This a bar or a church?"

Something flickered in Zack's eyes. Rachel recognized it, and was slipping out of her seat when Nick clamped a warning hand on hers.

"He'll handle it," he said simply. Zack lowered his gaze to the hands on his sweater, then shifted it back to the irate customer's face. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly mild. "Funny you should ask. I knew this guy once, down in New Orleans. He favored bourbon, too. One night he went from bar to bar, knocking them back, then staggering back out on the street. Story goes that he got so blind drunk he wandered into a church, thinking it was another bar. Weaved his way up to the front-you know, where the altar is? Slammed his fist down and ordered himself a double. Then he dropped dead. Stone dead." Zack pried the fingers from his sweater.

"The way I figure it, if you drink enough bourbon so you don't know where you are, you could wake up dead in church."

The man swore and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the coffee. "I know where the h.e.l.l I am."

"That's good news. We hate hauling out corpses."

Rachel heard Nick's m.u.f.fled chuckle and grinned. "Truth or lie?" she whispered.

"Probably some of both. He always knows how to handle the drunks."

"He wasn't doing very well with the blonde earlier."

"What blonde?"

"Another story," Rachel said, and smiled into her coffee. "Another time.

Listen, would you be more comfortable doing this upstairs, or-' She broke off when she heard a crash from the kitchen. "Lord, it sounds like Rio knocked over the refrigerator." She started to rise and go check.

Then froze. The kitchen door swung open. Rio staggered out, blood running down his face from a wound on his forehead. Behind him was a man in a stocking mask. He was holding a very large gun to Rio's throat.

"Party time," he snarled, then shoved the big man forward with the b.u.t.t of the gun. "Jumped me," Rio said in disgust as he staggered against the bar. "Come in front upstairs."

There was a quick giggle as two more armed men, their features distorted by their nylon masks, stepped in. "Don't anybody move." One of them accentuated the order by blasting away at the ship's bell over the bar. It clanged wildly.

"Lock the front door, you jerk." The first man gestured furiously. "And no shooting unless I say so. Everybody empty their pockets on the bar.

Make it fast." He gestured the third man into position so that the whole bar was covered. "Wallets, jewelry, too. Hey, you." He lifted the barrel of the gun toward Lola. "Dump out those tips, sweetheart. You look like you'd earn plenty."

Nick didn't move. Couldn't. He knew the voice. Despite the distorted features, all three gunmen were easy for him to recognize. T.J.'s giggle and shambling walk. Cash's battered denim jacket. The scar on Reece's wrist where an Hombre blade had caught him.

These were his friends. His family.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" he demanded as T.J. pranced around the bar, scooping the take into a laundry bag.

"Empty them," Reece demanded.

"You've got to be crazy."

"Do it!" He swung the barrel toward Rachel. "And shut the h.e.l.l up."

Nick kept his eyes on Reece as he complied. "This is the end, man. You crossed the line."

Behind the mask, Reece only grinned. "On the floor!" he shouted.

"Facedown, hands behind your heads. Not you," he said to Zack. "You empty out the cash register. And you-" he grabbed Rachel's arm "-you look like mighty fine insurance. Anybody gets any ideas, I cash her in."

"Leave her the h.e.l.l-"

"Nick!" Zack's quick and quiet order cut him off. "Back off." As he emptied the till, he watched Reece. "You don't need her."

"But I like her."

Rachel swallowed as the hand tightened on her arm, squeezing experimentally.

"Fresh meat," he called out, smacking his lips. T.J. erupted into giggles.

"Maybe we'll take you along with us, sweet thing. Show you a real good time."

The furious retort burned the tip of her tongue. Rachel gritted her teeth against it. The heel of her foot on his instep, she thought. An elbow to his windpipe. She could do it, and the idea of taking him out had her blood pumping fast. But if she did, she knew the other two would open fire.

When Nick strained forward, Reece locked his arm around Rachel's throat. "Try it, dishwasher." His teeth flashed in a brutal challenge. "Do it, man. Take me on."