Raw Deal(2)

       
           



       

So she let the subject drop. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little. I can't go back over there, though. Can we sit here until it's over?"

"Sounds wonderful to me."

"Thank you, Savannah. I love you." Rowan nestled her head on Savannah's  shoulder. Savannah held her, stroking her arm, and glanced up at the  sky. The eagle was gone.



It was often said there was nothing more depressing than a funeral in the rain. Mike Larson begged to differ.

It was far more depressing, he thought, for the sky to be blue and  cloudless above, for the birds to be singing from high perches in trees  budded with new springtime life, while the group of mourners down the  hill stood as if frozen in wintry grief.

He knew how that felt. For the earth to dare to keep on spinning while you were falling apart.

"This ain't the time, man," his brother said. "I keep telling you. You  can't crash a family's private memorial service. It just isn't done."

Mike glanced over at Zane and nodded. "I know. You're right." Since  learning about the service, he'd had the driving, irresistible urge to  show up, do something, at least say something, but now that he was here .  . . what was there to do or say? Tommy Dugas was down there in a  casket, about to be-well, whatever they were about to do to him. He  couldn't really tell, as the family was gathered around the opening of  what looked like a marble mausoleum. Back home in Houston, Dugas  would've been buried in the ground. But right now Mike and his brother  stood among dozens of similar structures to the one surrounded by the  family, some with elaborate statues and carvings, some plain, some  pristine, some weathered, all situated like houses along narrow streets.  But however anyone looked at it, and wherever Dugas was going, Mike was  responsible for putting him there. He was the last fucking person the  family would want to lay eyes on right now, or ever.

"Then why are we here? This place is creeping me out. I see why they  call them cities of the dead." Dark sunglasses shielded Zane's eyes and  his long black hair was tucked up into a ball cap, his standard disguise  when he went out in public even though Mike always jokingly tried to  assure him he wasn't that famous. Fact was, though, with hit singles on  the radio and smack in the middle of a sold-out US – Canadian tour, the  kid might very well get taken down by fangirls anywhere he went.

"I don't know."

"Then can we go?"

Might as well. Mike should have known he'd get all the way out here and  punk out. Facing Tommy in the fighting cage had been one thing. There,  Mike was in control of his fate and no one else. Facing Tommy's grieving  family was another matter entirely. Words had never been his strong  point. "Go sing your songs. I didn't ask you to come here." Zane's tour  stop happened to be in New Orleans tonight, but when Mike had called him  to tell him he was flying over from Houston, his brother insisted on  coming along to the cemetery . . . mostly to talk him out of whatever he  was going to do.

What am I going to do? Apparently, he wasn't going to do shit.

Zane checked his watch. "I do need to go for sound check. You staying over?"

It wasn't like he had anything else to do. "Might as well."

"Cool. Let's go." Zane turned to lead Mike back to the black Escalade  they'd commandeered back at the concert venue. "I might even let you  have one of my groupies. You look keyed up."

"You know that's not my style." If he was keyed up, it was because he'd  come all the way out here just to lose his nerve. But what did you say  to the family you'd destroyed? I'm sorry? Jesus.

Just as they were about to round a corner and lose sight of Tommy's  mourners, though, Mike noticed two women break away from the others-one  of them practically holding the other up-and disappear between two  glaringly white aboveground crypts. He was a good distance from them and  he'd only caught a glimpse, but he thought he remembered them both from  front row at the fight. The one who had barely been able to walk was  petite and blond, the other tall, willowy, and dark haired. "Hey, just a  minute," he told his brother, not even waiting for Zane's response. He  trotted in the direction the girls had gone, but of course Zane was  right on his heels. Such had been the case ever since the little shit  was born.

"What is it?"

"Two girls who were at the service. I think they were at the fight too. They might be leaving."

"Then it's not anyone who'd relish seeing your face right now."                       
       
           



       

Maybe not, but facing two was less daunting than facing many, and maybe  he could get a feel for the situation. He had to try, damn it; he felt a  responsibility to be here. To see the anguish he'd caused up close.  Didn't he deserve that much, at least? If all those girls wanted to do  was rage and curse at him, didn't he deserve that too?

As usual, Zane seemed to read his mind. "Don't let your guilt goad you  into doing something you'll regret, dude. You're punishing yourself  enough, don't let them punish you on top of it. It wasn't your fault and  you know it. It was just shit luck."

Shit luck was all he'd ever known, and apparently he couldn't shake it.  When he'd made a name for himself in the MMA cage, he'd thought maybe  he'd finally left the bad times behind, that fortune would smile on him  at last. But shit luck hadn't forgotten his name after all, and whatever  happened when he came face-to-face with those women, Zane didn't need  to witness it too.

"I don't need backup," he snapped at his brother.

"Well, you've got it."

Great. He couldn't worry about him right now, though; his target had  reappeared. They were sitting on a bench, and as he watched, the blonde  leaned into the other one, laying her head on the brunette's shoulder.  She tipped her head back to look searchingly at the sky, revealing the  long, graceful lines of her neck, and the closer he got, the more  entranced he became. A week ago she been nothing more than another  stricken face amid the chaos, but now he saw she had a lovely, classic  profile, and her chestnut hair shimmered in the sunlight in a way it  hadn't under the stadium lights. Shit, she was beautiful. He almost  forgot why he was there . . . but then her gaze flickered to him.

Eyes widening, she shot up from the bench, apparently forgetting the  other girl who'd been leaning on her. Her jaw worked but no sounds came  out.

The blonde didn't have that problem. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, struggling to her feet. "How dare you-"

"Rowan, please," the dark-haired woman said. Her voice was soft, somehow  as warm as the sunlight even in this terrible, awkward situation, and  it quieted Rowan immediately. God, who are you? Mike wondered.

"Ladies," he ventured, noticing the tear-stained cheeks, the sad eyes,  the down-turned mouths. All his fault. "I just needed to come tell you,  your family . . . I'm sorry for your loss."

"I . . . Savannah, I can't." The woman named Rowan put a hand to her  mouth and stalked away. Mike watched her until she was gone, feeling  desolate, and noticed that Zane had been busy watching her go, too.  Helplessly, he swung his gaze back to the other one. Savannah.

"I should go after her," she said, taking a few steps to do so.

"Wait. Please." Mike put a hand out but stopped short of touching her.  "I might be crazy for being here. I know it's the wrong time. I just  wanted to know if there's anything . . ." He drew a breath. "Anything I  can do."

Savannah pulled her full lips between her teeth as tears welled in her  eyes. She wiped at them, every movement seeming frustrated. "I think you  did enough."

"You have to know that was not my intention."

Her eyebrows rose. "I have to?"

Shit. He sucked at this. "No, I only mean I hope you understand. Maybe  you can't right now, I don't know. I don't even know who you are, I just  wanted Tommy's family to know I'm sorry."

"Tommy was my big brother. The woman you just scared away was his wife.  They had only been married a couple of years. She sees your face in her  nightmares. There's nothing you could ever do that would even come close  to replacing what she's lost."

"I know," he told her. He could see the resemblance between the siblings  now: the dark hair, dark eyes, chiseled features. "I see Tommy's face  in my nightmares too."

Something softened in Savannah's expression. Zane clapped a hand on  Mike's shoulder, a let's get the hell out of here gesture. His little  brother had been right all along; he shouldn't have come. He gave  Savannah a nod and turned to head back to the Escalade.

A simple, soft "Wait" behind him stopped him in his tracks. He looked  back. She cast a glance at the rest of her family, then took a few steps  forward to close much of the distance between the two of them. This  close, he could smell her: a faint hint of something sweet and  mysterious. This close, he could see that her hair caught a few reddish  highlights in the sun. "Would you meet me somewhere later? For coffee?  If you really want to talk, I'll listen." Relief rushed through him,  though the direct way she looked at him made his heart do strange  things. It was as if she could strip through his mind layer by layer,  exposing the truths at the core. She was welcome to them, but she might  not like what she would find.