Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) Page 3

  Kenny nudged Mat to the side and put his mug in the small sink. “You’re killing me.”

  “What? Why?”

  Kenny rolled his eyes, the expression almost as exaggerated as his heavy sigh. “Because you are.”

  “Like that makes sense. You know, this is why I’d rather room with Justin instead of you. You’re all—” Mat waved his hands around, searching for the right word. He gave up and blew out a deep breath. “You’re just a pain in the ass.”

  Kenny didn’t say anything, just watched him with one raised eyebrow. That was another thing that annoyed Mat. Even though Kenny talked more than he used to when he first joined the team, he was still too quiet at times, always noticing too much. And always doing that one eyebrow thing. How the fuck did he do that? Mat couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t do it no matter how hard he tried. He just ended up looking like some psychotic owl on crack.

  “Whatever you say.” He glanced down at his watch then gave Mat a pointed look. “If you’re planning on joining us, you better get ready. We need to meet everyone else in forty minutes.”

  “Meet for what?” The words had barely left his mouth before the answer came to him. Everyone was getting together for a walking tour of the Quarter, at Emily’s insistence.

  “At that café place for coffee and donuts.”

  “Beignets. They’re called beignets.”

  “I don’t care what fancy word you want to use, they’re donuts.”

  “Dude, donuts have holes. These don’t.”

  “You’re really going to argue with me on this?”

  “No. I’m just trying to help broaden your horizons.”

  Kenny rolled his eyes again then pointed to his watch. “You’re not going to do anything if you don’t get moving. I figured you’d want to get there early to see your girl again.”

  A broad smile split Mat’s face. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner, for having Kenny point out the obvious. That had to be why Nicole left early: to get ready for the tour. It made perfect sense now.

  His grin grew even wider as he pushed past Kenny and hurried to his room, suddenly eager to get ready and leave. He ignored the off-key humming from Kenny, refused to even give him a dirty look when he recognized it as the Wedding March. What the hell did he know, anyway? Just because Mat had one night of fun didn’t mean he was looking to get married.

  Twenty minutes later, Mat was ready to sucker punch Kenny. If he didn’t stop humming that stupid song, he was going to do exactly that. He turned and rammed his elbow into Kenny’s side then jumped out of the way when the man’s coffee sloshed over the rim of the white cup. Kenny just laughed, but Derek gave him a frown when some of the coffee splashed on Bridget. She narrowed her eyes at the two of them then pushed away from the cramped table, muttering something about little kids as she walked away, probably to get some napkins to clean up the mess.

  Guilt swept over Mat and he went to stand, knowing Bridget shouldn’t be the one to clean up the mess he made. Derek stopped him with a quick kick in the ankle, his frown even deeper.

  “What is your problem, Herron?”

  “He thinks he’s in love.”

  “Dude, shut up. I told you before—”

  “In love? Who with?”

  “Nobody—”

  “Some girl he picked up last night.”

  “Kenny, I said—”

  “Last night?” Derek looked away from Kenny, his eyes narrowing on Mat. He shifted under Derek’s look, the metal chair suddenly too hard, too uncomfortable, the air around him suddenly too hot and humid. Mat cleared his throat and reached for the plate of beignets. He popped one into his mouth, ignoring the generous dusting of powdered sugar that coated his fingers and drifted onto his shirt. If his mouth was full, he couldn’t talk, couldn’t answer the questions that filled Derek’s eyes as his friend stared at him in disbelief.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Mat looked away, heat filling his face as he tried to chew the fried dough. And shit, now he needed something to drink, something to wash the dough and powdered sugar from his dry mouth.

  Then he forgot all about drinking anything because Derek burst out in laughter. Not a small chuckle, but a full-blown belly laugh that doubled him over. Mat narrowed his eyes, suddenly wishing he could talk, wishing he could tell Derek to shut the hell up. He chewed faster, resisting the urge to swallow the partially-eaten dough so he wouldn’t choke. He’d love to choke Derek, though. That thought stayed with him even as Derek’s laughter slowly faded.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Mat shook his head, trying to tell Kenny that nothing was funny, wishing to hell they would just change the subject. He looked around, wishing Bridget would hurry back to the table. If Bridget was here, maybe Derek would stop acting like an ass.

  But there was no sign of Bridget. And great, here came JP and Ian—without Emily and Kayli. Where the hell were all the women? Mat finally spotted them across the open-air room, walking into the kitchen. No doubt heading to the restrooms tucked back into the corner there.

  “The girl from last night? Was she sporting a half-sleeve, all tatted up? That one?”

  Mat shook his head at Kenny and tried to kick him under the table, but he couldn’t reach him in time.

  “I only got a glimpse when she left this morning but yeah, that sounds like her.”

  “Oh man.” Derek laughed again then reached for his iced coffee and took a long swallow. “I told you she wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Who’s not a good idea?” JP and Ian reached the table, hovering on either side of Derek. He glanced up at them then looked back at Mat, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  “The girl Mat picked up in last night and took back to his room.”

  “You? No way.” JP shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Mat finally choked down the last of the beignet and reached for his own coffee, washing the last bit of powdered sugar from his mouth.

  “I did not pick her up.”

  “Yeah, you did. And she is so not your type.”

  Mat opened his mouth to disagree but Kenny spoke over him. Again.

  “I don’t know. She was pretty. I admit I was surprised about the tattoos, though.” Kenny nodded then glanced over at Mat. “Derek’s right. Ink isn’t really your style.”

  “That is so—”

  “I’m not talking about the tattoos.” Derek shook his head one more time, the smile finally dying as he stared at Mat. “I’m talking about her being married.”

  Stunned silence swept over the table, made louder because it was so out of place among the conversations and laughter and street noise that surrounded them. Mat blinked, the beignet and powdered sugar turning to concrete in his gut. He opened his mouth but only a strangled sound came out.

  “No fucking way. She’s married?” Kenny turned in his seat and stared at Mat, his dark eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Holy shit, Mat.”

  A thousand different words whirled through Mat’s mind, all of them some form of denial. A chill filled him, chasing away the heat and humidity that had been threatening to suffocate him moments earlier. His stomach turned, a sickening twisting that threatened to reject what little was in it.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Derek had to be wrong. This had to be a mistake. Nicole hadn’t been wearing a ring, he had looked.

  His mind latched onto that, even though he knew it meant absolutely nothing. No. No way. She couldn’t be married. Derek had to be wrong.

  “Well, I guess that takes care of your reputation as a saint, eh?”

  JP’s words barely registered. Nothing registered. Not the noise around them, not the oddly mixed scents of sweet dough and strong coffee and New Orleans in the heat. Not the laughing words of Bridget and Emily and Kayli as they approached the small table.

  She’s married.

  The words repeated in his mind, over and over with dizzying speed, threatening to turn his st
omach inside out.

  Nicole was married.

  What the hell did I do?

  “Holy shit.”

  “Mat, breathe—”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  The voices swirled around him, a word here and there reaching him but nothing making sense.

  Fuck. What the hell had he done? This was a nightmare come to life. Regret, guilt, recrimination. Disbelief. How could this have happened? This couldn’t be happening.

  A part of him—a very small part—wondered if he was overreacting. It had been a mistake, one he hadn’t realized he was making. Did that excuse him? Some small, rational part of him was saying yes, it did. He didn’t know, had no way of knowing, wasn’t responsible for what he didn’t know.

  No, that wasn’t his conscience speaking, it was Kenny. Leaning over him, his large hand banging him on the back between his shoulder blades, his deep voice lowered into a gravelly whisper.

  “You didn’t know, man. It’s not your fault.”

  But it was. He should have asked, should have checked. Fuck. She hadn’t been wearing a ring. Why the fuck would he have thought to ask?

  “Oh my God, he’s hyperventilating. Mat, bend over. You need to bend over.” A cool hand, small and feminine, clasped the back of his neck and forced him to lean forward. Bridget? Yes, he could see the sun playing in the red of her hair from the corner of his eye. He tensed, wanting to argue with her, then gave in and bent over, wrapping his arms around his waist and trying to catch his breath.

  “What did you guys do to him?” Emily’s voice, filled with disbelief and accusation, came from his other side. Hands rubbed his back, gentle and cool through the wicking fabric of his polo shirt. Mat squeezed his eyes closed, watched the black spots slowly disappear from the inside of his lids.

  “I did nothing, ma chere. It was Derek.”

  “Derek?” Bridget’s hand stilled on his back. Mat sensed her stiffen, sensed her turn toward Derek. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing, I swear!”

  “You must have done something.”

  Mat groaned and tried to sit up, tried to turn his head and silently tell Derek not to say anything. It was bad enough he was already making an ass out of himself in front of the girls. He didn’t want them to know what he’d done, didn’t want their opinion of him to change if they found out.

  But Derek wasn’t paying him any attention, his focus completely on Bridget. His expression changed, going from humor—no doubt at Mat’s theatrics—to conciliation.

  “Honest, Bridget, we didn’t do anything. Mat just found out that the girl he was with last night—”

  “No!”

  “—is married.” Derek snapped his mouth closed and looked over at Mat but it was too late. The words were already out. Mat groaned again and leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands.

  The silence following Derek’s admission only lasted for a few seconds. A few, very long seconds. Mat felt three pairs of eyes on him, felt their surprise and disbelief. He held his breath, waiting for their judgement, for their censure. Nobody moved. Or maybe it was just Mat’s imagination, his own guilt that was making him sense things that weren’t really there.

  Bridget was the first to speak, confusion clear in both her voice and her gaze as she looked first at Mat then at Derek. Her brows lowered, her green eyes flashing. “Who are you talking about?”

  Mat wanted to tell Derek to just shut up, tell him he had already done enough damage. But Derek didn’t even look at him, just squirmed under Bridget’s gaze and finally shrugged with a long sigh.

  “Your friend. The one with the tattoos.”

  “Nicole? Nicole Taylor?”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  Mat nodded, still not quite able to look at Bridget. At any of them.

  “She’s not married.”

  Mat’s head shot up. “What?”

  “But you said—”

  “Dude, shut up.” Mat sliced his hand through the air, cutting Derek off. He looked up at Bridget, something close to relief filling him. “She’s not? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I guess maybe technically she still might be but—”

  “What do you mean, ‘technically’? She either is or she isn’t.”

  “She’s been separated for about two years. I don’t know if her divorce went through yet or not.”

  Mat slumped down in his chair and took a deep breath. A clear breath. The weight that had been sitting on his chest was gone. Mostly. He looked back up at Bridget then kicked Kenny. “Dude, go get me an ice coffee, let Bridget sit down so we can talk.”

  Kenny blushed and immediately pushed away from the table, muttering something as he held the chair out for Bridget. But she shook her head and glanced over at Emily then down at her watch.

  “Guys, we need to leave. The tour is getting ready to start and we still have to walk to the meeting point.”

  Chairs were pushed back from the table, the noise rough to Mat’s ears as everyone stood up, suddenly talking. Everyone except him. He looked around, noticed everyone starting to move away from the table. How could they leave? Didn’t they know he had questions? So many questions.

  He pushed to his feet and hurried to catch up, shortening his strides when he reached Bridget. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, silently asking her to wait as everyone moved ahead of them. She tilted her head and gave him a questioning look, then motioned for Derek to go ahead. He frowned at Mat, his irritation clear, then moved to catch up with everyone else.

  Mat jammed his hands into the front pockets of his shorts as they walked, several feet behind everyone else. “So she’s really not married?”

  Bridget shook her head, reaching up to tuck a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. “Not anymore, no.”

  Mat blew out a deep breath, relief filling him again. “Good. That’s good.” They walked a few more feet, Mat stumbling over an uneven brick before catching himself. “So, um, is there anything else I should know about her?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. You’re her friend. I just thought maybe you could tell me more about her. Maybe give me a few pointers or something.”

  They were almost to the tour office now. Mat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his attention drifting to the group gathered at the corner, his eyes searching for Nicole. He didn’t want anyone else to overhear their conversation—especially not Nicole. The entire morning was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to add to it. But he missed whatever Bridget had just said and he turned to her, offering her a small grin by way of apology.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “I said I can’t. I don’t really know her that well.”

  Mat frowned, wondering if he had missed more than he thought. “Don’t know who that well?”

  “Nicole.”

  “But—” Mat swallowed and cleared his throat, looked over his shoulder then back at Bridget. “I thought she was your friend.”

  Bridget shook her head. “Not really, no. I just know her from the hospital.”

  “Oh. I thought…well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I can just talk to her during the tour.”

  Bridget frowned, tilting her head to the side as she watched Mat. “She’s coming on the tour?”

  “Yeah. I mean, isn’t she?”

  “Why would she?”

  “Isn’t she here for the wedding party?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought…I mean, she’s here with you so I figured—”

  Bridget laughed, the sound soft and gentle. Any other time, her laughter would have lightened his mood. But not now. Instead, the sound filled him with anxiety, like something wasn’t quite right and was about to get worse.

  “Mat, she’s not here with me. I just happened to run into her last night.”

  “Oh. I thought…” His words drifted off and he glanced over at the crowd, saw their waves as they motioned for hi
m and Bridget to hurry up, to join them. He swallowed back his disappointment and forced a smile to his face. “Well, no worries. I’m sure I’ll run into her tonight.”

  Bridget’s hand folded around his arm, her touch gentle. He was sure she meant it to be reassuring but his gut twisted and knotted when he looked down at her, saw the worry in her soft eyes.

  “Mat, from what she told me last night, her flight was leaving this morning. She’s probably already on the way back home.”

  Chapter Three

  “Nikki! What are you doing?”

  The shriek echoed up the stairs and straight to the back of her neck, scraping every nerve along her spine and causing her to jerk back in the chair. Nicole grabbed the edge of the makeshift desk as the old chair tilted sideways, nearly dumping her to the floor. Her elbow hit the cup of water; it teetered, threatening to spill everywhere.

  “Dammit.” She grabbed the plastic cup just before it fell, holding it out to the side as she tried to regain her balance in the old chair. Her heart hammered in her chest and she took a deep breath, then another, trying to restore the frazzled edges of her nerves. Footsteps, hesitant but still loud, echoed outside the room, getting closer.

  Nicole closed her eyes and took one last deep breath, this one to steady her before the confrontation she knew was coming. It was always a confrontation, no matter what she did. Why did that still surprise her? And why, after all this time, did it still have the power to disappoint her?

  She reached for the computer mouse, trying to save the images on the screen and back out of the program. But it was too late; the steps were louder now, coming to a stop just inside the doorway to the small room. A hiss of disbelief, followed by a sigh that clearly expressed disappointment.

  “Really, Nikki? You’re still wasting your time with that nonsense?”

  “Could you please stop calling me that? And it’s not nonsense, Mom.” She didn’t bother turning around, already knowing what she’d see: her mother, leaning against the doorway, her thin lips pressed into a pale line of disapproval and censure. Nicole bit back the words that wanted to tumble from her mouth and focused on saving the latest files, on making sure they were properly backed up to three different locations. Paranoid? Overly cautious? To others, maybe. But it had only taken one time—one cruel act of spite—for her to learn her lesson the hard way.