Part 6 (2/2)
He took a few more steps over to the reception desk. With a deep sinking in my heart, I knew he might as well have taken a thousand steps. Arlo Beavers just walked out of my life.
I spent the night crying. What was wrong with me? Why did I take such a stupid risk? Poor Arthur almost died protecting me. What for? I'd just lost the best man I'd ever known. Oh, G.o.d, I probably couldn't fix what I'd broken. On top of everything, that pretty doctor's flirty smile flashed through my mind. More tears.
Sleep finally came at around four. At nine, the phone woke me up.
”You okay?” Crusher asked.
”No. Arthur's in the hospital and Arlo has left me.” I started crying all over again, wallowing in misery. I didn't even think to ask if he and the other bikers were okay. After all, they went into combat for me. Saved me.
”I'm just a rotten person,” I sobbed.
”I'm coming over with some strong coffee, babe.”
To heck with Weight Watchers. ”Bring some donuts,” I sniffed.
I put on my bathrobe. My b.l.o.o.d.y clothes lay on the bathroom floor, right where I dropped them last night before taking a shower. I scooped them up, went to the kitchen, and put them in the trash, along with the b.l.o.o.d.y rag I'd used to clean my car. Then I fed b.u.mper and cleaned his litter box. Arthur's dishes sat empty on the floor. I washed them in the sink, arrows piercing my heart.
A huge white Dodge Ram, with just about the biggest tires I'd ever seen, pulled up in front of my house. I stood at the living-room window. Crusher limped up my walkway, carrying a large paper bag from Western Donuts and a cardboard tray with two giant cups of coffee.
I opened the door and he walked straight to the sofa, sitting down gingerly. This giant of a man, with gray creeping into his red beard, was way north of forty; yet he fought like a young gladiator last night and came away with one swollen eye and hands covered with cuts and bruises.
I sat down on the other end of the sofa. ”I never got a chance to thank you for saving Arthur and me last night.”
”I've gotta be honest, babe. You were smart to bring the dog along. If he hadn't jumped in, we might've been too late.”
I opened the bag of donuts. How does he know I love apple fritters? I reached in and took out a glazed hunk of deep fried dough and cinnamon apples the size of a salad plate. ”What happened after I left last night?”
”The minute we saw Switch grab you, we came down like his worst nightmare. None of us really got jammed, but we busted up those other guys pretty bad. They probably put Switch in the hospital.” Crusher grinned. ”I recall he somehow got stuck with his own knife. By the time the cops got there, we were dust. Did you get anything useful outta him?”
”Two names, Javier and Graciela, but names alone don't do us much good. We don't even know how to find them. You got hurt, and Arlo's dog almost got killed.” I couldn't stop the tears. ”Arlo was so angry-he broke up with me.”
Crusher watched me silently as I wept. ”He's a fool if he did.” Then he slid over next to me, put one arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest with his other. I felt like I sank into the middle of a giant inner tube that smelled like a mixture of gasoline and Tide.
As nice as Crusher tried to be, this didn't feel right. I pulled back and gave my head a firm shake. I didn't want him to get any ideas.
Somewhere a cell phone rang. Crusher reached in his pocket. ”Yeah. When? Okay. Meet you there.”
He stood up. ”Ed's on his way home. The cops couldn't hold him any longer without charging him. They don't have enough evidence and his lawyer knows it. I'm going over there now.”
I blew my nose in a Kleenex. ”Thanks for everything, Yossi.”
”Don't worry, babe. I'll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 12.
I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the bathroom mirror, horrified at my splotchy red skin and puffy eyes. Even my graying curls were drooping sadly. I looked every bit my fifty-five years-and felt even worse. The trauma and stress of the last few days caused my fibromyalgia to flare. My body ached all over and all I wanted to do was crawl in bed, pull a quilt over my head, and escape the reality of the damage I'd caused.
I swallowed a Soma, my go-to medication for muscle pain, and headed for the bedroom. There was a firm knocking on my front door. I looked out the peephole. Beavers!
I opened the door and stared hopefully at his face. I wanted him back. Wanted him to forgive me.
He had a firm jaw as he walked past me, with grim determination, into the kitchen.
”How's Arthur?” was all I could think to say.
”I've come for his things. He'll need them when he gets out of the hospital.”
”So he's going to be all right? The surgery went well?”
Beavers scooped up Arthur's bowls and bag of dog food. ”If you really cared about him, you wouldn't have put him in such danger.”
”But I do care! I'm devastated he got hurt.”
”You should have thought of that before you took my dog with your biker friends. I might be able to put up with your stubbornness. Even your selfishness. But you deliberately lied to me!”
”But-”
”Cut the c.r.a.p. If I can't trust you, I can't be with you-especially because of what I do for a living. If you want to ride with the outlaws, be my guest, but you can't have it both ways.”
”Arlo, I'm not riding with the outlaws. I'm-”
”Whose truck is in front of your house?”
By the accusing tone in his voice, I knew he already knew. He'd probably run the plates through the system as soon as he spotted the truck.
Beavers looked at the two coffee cups and remnants of donuts on my coffee table. ”Levy was here this morning.” He wasn't asking a question.
I couldn't speak.
He looked at my bathrobe. ”Last night?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Beavers tossed my house key on the hall table, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him.
I stood for a minute in the stunning silence that followed. Then I picked up my phone and called Lucy.
My voice shook. ”Can I come over?”
”What's wrong?”
”I'll tell you when I get there.” I put on my clothes and hurried over to my best friend's house.
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