“And now for some local news,” the announcer said. “Cable cars came to a standstill while forty arrests were being made at the protest in Union Square yesterday. . . .”
She marched to the counter. Yep. There they were in a plastic case with a lock right behind the clerk. Oh, dear. Pleasure Pack. Thintensity, Magnum. Skyn. Do they have to be named things only guys would ever say? She’d have to yell over the radio. “Uh, can . . . can I buy some condoms please?”
Wally gave her a smirk. “Guess he’s feeling better.”
She gave an embarrassed smile and felt the blush creeping up her neck. “Yeah. Newlyweds and all.”
“The City Supervisors voted to help make case for same-sex marriage in the Supreme Court by filing a brief as a friend of the court. . . .”
“Well, what’s your pleasure, so to speak? We got your flavored kinds. We got the special ribbed ones. And the ones that vibrate.” He lifted his brows and wiggled them.
Yuck. “Trojans will be fine.”
His hand hovered over several of the boxes labeled: Magnum. “Size?”
“Uh.” She swallowed. “Extralarge?”
“Lucky man,” Wally said wistfully, handing her a box. The door behind her must have opened. She heard the bell.
“The murder rate is climbing again in the city. . . .”
“Lucy?”
Oh, God. She knew that voice. Brad.
A thousand thoughts flashed through her brain. Fear predominated, though. Stupid. She was going to seek him out tomorrow anyway. He was just a little early.
“Brad.” She turned. It was Brad all right—pressed chinos, sage green IZOD golf shirt, Bruno Magli penny loafers with no socks, and all.
“Where have you been, Lucy?” he asked, his brow darkening.
“Oh, Brad, I have been so silly. I started thinking all sorts of things. That you . . . and Casey . . . well, never mind. I got over it. I was going to come and find you tomorrow.”
Brad’s gaze roved over her face, as though he couldn’t actually believe it was her. It fell on the packages of condoms in her hands. He flushed, and it wasn’t in embarrassment.
“You’re fucking him. Of course you’re fucking him, you little whore. You weren’t coming to give yourself up. More like you were figuring out more ways to screw him while you screwed my career.” He was so mad he was sputtering.
“Brad!” Confusion, then outrage washed over her. What right had he to talk to her like that?
He strode forward and gripped her by the arm. “I’ve got the machine. Now you’re going to give me the diamond and the book and then you’re coming with me.”
“Hey!” Wally shouted, coming out from behind the counter.
“Butt out, creep,” Brad hissed, and jerked Lucy to the door. The clerk hovered uncertainly.
Lucy struggled. “Get your hands off me!”
“And in other news, the body found this morning floating in the water near Pier Forty has been identified as Jake Lowell, owner of the apartment building at 1632 Filbert . . .”
Both Brad and Lucy froze. “. . . beaten to death, Mr. Lowell’s death is attributed to gang violence. The Chief of Police has vowed to stop the gangs from terrorizing . . .”
Lucy looked at Brad. “Jake?” She couldn’t breathe. “Jake?”
Guilt flashed across Brad’s face. He might not have done this. But he knew who did. So did she. Casey.
And that meant they’d killed Jake to get to her . . . and Jake had been right all along.
“Come on,” Brad said through gritted teeth, coming to himself. She tried to pull back, but he dragged her toward the door.
“Hey!” the clerk yelled. “I’ll . . . I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead!” Brad yelled over his shoulder. “You’ll be up on charges of harboring a fugitive.”
“A fugitive!” Wally hustled back behind the counter. “Hey, I don’t know who she is.”
“Keep it that way.” Brad shoved out the door, dragging Lucy with him. Fear coiled in her belly. Why had she come up here alone? She staggered across the parking lot behind him, twisting to loosen his grip.
“You’re not taking me anywhere. I’ll give you the diamond. But then Galen and I—”
“Galen and you?” Brad turned, his face twisted into a mask of fury. “You two-timing . . . and to think I was about to ask you to marry me. . . .” He took her other arm above the elbow so tightly it would leave bruises and shook her. She’d never seen someone so angry. It was frightening on some elemental level. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think, as her teeth jarred and her head snapped. “You took my love, and you pissed on it.”
Brad loved her? “We . . . were friends,” she gasped. “I thought we were friends.”
“Like hell you did. You played me. You made me fall in love with you.” Somewhere she heard a dog barking. Brad paused for breath and raised his arm.
“Brad . . .” She tried to get a hand up to block the blow, but she was too late. The arm came down. At least he hit her openhanded. Her head snapped, her whole face stinging.
A presence loomed behind Brad. A big hand on his shoulder jerked him away. Lucy staggered back as Galen whipped Brad around. Galen. Relief swamped her. A look of stunned surprise flooded Brad’s face just before Galen’s fist connected to his cheekbone and he went sprawling on the pavement.
Vandal barked, deep in his chest, as he circled Brad.
Galen’s face didn’t show the same blind fury as Brad’s had, just grim determination. But Lucy’s relief vanished nonetheless. Galen’s blue eyes were hard as ice chips. He glanced to her to make sure she was okay, then bore down on Brad, who scooted away on his butt.
“Hey,” Brad said. “You can’t—”
Galen leaned down, grabbed Brad by the throat with one hand. His left hand joined his right and lifted Brad off his feet. “You harm my Lucy?” he growled.
Lucy saw his fingers tighten around Brad’s throat, digging into the flesh. Brad kicked ineffectually and started to gurgle, clawing at Galen’s fingers. Vandal pulled on one of Brad’s pant legs, growling. Lucy scrambled up from the asphalt. “Galen, Galen, you’ll kill him.”
“Ja,” Galen said through gritted teeth. “I acwell him.” He shook Brad, whose face was now turning violent red, shading into purple. Veins stood out on his forehead.
Lucy pulled at Galen’s shoulder. “You can’t.”
He shook her off. Obviously, he thought he could. At that moment a dark stain bloomed over the fly on Brad’s pressed chinos and the smell of urine flooded the air. A stream of it ran down his leg and pooled on the asphalt. Vandal leaped back and began his circling bark again. Brad’s tongue jutted out through his mouth. In another moment it would be too late.
“I’ll never forgive myself if you kill him,” Lucy said quietly.
That seemed to get through to Galen as her shouts had not. He grunted in disgust and tossed Brad to the pavement. Supporting himself on shaky arms, Brad heaved in a breath and then another. At least he wasn’t dead. His first breaths were followed immediately by heaves as the contents of his stomach spewed onto the asphalt.
Galen stood rooted to the earth, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Vandal, come,” Lucy said. The dog stopped barking to look her way; then, to Lucy’s surprise, he actually came to her side, panting.
“You are not enough for Lucy,” Galen growled at Brad, his own chest heaving. “You live by her mild-heartness only. You go now.”
Brad didn’t need encouragement. He scrambled to his feet and tottered to his car. He was going to have dandy finger-shaped bruises around his neck. “You were just a charity case,” he croaked, rubbing his throat as he leaned against the Jag. “Like a rescue dog. I took you on because I felt sorry for you when no other man would have you.”
Lucy hoped he didn’t have a gun in the car. She tried to pull Galen away, but he was still making like “pillar of Stonehenge.”