nights later, he got liquored up, got his gun, and he broke into the house. He hit Mama so hard she still has a little scar here." Phoebe traced her fingers over her cheek. "He held the gun to her head, and he told me and Carter to go around, lock all the doors, the windows, close the curtains. We were all going to sit ourselves down, have a long talk.
"He kept us in there almost twelve hours. The police came, after a couple hours, I think. Reuben shot a few holes in the wall for sport, and the neighbors called the police. He yelled out he'd kill us all if they tried coming in. The brats first. Pretty soon, the police shut off the power. It was August, it was hot. Then Dave got him on the phone and kept him talking."
"He talked him into letting you go?"
"He kept him talking. That's the first rule. As long as Reuben was talking to Dave, he wasn't killing us. He would have; I could see it. Carter and me. Maybe not Mama because he'd gotten it into his head she belonged to him. But Dave got him talking about fishing. A long conversation about fishing, and kept us alive. But after a while, Reuben got himself worked up again. He was going to hurt Carter, I could feel it. So I distracted him, the way Dave had with the fishing. Between one thing and another, I got into the bathroom, unlocked the window in there, and I told Carter-bullied Carter-into going in first chance, getting out that way."
"You got your brother out," Duncan murmured.
"Reuben had a serious hard-on for Carter. He was going to hurt him." She told him then about fixing the meal, the sleeping pills. And of sitting in the hospital while they stitched up her mother's face, talking to Dave.
"He kept my family alive."
"And you got them out. Twelve years old."
"I wouldn't have had a family to get out if it hadn't been for Dave.
We moved into Cousin Bess's house after that, the house on Jones Street. Dave kept in touch. Lots of longer stories in all of that, but Dave talked to me about hostage and crisis negotiation. He thought I'd have a knack for it, and the perspective of what it's like on the other side. I wanted to please him, and it sounded exciting. So I trained, and I found out he was right. I have a knack for it."
She lifted her glass, half toast. "It's no lottery ticket, but it put me where I am."
"What happened to Reuben?"
"He died in prison. Pissed someone off enough for that someone to shove a shiv into him multiple times. As a moral woman, as an officer of the law, I'm obliged to deplore that sort of thing. I went out and bought a bottle of champagne, not quite up to these standards, but a very decent bottle. I enjoyed every drop of it."
"Glad to hear it." He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You've had an interesting life, Phoebe."
"Interesting?"
"Well, you can't claim to have lived in the rut of routine." She laughed. "No, I don't suppose I can."
"I've got some insight now on why I saw that purpose in you when you walked into Suicide Joe's apartment. And you have the sexiest green eyes."
She watched him with them as she sipped her champagne. "If you think because I've bared my soul, more or less, and have had several glasses of this lovely champagne, I'm going to slide down into the cabin and have wild sex with you, you're mistaken."
"Can we negotiate? Any other kind of sex a possibility?"
"I don't think so, but thanks all the same."
"How about a walk along the river where I can kiss you in the moonlight?"
"We can start with the walk."
He rose, took her hand. And as she came to her feet, he simply cupped the back of her neck to draw her mouth to his.
Warm lips and cool air, a hard body and a gentle touch. She gave in, gave up to the moment. Her fingers twined with his and curled tight as she leaned in for more.
He could feel the strength of her under the soft, soft skin. It was that, he knew, that had pulled at him from the first moment. Those contrasts, those complexities. There was nothing simple, nothing ordinary about her.
Yet he thought this could be simple-this one thing-this slowly building heat between them.
So the long, long kiss