can’t.”
“Yeah, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“If not for her, than as a favor to me? Come on, Spike, I’ve waited for years for that woman to notice a man. She sees you. Last night, she spent the whole party waiting for you to walk through the door. She’s really—”
“Stop.” God, something close to panic was fanning in his chest. He had to open his mouth to breathe. “Sean, I don’t—”
“I know you like her—”
“Just…stop it.” His voice sounded choked, even to him, and Sean obviously thought the same thing because the guy shut up.
Spike rubbed his hair. “Ah, hell, buddy…You’re right, I do like her. She is special. I would love to be with her. But even if she was attracted to me, and I don’t think she is in spite of what you say, I’m not the kind of man she’s going to want to be with or bring home.”
“What a load of horse—” Sean ended the statement with a four-letter word. “I haven’t known you very long, but you’re one of my best friends. And I’m a damn good judge of character. So is Mad, by the way.”
“Sean, listen to me. I’m not right for her.”
“Why? Give me one damn good reason. And it better not be the tats on your neck because I know for a fact they turn women on.”
Spike looked down at his combat boots. Took a deep breath. “You say you haven’t known me long? Well, you also don’t know a lot about me. I’ve got a heavy-duty past, O’Banyon.”
“Like what?”
Spike exhaled on a shudder. God, was he really going to do this?
He locked stares with Sean.
Yeah, he thought, he really was.
“Five and a half years at Comstock for manslaughter. That’s maximum-security prison, Sean, and I did the crime. I killed a man. I killed him with my bare hands and I went to prison for it.”
As his friend’s hazel eyes peeled wide open, Spike wanted to curse. Damn it, he didn’t want to lose Sean over this, he really didn’t. But it wasn’t like you could soft-pedal what he’d done. A human life taken was a shocking thing, as it should be.
“That’s some hard time,” Sean murmured. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-four when I did what I did. Twenty-five when I went in.”
“Would you do it again?”
“If the circumstances were the same? Yeah. I would.”
There was a long pause. “What happened?”
“Someone was beating my sister with a baseball bat. While screaming that he loved her. It was her life or her abuser’s. I picked her.”
Sean’s shoulders eased up. “I’m glad you told me. And not just because of Mad.”
“So do you understand why I can’t go with her? Why I couldn’t pursue her even if she’d have me?”
“No, actually, I don’t. I’m willing to bet that if you told—”
“Already tried that on a woman once. Most females don’t feel comfortable around a killer and I can’t blame them. What I did…it doesn’t sit well with me, either.”
“Mad’s not most women.”
Spike shrugged. “Maybe so. But I know for sure she could find someone better to help her out of this little family storm she’s heading into.”
“I think you underestimate her.” Sean shook his head. “Still, it’s your decision. And no, I won’t tell her anything.”
“Except that I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
There was another long silence between them. Spike could feel Sean searching his face and knew the guy was running through all the implications of what had been revealed. Someone like Sean O’Banyon, big, fancy, finance guru that he was, was not going to want to hang with a violent felon, not with the high profile the guy had.
“It’s okay, Sean,” Spike said softly. “I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“No prejudice, man. You and I can just go our separate ways. I’ll disappear quietly.”
Sean’s lips thinned as he glowered. “Let me get this straight. You think I’d dump your friendship because of this?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“You’re such a lunatic.”
Before Spike could say another word, two meaty arms shot out and pulled him into a fierce hug. Sean clapped him on the back hard enough to make his molars sing and then let go.
“Here’s the deal, Spike. I’ve got a juvenile record that has been thankfully buried somewhere in a courthouse back in South Boston. And I do business with white-collar thieves all the time. So no, I’m not punting on you because of this. Jeez, what kind of lightweight loser do you think I am?”
As Sean glared, Spike cleared his throat, choking down a wave of gratitude.
“We’re solid, Spike. You and me are cool. Got it? Got it?”
“Yeah, all right,” Spike said hoarsely. “Good deal.”
Up in the penthouse, Mad took care of the remaining dishes and washed the pans. Then she went into the guest room.
The bed Spike had slept in was made up perfectly. The pillows were all arranged neatly. The duvet was square on the mattress and smoothed out. The sheets had been tucked in.
It was as if he’d never lain there.
She went over and sat on the chaise. She couldn’t totally blame Spike for thinking what he had about the invitation. It had come from out of left field and they didn’t really know each other. She just wished she’d had enough time to explain herself before he left.
And it also would have been nice if he’d had a little more faith that she wouldn’t want to use him, or anybody else, like that.
God, what had made her think for even a second that he’d want to spend a long weekend with her?
Mad listened to the silence in the penthouse, hoping to hear a door open and shut. She really wished Sean wasn’t outside on the street yelling at Spike right now. She’d tried to keep her friend from going after the poor guy, but you couldn’t stop a freight train just by standing in front of it.
Suddenly tired, Mad glanced over at the bed she’d used. Maybe she should go back to sleep—
She
