He seemed to sense her loss of words and stepped back to give her room. “Let’s get this over and move on to the wedding bliss, shall we?”
“Yes, please,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her and then locking it. “Where is Royce?”
“Blake took him to the shooting range for me, so he wouldn’t ask questions, and because he was climbing the walls with pre-wedding jitters.”
They started the walk to the stairs and she wondered what it would be like to have siblings that came through for you like Luke did. “I owe Blake a few thank yous it seems.”
He snorted. “Blake likes holding a gun almost as much as he does a different woman every night.”
“I’ve gathered from being around him that he’s a real player.”
“Fast women, fast cars, and danger,” he said. “He’s an adrenaline junkie since Sara died, trying to feel something aside from pain.”
She cast him a sideways look as he held open a door to the private parking area to their building, which was a rare find in Manhattan. ”You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“Blake is like jogging with a bomb in your hand,” he said. “He’s going to explode, it’s just a matter of when and how badly, which is exactly what he thinks about the Elizabeth Moore situation.” He clicked the lock on his Black Dodge Ram. “Let me help you up. The step is high.” He opened the door.
“Does that mean that you’ve uncovered something concerning?”
“Elizabeth Moore ending up dead after she threatened her husband is plenty in my book,” he said, “and we have a couple of our best men digging around. We’ll know more after the wedding.”
Julie sensed he wasn’t telling her everything. “If Blake is a bomb certain to explode on a scale of 1-10, where does he rank?”
“Seven on a good day. Nine on the other 364.”
“And this situation?”
His expression remained unchanged, emotionless, but the several seconds of hesitation was almost as telling as his answer. “Eleven.”
***
They pulled up to the cemetery only twenty minutes later, and that was because of bad traffic, the wind gusting, and the sky gray and threatening. Julie had never been to a cemetery before. She hadn’t even been to a funeral. She had no real family, so it was one dark spot in life she’d really never faced. Dread clawed in her stomach at the sight of the tombstones.
Luke pulled the truck to a stop behind a line of parked cars and Julie could see the tent across the terrain. Guilt twisted in her gut. Why hadn’t she called the police? Because you had nothing to offer them, she reminded herself.
“You aren’t responsible,” he said, accurately reading her thoughts. “There was no way you could have foreseen such a thing.”
“I appreciate you saying that more than you know,” she said, running her suddenly clammy hands down the fabric of her dress.
“We can–”
“I’m staying,” she finished before he could.
He sighed. “I’ll come around and help you out.”
She waited on him gladly, feeling out of sorts. Uneasy and wobbly. Luke being here helped, and while on a personal level that might scare her, it also made her stronger.
Luke opened the door, and she turned to let him help her down, and blurted, before she could lose her nerve. “Thank you. I’m glad you came.”
He stared at her for a long, moment, his face unreadable, before he gave her one of those sexy smiles that made even the dread in her stomach fade for a moment. With the ease of lifting a grocery bag, he lifted her and set her on her feet, running his hand down her hair. He did that a lot and she liked it way too much.
“Let’s go get this over with so we can happily marry off Royce and Lauren.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please. I want to go back to Lauren’s fairytale land. It’s nicer there.”
He slid his hand down her arm and surprised her by twining his fingers with hers. Silently, they fell into step and for the second time in her life, she had a sense of being part of something good, something right, something that was at odds with what she believed was in her future and even the grim, bitter cold of a day at the cemetery.
Droplets began to fall and Luke quickly pulled them into the back of the surprisingly large tent, a good fifty-plus people in seats. Sobs filled the air, and the rain picked up, the wind splattering it against the tent fabric. The judge sat in the front row, but she didn’t recognize those close to him. What got to Julie the most was the absence of a casket. There was a much smaller finely etched wooden box that she assumed held what was left of the beautiful, too young to die, Elizabeth Moore.
It wasn’t long before a man in a robe stepped forward to a podium and began to speak. Wind seemed to howl at the same moment, as if Elizabeth herself was protesting her demise. The darkness of the event, the sadness surrounding her, tightened Julie’s throat, and she felt the prickle of tears.
Luke pulled her under his arm, and she happily took the shelter he offered. The next fifteen minutes was a blur that felt endless.
When the final prayer ended, the crowd scattered. People went to the flowers in a center display for Elizabeth, while Julie clung to Luke’s arm, just staring at them.
“You okay?” he whispered in her ear.
She swallowed and nodded, turning to him, tears burning in the back of her eyes. “I’m fine. I’ve never gone to a funeral before.”