by W E DeVore
He smirked at her. “What are you gonna do, angel? Shoot me?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first man I’ve shot, Nick. Watch yourself.”
She walked back onto the stage, leaving Derek and Nick to work things out on their own. Sanger approached her. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing, cowboy. Just dumb musicians doing dumb musician stuff,” she said. “We doing this, or what?”
Jeffries stepped forward, looking hopelessly out of her depth. Glancing from Sanger to Q, she asked, “How is this going to work?”
Sanger replied, “Tonight, you and Derek go to dinner with the entire band, including Clementine. Go someplace public. Very public. If the stalker is watching, they’ll see you. We see what happens. You make a show of how much more than a security guard you are to Derek, but you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Don’t let him make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Q backhanded him in the ribs. “Sanger, lay off. He’s not going to do anything. She’s armed for Christ’s sake.”
“Honestly, I still don’t get the point of this little plan of yours,” Jeffries said.
Rex spoke up, “This person wants to play matchmaker. We see how bad they want this little romance between Q and Derek Sharp to happen. In the meantime, you get to play cozy with a rock star.”
Jeffries folded her arms and glared at Rex before ignoring him completely and replying to Sanger instead, “I repeat, I don’t think it’s a good plan. I’ve thought it through, and I don’t see how this leads to an arrest. Don’t you want to catch this person? Just put eyes on your little partner in crime.”
Sanger glanced at Q and shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. I thought you were ok with this. What’s going on?”
When Jeffries’s eyes instantly locked onto Derek, Q recognized how deeply the federal agent’s affinity towards all things Dark Harm most likely ran, especially when those things ran near Derek Sharp.
She tilted her head towards backstage and said, “Agent Jeffries, take a walk with me, will you?”
They went down to the greenroom and found a quiet corner. Q hopped up onto a road case and sat crossed-legged, Jeffries stood nearby.
“Well?” Jeffries asked, regaining some of her authority.
“What did they tell you? About this situation?”
“You’ve been threatened. This stalker thinks you should be married to Derek Sharp or are married to him and are being unfaithful. Took some pictures of you with your actual husband…”
“Sanger tell you about the last letter Derek got?”
Jeffries shrugged. “Just bits and pieces.”
Q took a deep breath and said, “Whoever this person is, they know I was raped when I was twenty-two. It’s not really a big secret anymore. It was all over the news when my husband was accused of murder a few years ago.”
“Trouble sure does like to follow you around,” Jeffries mumbled.
Q grinned. “That’s what Aaron likes to say.”
“How do you know? I mean, Detective Sanger just mentioned some sort of rape fetish in the last letter…”
“Not some sort of, a verbatim description of my attack. Somehow, they found out about the jumper cable, unless it was a lucky guess.”
“Jumper cable?”
Q gestured to her throat. “That’s how he subdued me. Our little friend thinks Derek should make me fall in line the same way. Anyway, the point is, if this person was paying that close attention to me back then, when some asshole reporter first opened my sealed case, they’ve been watching me pretty much since the minute Derek hired me. Which means they’ve been watching him, too. We need to give them a reason to stop. I’ve already had enough trouble to last a lifetime and I’m not looking for anymore. Nothing personal, but if they’re going to go after someone, I’d rather it be an armed federal agent.”
“And if they just give up and go away?”
“Then it’s just some poor loser in his mother’s basement, watching too much of that fucked up Japanese anime porn, and we were worried for nothing.”
Jeffries bit the cuticle on her right numb and looked at her shoes for a moment. “I don’t know if I can do this. He’s so famous and so talented…” She scratched between her eyebrows. “No one will ever believe he’d want me.”
“Why?” Q asked. “He’s just a person. Sanger thinks you’re gorgeous. Why wouldn’t Derek?”
As soon as the words like her mouth, she wished she could suck them back into her lungs as Jeffries posture changed in an instant. “Aaron told you that?”
Q backpedaled as quickly as she could. “No, not in so many words. He wouldn’t have suggested you if he didn’t think it would work. You know how men are.”
Thankfully Derek came strolling into the greenroom with Sanger and Rex in tow before Q managed to insert her foot any further into her mouth. He gleefully clapped his hands together and said, “Ok! Let’s get a look at my new conquest.”
Q bit the inside of her cheek and internally begged Derek to keep his persona in check for the next ten minutes. If his persona could hear her, it didn’t listen. He seemed to levitate two centimeters off the floor, his steps flowing in an unending chain, keeping the rest of his body completely still. His light blue eyes were focused entirely on Jeffries whose pale complexion flushed an attractive shade of rose. Q was fairly certain that if the air conditioning hadn’t kicked on at exactly that moment, she would have been able to hear Jeffries’s panties fall to the floor of their own accord.
How in the hell does he do this?
Derek pressed his hand into the small of Jeffries back. “Agent Jeffries, I presume. You’re lovelier than I imagined you would be. And I have quite an imagination.”
“Knock it off, Cincinnati,” Q said.
He leaned closer to Jeffries and spoke over her shoulder. “You jealous, angel?”
Q narrowed her eyes and hopped off her road case. “I’m going back to work.”
She strode towards the stairs and heard Rex murmur to Sanger, “I want to be him when I grow up. Look at her. She’d suck his dick right now if he asked her.”
Sanger rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shuffled his feet as he watched Jeffries continue to blush at Derek’s kind attention.
A loud, piercing whistle made everyone in the room flinch. Fiona stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, a drumstick in each hand. “Derek! Get laid on your own time. Can we wrap this up before I go through menopause? I’m fucking bored.”
Derek salaciously kissed the inside of Jeffries’s wrist before entwining his fingers through hers and striding confidently towards the door.
“Fi, meet Elaine. She’s my new girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you, Elaine,” Fiona called. “We doing this or what? We’re going to be here until two a.m. at this rate.”
Sanger put his hand on Q’s hip as she watched the antics. “You think this is going to work?”
Q turned and grinned at him. “Right now, I don’t care, cowboy. This is too much fun to watch.”
He reached out to brush an errant curl from her face and stopped himself, slicking his hand back through his own hair instead. “Rex and I are going to go talk to Derek’s new security detail. You have fun. I’ll see you at dinner.”
A drop of worry still tickled at the back of Q’s mind and she asked, “Are you ok? You seem different today.”
“I told you I’m fine. Go.” Sanger pushed her towards the door by way of response and she stopped walking.
“Look, Aaron. I know seeing those pictures had to be weird for you…”
The stage above them thundered to life as a single syllable was uttered into every open microphone and out into the house speakers. “Q!”
Sanger pointed towards the stairs. “I think that’s you.”
Q laughed, and left with a quick wave, still wondering what her best friend might be keeping from her.
◆◆◆
It was nearly
nine when Dark Harm wrapped rehearsals for the night. Paul had managed to reserve the back room at the most popular late-night burger joint in the Quarter and everyone packed into the large, black passenger van that was waiting for them outside the roll-up door at the back of the stage. Q squeezed in beside Sanger and Dave, who were having an animated discussion about the proper way to clean a handgun.
She pulled out her phone and texted Ben, telling him where she’d be, should he want to join her, but she knew the odds of another Friday night date with her husband were stacked against her. When her phone dinged, confirming what she already knew - the Cove was packed, he’d be home late, and to please have Sanger or the security firm check the house before they left her alone – she settled back into her seat and watched the neon rainbow of French Quarter lights streak past her window.
From the outside, Smuggler’s Harbor didn’t look like much. From the inside, it didn’t look like much either, mainly because the lighting was so low, you couldn’t read the menus without pulling out a flashlight or holding them next to the miniature hurricane lamp on your table. The owners had taken the nautical theme to their restaurant to the extreme, from the netting hanging from the ceiling to the uneven, hand-carved stone steps that led from the bar to the restaurant. Accustomed to large crowds invading the restaurant at odd hours, most of the patrons didn’t even glance up from their fishbowls full of alcohol and tropical juice blends when a dozen people burst through the front door; even if half of those people were members of one of the most famous rock bands in the world.
They wound their way through the not-really-secret passageway to the back room and took over the large table nestled in the corner of two long, street-facing windows. Derek and Jeffries sat where they could be viewed from any sidewalk in the intersection as well as the neutral ground on Esplanade if they adjusted the lighting only a little. Jeffries reached down the table and retrieved one of the few small hurricane lamps, placing it so that she and Derek were the most illuminated people in the room.
Here, crazy kitty, come and get your treat.
Sanger caught Q watching Derek and Jeffries play act a love affair that Q was quite sure would end up a real act in Derek’s bed tonight if Jeffries blinked ‘yes’ in Morse code on accident. He elbowed her in the ribs. “Don’t look jealous, or this whole thing is for nothing.”
“Fuck you. She’s your girlfriend.”
They watched as Derek kissed Jeffries’s shoulder, then slid his tongue along her neck to whisper something in her ear. Q’s mouth went dry and she looked away, sipping on her ice water.
Definitely telling Ben about that move.
Sanger nudged her again with his elbow. “Stop watching them. You think this is going to work?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “They’re so concerned with my purity. Let’s see how they feel about Derek running around on me. You find anything else out about our real estate friends?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Yep. Rex pulled some strings with a friend of his in the Bureau. Seems like they’ve gone to a few cities, either right on the cusp of gentrification or just on the other side. Built developments, just like the one they want to build here.”
“And?” Q prompted when he didn’t continue.
“There’s somebody watching,” he said. “Neutral ground, three o’clock.”
She followed his gaze and saw a woman with short, dark hair standing near a live oak tree, facing them. Sanger moved to leave when the woman pulled out her phone and began typing furiously. A few minutes later, she waved at someone down the street and briskly walked away out of view.
“Just somebody waiting for a friend,” Q said. Sanger didn’t look convinced, but she kicked his foot under the table. “Charter Real Estate. What’s the deal?”
Kyle glimpsed up from his menu. “What do you want to know about Charter Real Estate?”
“Why?” Sanger asked. “You know them?”
“Sure, I know them. My husband works for them in Seattle.”
“Doing what?” Q asked.
“Staging,” he replied. “They build really nice condos. He stages the units when they’re ready to show. Makes them look nice. It’s how he gets new clients. Malcom’s an interior decorator. That’s how we met.” Kyle’s face softened at the memory and he pulled out his phone. He sent a text and then looked back at Q. “How do you know them? Charter Real Estate?”
“They want to buy my husband’s club. Tear it down. Build condos.”
Kyle sneered. “Ugh. Tell him not to do it. He doesn’t want to do business with those people. They ruin cities for a living.”
“I would have thought you’d want to help your brother-in-law tear the Cove down with a sledge hammer.” Q folded her arms and leaned back in her chair to regard him.
“I’m sorry about the other day. I should have apologized earlier. The thing with Julie and Derek… I told him to leave her alone that night. She and Chris had this huge fight and she was looking to do something stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. He took it as a challenge. You know how he is.”
Q laughed. “You think?”
Kyle laughed with her. “Yeah, well, anyway… Julie’s been talking about leaving Chris for years. She should just do it, but she’s afraid of losing the house, the income. She doesn’t work. They were supposed to have kids, but she can’t. I don’t know what this thing is with Derek and her, but it’s making her happy. I should just stay out of it. Chris isn’t good for her. I don’t know why I let myself get so involved. I guess it was a distraction for me, maybe.”
“From what?” she asked.
He pulled out his phone and slid it over to her; she saw two young faces smiling back at her. “Those are my kids. Demetric and Sasha. Demetric’s three, Sasha’s six. We’ve been fostering them since Demetric was eight days old. We were just about to finalize the adoption and their mother got clean. She had a Vicodin problem. Tricky was addicted when he was born. Malcom had to quit working for almost a year to stay home with him. She wants them back.”
Kyle stared down at the table. “She wants to take my kids and there’s nothing I can do about it. Tricky doesn’t even know her and Sasha doesn’t remember her.”
Q squeezed his hand and he took it. He looked at her. “You have kids?”
“No,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, the law’s in her favor, but Malcom likes to say that money’s on our side. That’s why I had to go ahead with the tour. I was going to quit. I hate being away from them, but I’m not giving them up without a fight. And I’m sorry for being an asshole all these weeks. You’re just doing a gig. Same with the record. I know it wasn’t personal. Don’t know why I took it so personally.” He held up his phone. “Malcom’s been pestering me to apologize.”
“It’s ok, everyone gets a little wound tight every once in a while.”
“I see you’ve met my brother-in-law,” he said, winking at her and grinning.
Q laughed.
“Malcom says that one day, someone will press the right button and he’ll shoot up like a fucking rocket to the moon. That’s what happens when you do business with Charter.”
Sanger leaned in and said, “Excuse me?”
“Chris is in real estate. It’s part of the reason he agreed to move here. It’s one of the few places prices are booming. He’s helping Charter secure the location for this new project. Malcom got him the gig.”
“I’m guessing those blocks weren’t picked by accident?” Q asked.
Kyle smirked and said, “People wound that tight can’t think outside of the box, Q. Charter didn’t even want that corner until he started his little one-man war against your husband. They were looking at some old warehouse or something near my place in the Marigny. He talked them into going Uptown instead; now his ass is on the line to make it happen.”
“You ever hear of something bad happening to someone who didn’t want to sell to Charter?” she asked.
“
No. Nothing like that. I could ask Malcom…”
“It’s happened,” Sanger said. Kyle and Q turned to look at him in horror. “This couple in Portland didn’t want to sell this big old Victorian to them. Holding out for more money. They got killed on their way home from dinner one night. Robbery gone bad. Austin, too. Restaurant fire. Killed the owner.”
“Those could be coincidences. Mike could be a coincidence,” Q said. She yawned and stretched before resting her head on Sanger’s shoulder, slouching down in exhaustion. “I can’t, cowboy. I’m too tired. Let’s leave it for the night.”
