Look Before You Jump

by D. A. Bale

  “Pretty desperate to kill her. The only thing I wonder is why.”

  “You’re so smart, you tell me.”

  “The cartel,” I huffed, digging in my bare feet to the soft rooftop. “Amy’s father is part of the Juarez drug cartel.”

  I think that surprised him, as Bud stopped for a sec. “So?”

  “And you’re part of their drug smuggling operation. I saw you and Grady unloading the cattle the other night.”

  That little revelation sent him into overdrive. “You don’t know nothin’.”

  “Like I didn’t know Amy’s death wasn’t a suicide?”

  Bud grunted. “If you’d have just shut up, the cops would’ve never reopened the case. It’s your fault I had to plant the sleeping pill bottle at that sniveling pastor’s house.”

  Now my dander was up. “That sniveling pastor is my friend.” I raised my bare foot and brought the full weight of my heel down on his toes.

  That only served to make him mad. I kinda forgot in the fear-induced stupor I’d left my shoes near the air conditioners. Instead of pulling the trigger, Bud cold cocked me with the gun butt. The stars in the sky started swirling as if God had sped up the earth’s rotation. My body felt weightless as if flung toward outer space at the same time a second gun report echoed in the night and the ground rose up to meet me. But instead of hard, unforgiving cement, my body flopped against rubber-covered asphalt. Then my head found the cement edge.

  Through the fog, I looked up into a familiar face. Warm chocolate eyes soothed my insides as I realized my mistake. One side of his mustache tipped up like a salute of greeting as he lifted my head.

  “How ya doing, Vic?”

  “Been better, Grady.”

  The stars spun tighter around his face in a candy-coated kaleidoscope of color. Then I blacked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Once again, my apartment building swarmed with red and blue lights. Only this time they weren’t there for a dead body – well, ‘cept Bud’s. Somewhere among my in-and-out consciousness, I heard Grady’s bullet had been an amazing shot right between the eyes, stopping Bud’s momentum just as he was about to hurl me off the roof.

  Sirens wailed into the night as the first ambulance on scene herded Jimmy toward the hospital. Grady assured me he would be alright. The bullet near his shoulder was a clean through-and-through, nothing surgery and plenty of rest couldn’t repair. The fall down the stairwell earned him a date with a CAT scanner though. With a wave of the hand, he shooed away the paramedics and sat beside my gurney in the second ambulance.

  “Undercover ATF agent?” I said over the clanging in my head.

  “Shh,” Grady hushed. “Not so loud.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Uh, undercover for a reason.”

  Oh. Right. The scrambled pieces of my brain hadn’t yet congealed together enough to wade through something as mundane as a logical conversation.

  “Does Zeke know?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Grady returned. “Who do you think recommended ya for the job?”

  I groaned and laid back against the hard pillow. “So who recommended Bud for the job, huh?”

  A frown drew Grady’s mustache down. “That really did start out as an attempt to help an old Army buddy. Wasn’t until a few months after I’d hired Bud that I suspected more was up with his other job. That’s when I pulled in Ranger Taylor.”

  “So what about your Army buddy now?”

  “Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard call. Really wish I hadn’t had to put Bud’s name on that bullet.”

  I put a hand over Grady’s. “I’m sorry to put you through this trouble.”

  He patted mine. “Though I’d do it again to save ya, Vic.”

  Before I could say anything else, Zeke’s wide-eyed gaze filled my tear-blurred vision. “Vicki?”

  “Zeke,” I cried, sending my clattering brain running for cover.

  His gaze traveled over every bruise, blister, scratch and scrape before lifting my chin to check out the salved and gauze covered wound on my neck. Brown eyes asked the question his mouth wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say.

  “Just a small burn,” I reassured. “From Bud’s gun muzzle. I’ll be fine.”

  Zeke grunted then offered a single curt nod Grady’s direction. “Grady.”

  “Zeke,” Grady responded.

  “Many thanks for saving our girl,” Zeke said.

  “Someone had to save her ass again.” Grady chuckled. “Gotta figure out some way to steal her away from ya.”

  “Hey,” I butt in. “Nobody’s stealing no one away from nobody.” Did that make any sense? “I’m an unattached woman. End of story.”

  “Speaking of stories,” Grady said, “I caught that last bit Bud said about planting the sleeping pills at the Vernet house.”

  “Yeah? Well you can hear the whole story if you want.” I lifted my blouse and jimmied the mic loose from my bra and handed it to Grady. “That is, if the recorder in my car was still on.”

  Two sets of eyes darted toward then away from my exposed assets so fast, I would’ve laughed if my head wasn’t already begging for mercy.

  Zeke offered a hike of his brow instead of a furrow this time. “Recorder?”

  I nodded then regretted it. “See, the other day I stopped by this electronics store and picked up a few things. I used the tracking device the other night to find you, Zeke.”

  The hike immediately went south. “I discovered it after I got home.”

  “Well then I was gonna question Grady here tonight,” I said, thumbing my boss. “Until I got there and realized Bud was also involved and it turns out my boss is actually a…” I lowered my voice to a whisper this time. “…an ATF agent.”

  Grady’s mustache lifted on both sides this time. “I’ll let ya interrogate me anytime, Vic.”

  I smiled, though with the pain in my head, side, legs, knees, neck – oh hell, pretty much my entire body – my smile probably came out more like a grimace. “Does this mean Bobby’s officially off the hook?”

  “I think that’s a safe bet,” Grady responded.

  I sighed. “Okay then. How about you guys go away now and let me get some well-deserved sleep?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the female paramedic said as she climbed into the ambulance. “With the head trauma, we need to get you fully checked out at the hospital to ensure there’s not a concussion. That means you’ve gotta stay awake.”

  Damn. Why couldn’t I have stayed unconscious a little longer? Say ‘til the cows came home – the longhorn variety.

  ***

  Hours later, after plenty of poking, prodding, and a trip through the tube, peaceful sleep came at last. When Mom and Dad arrived at the emergency room, she insisted I be kept overnight for observation, even though scans showed no sign of a concussion. Talk about overkill – but I was glad I was still among the land of the living, and this cub was happy to acquiesce to the momma bear’s demands. At least this time.

  By that point, overnight was rather a misnomer too since the sky had lightened by the time I was ushered into a private room. When I opened my eyes some hours later, the early evening sun had shifted right into my eyes and sent my headache into overdrive again.

  Figures.

  The scent of food woke my brain – and my stomach – up further. Mom sat at a nearby table with Janine, daintily eating dinner from styrofoam containers. If I’d have had a camera, the scene would’ve been worthy of a Kodak moment – or fodder to tease my mom with when I felt better. Unless I still suffered from rattled brain syndrome, I couldn’t remember ever seeing my mother eat from anything but the finest china. And a plastic fork?

  My chuckles must’ve drawn their attention. The plastic forks took a dive into the styrofoam and they hovered by the bed in two seconds flat.

  “How’re you feeling?” Mom and Janine asked at the same time.


  “Like I almost got tossed off a building,” I mumbled.

  Janine’s blue eyes widened while Mom’s green narrowed. “Almost being the key word in this situation,” Mom said. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”

  “What happened?” Janine asked.

  “Long story,” I offered. “Let’s just say I no longer have to worry about a certain co-worker pawing at me again.”

  Mom released a sharp humph before addressing me. “Your boss…I believe his name was Grady?”

  I nodded then closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning like I was riding the tilt-a-whirl at the fair.

  Mom continued, “He asked me to inform you that you have the remainder of the week off – with combat pay, whatever that means.”

  “Good ol’ Grady.”

  Now that I knew he had not just one but two income streams, I wasn’t ashamed to accept the time off with pay, though I knew it meant more work for my remaining cohorts at the bar. Considering my injuries came at someone else’s expense, I hoped they wouldn’t hold it against me. After I finished convalescing though, I’d have to check in with Grady to see what I could and couldn’t say about the night’s activities. He had a secret identity to protect, you know.

  Janine piped up. “Bobby should be by anytime to check in on you again.”

  That opened my eyes again right quick. “Was he here earlier?”

  My best friend nodded. “He wanted to let you know Detective Duncan contacted him this morning to inform him that he could expect charges to be dropped once the DA’s office filed the formal paperwork.”

  “Yes!” I shot my bandaged arm up into the air and almost caught Janine’s chin with my right hook. My headache lessened about the time I almost gave my best friend one.

  Mom interrupted our celebration. “I still don’t understand why Bobby asked you to get involved in the first place.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” I said. “Just a friend helping a friend. You know, because of my connection with Zeke?”

  I hoped the simple explanation would placate her so momma bear would let her cub off the hook without any further questions. And really, it was only a friend helping a friend. Mostly. Sort of. Truth be told, I’d found the little adventure rather exciting – ‘cept the part about almost taking a swan dive from my rooftop.

  “Speaking of Zeke,” Mom continued, “he said to let him know as soon as the hospital released you.”

  “He said you could have the bed tonight too,” Janine said.

  I doubt if she realized the implications of the sentence until it was out of her mouth. The blush brightened Janine’s face so fast, a bystander flying past the window might’ve mistaken it for a hot flash.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I returned with a smile.

  Mom just shook her head and headed for the hall. “I’m going to step out and call your father to let him know you’re awake.”

  “Where is the old so-and-so?” I asked after the door clicked shut. “I could’ve sworn he was here last night, acting like a concerned parent. So unlike him.”

  “He stayed until I left to get dinner from the cafeteria,” Janine said.

  “That long? Probably waiting to see if he could take me out of the will permanently this time.”

  “Vicki,” Janine admonished. “Maybe this was a wake-up call for him. He really did seem quite concerned about you.”

  “Okay, sorry,” I muttered.

  The sperm donor concerned about me? There’s a new one. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the emotion that thought churned up in my gut, so I decided to file it away under rainy day contemplations for the New Year. Like sometime around 2050. Maybe by then I’d be mature enough to handle it.

  Or not.

  Further consideration at present was cut short by Bobby’s entrance with an enormous basket plant. “Vic?” His eyes widened. “Dear God.”

  In my experience, such a reaction isn’t a good sign. “Do I look worse than earlier?” I asked, searching for a mirror or any reflective surface.

  “Your Mom wouldn’t let anyone else in earlier to avoid disturbing your rest,” Bobby admitted. “Sorry, you look…fine.”

  “Okay Pinocchio. Don’t start lying to me now.” My gaze shifted between Janine biting her lip and Bobby’s concerned stare. “How bad do I look?”

  He hesitated. “Remember that little altercation you had with Lorraine Padget the summer before you started high school?”

  “Ye-ea-ah-h?” I said drawing it out to stall the inevitable.

  Bobby smiled and shrugged. “At least this time you only have one black eye.”

  I groaned – then proceeded to share with Bobby the circumstances about the death of Amy’s killer. The only question I still couldn’t answer was the one we all wanted to know. Why?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Okay, so I was a little beat-up, bruised, and burned, but I wasn’t about to miss the governor’s dinner. I just did what any resourceful Texas woman would do – improvised.

  “Your mom bought that for you, didn’t she?” Zeke asked when I stepped from his bathroom in the black dress.

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  He chuckled and stuck out his elbow for me to slip my arm through. “In all my years of knowing you, Vic, I’ve never seen you with that much skin um...covered.”

  I smacked his arm and looked again at the dress in the elevator door’s reflection before we walked outside to his truck. The clingy modal and spandex fabric fell well below the knee to hide most of the assorted scuffs and scrapes on my legs. The long lace sleeves helped break up the appearance of asphalt and rubber-induced burn marks along my elbows and arms, though the sleeves held in the heat and served to exacerbate the itching. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do about the gun muzzle burn on my neck and the bruises on my face, but the thick cover-up Mom had provided did a fairly decent job of toning it down somewhat. Wearing my hair cascading down helped a bit too – which probably also made the Ranger sit up and take notice.

  If Zeke was embarrassed to be seen with me in public, he did a pretty good job of masking it when we walked into the sparsely-populated ballroom and he introduced me to his fellow Rangers. Since he was technically on duty tonight, we’d had to arrive a bit ahead of the crowd. But while he left to confer with the others in preparation for the governor’s arrival, I found it quite enjoyable to sit by and watch the parade of tuxes and assorted frippery as guests entered.

  The parents eventually came strolling in with Mr. and Mrs. De’Laruse beside them, my mother targeting in on me like a laser beam where I sat near the bar. After the required greetings all around, Mom made a beeline in my direction as I wobbled to stand.

  “Do you think it’s wise to be drinking alcohol after a head injury? You’re still taking the pain killers the doctor prescribed, aren’t you?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Ginger ale won’t kill me, Mom.”

  “Oh. Well maybe that blow to the head knocked a little sense into you after all,” she quipped with a gentle hug. Mom then held me at arm’s length. “What did I tell you about that dress? And the make-up covers those bruises quite well. If not for the swelling, you’d look stunning, dear.”

  I held my ginger ale to hers with a soft plink. “As usual you did good, Mom, though Zeke thinks the dress covers too much skin.”

  That got me a humph. “Where is that young man anyway? He should’ve never left you alone here. That’s no way to treat a proper date.”

  “It’s not a date, Mom,” I admonished. “Besides, Zeke’s working security detail tonight. I doubt if I’ll see him much.”

  “Well I still don’t think…”

  Mom’s comment was interrupted by the start-up of the band and the entrance of the governor and his entourage. With a quick peck, she excused herself and went in search of my dad in the press of the crowd. Her concern over my being left alone was touching. I didn’t think I could handle anymore bodily inj
ury at that stage, so I avoided the jostling and jockeying for position and started on my second ginger ale. What I wouldn’t give for a big, tall, frothy mug of beer.

  About a half hour into the cocktail hour, I was whirled around and swept onto the dance floor. When my head stopped spinning, I looked up into Zeke’s brown eyes.

  “You might want to take it easy on the twirling,” I admonished, “or you might be wearing dinner before I eat it.”

  “Sorry. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to share a dance with you,” Zeke admitted. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “I thought tonight was all business.”

  “I’ve learned to multi-task.”

  “And to dance,” I observed.

  “Well I had to have something to do with all that spare time after you left.”

  “You calling me a time sucker?”

  “Hmm…,” Zeke growled.

  Uh-oh. I knew that growl – and it wasn’t from anger. It didn’t take too much stretch to imagine how he took my proposed moniker.

  “So,” I said in attempt to change the subject. “Why did you ask me to your little Ranger soiree? You can’t be that hard up for a date.”

  The poor choice of words hit me again with a heated and devilish grin this time. Maybe I had suffered a concussion or something the other night. Yeah, I hear you. Or something is right. Blame it on the pain pills.

  Zeke pressed the earwig against his ear and spoke into his sleeve, then glanced over his shoulder and pulled me off the dance floor.

  “I asked you,” Zeke said as he pressed me to his side and wove through the adulating throng, “because there’s someone here I think you’d like to meet.”

  “I’ll give you a kiss here and now if you say Sam Adams.”

  “A beer is the last thing you need right now, but I think you’ll appreciate the substitution.”

  Now understand please – when you’ve been around the political wheel so many times since you got out of training pants, a meeting with the governor is not that big of a deal. Besides, I was tired of feeling dizzy the last couple of days anyway. So when the governor had entered the room, I’d paid less attention to him than I had studying the beer line-up.

  So when the Hispanic gentleman standing near Texas’ leader came into focus, my heart skipped a beat. The rather petite and slender frame appeared even smaller next to the governor’s towering height. The full lips smiled, but the dark eyes turned down at the corners in – was that sadness? Something seemed vaguely familiar.