Thou Art With Me

by Debbie Viguié

  He tilted his head to the side. “How?”

  She leaned into him, tilted her head up and kissed him. His lips barely moved against hers. The fact that he wasn’t even kissing her back made her even angrier and more than a little frightened.

  “Do you remember what you told me?” she asked as she pulled away.

  He nodded gravely. “I told you that I belonged to you: heart, mind, and body. That everything I am is yours.”

  “If you really believe that, then I have the right to do this.” She raised her hands to his chest and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. She slid her hands down to the second and undid it as well. She was playing a dangerous game with him, but she needed to know that he was serious, that he still meant everything he’d said to her.

  He didn’t move, just stared at her with veiled eyes. When the last button was undone she pulled his shirt open and ran her hands up and down his chest, thrilling to the feel of his muscles under her fingertips. After a few seconds he said softly, “Cindy, don’t.”

  “Don’t?” she asked, glaring at him. She dropped her hands. “Okay, I get it now. Do you want out, you just don’t want to say so, and what, hurt my feelings? You know what’s hurting me? It’s this. You saying you care, but then acting like you don’t. I don’t know what the problem is. Maybe it’s that I’m not Jewish, and I get that, I really do, but say so. Maybe you don’t find me attractive now that our lives aren’t in danger. Maybe you kissed me and got it out of your system and now you just don’t know how to tell me it’s over.”

  She was shaking now as she glared at him. “I’ve been patient with you, Malachi,” she said, purposely using that name. “But I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time, and I’m tired of keeping that a secret. If you don’t love me or you’re ashamed of me or are too worried about what other people are going to say, then I can make your life easier.”

  “How do you think you could possibly make my life easier?” he asked, sounding strangled.

  She stared him in the eyes. “I release you from whatever obligation you feel toward me. I love you too much to live a lie with you, so I’ll walk away now and save you the trouble of leaving me later.”

  Cindy turned to go.

  “Cindy!”

  She paused. “What?” she asked without turning around.

  “I don’t want you to walk away.”

  “Then don’t let me.”

  “What can I say?”

  She shook her head. “At this point, nothing. Talk is cheap, especially for someone who lies as well as you do.” She realized it was harsh, but now was not the time to hold back what she was feeling.

  Jeremiah couldn’t take his eyes off Cindy. She looked stunning in the bikini and he was still reeling from the feel of her hands on his chest. It had taken every ounce of control he had not to do something rash in that moment. Now he was stunned by what she was saying. And through his confusion one thing became clear. She truly didn’t understand how he felt about her, and it was his fault.

  “Cindy, let me explain,” he said, his mouth feeling dry and his heart beginning to race in fear.

  She turned away. She was leaving. Not because she didn’t love him, but because he had held back too much. He couldn’t let her go, not like this. He stepped forward, grabbed her arm and spun her around. He wrapped both arms around her, bent her backwards so that he was supporting her weight, and kissed her hard.

  She came alive in his arms. She was kissing with the kind of abandon he dreamed about at night. He straightened her up, put her back on her own feet, but she clung to him, kissing him deeper, faster, her lips warm and moist against his.

  And every last shred of self-control he had vanished. He shrugged off his shirt. He sank down onto the beach blanket and pulled her down on top of him. He could feel the bare skin of her stomach against his, their legs tangled. He kissed her until they were both gasping for breath.

  Her eyes were closed and he let his hands roam down her back and onto her hips. “Look at me,” he said, his voice husky.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him.

  “I never lied about what I feel for you,” he said.

  “Given the last several months, how could I know that? You push me away and then you pull me close only to push me away again.”

  “I love you, Cindy. And you should know this. Not a day goes by that I don’t fantasize about well, you know what about. I’m only human, after all.”

  “I fantasize about that, too,” she said.

  Just hearing her admit that almost destroyed the last fragile thread of rational thought left to him. He closed his eyes, struggling to keep it together.

  “I understand that I’ve put artificial boundaries on us as a couple. I’m sorry for that. But I never want you to think it’s because I don’t love you or don’t want you. And I promise to do a better job of letting you know how I feel if you’ll do one thing for me.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Get up right now and walk away before something happens that we’ll both regret.”

  He opened his eyes and looked up at her. For one heart-stopping moment he thought she was going to refuse. Slowly, though, she nodded, and then she pushed herself up and a moment later was on her feet.

  He stared up at her.

  “It is a fantastic bathing suit,” he said.

  A smile lit up her face. “You really like it?”

  “Yes, do me a favor?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Don’t let me see it again for a while.”

  She picked up her towel and wrapped it around herself with deliberate, exaggerated motions. “I think I can do that.”

  “I’d appreciate it. Could you hand me my shirt?”

  She picked it up and shook the sand off of it. “No, I’m sorry. I’m keeping it.”

  “You’re what?” he asked.

  “You heard me. I’m the girlfriend. By California law that gives me the right to steal shirts, sweatshirts and possibly a really cool leather jacket.”

  “Oh you think so?”

  “I know so,” she said with a smirk.

  “That seems to be a bit one sided to me.”

  She shrugged. “Tough. Deal with it.”

  “And California law allows me to steal what of yours?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That seems very inequitable,” he said as he stood to his feet. “I think perhaps I should impose a tickle tax.”

  She shrieked and danced out of reach as he lunged toward her.

  “But you have been warned,” he said. “You don’t know when, you don’t know where, but you will be tickled mightily.”

  She giggled and he couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

  He scooped up his towel, threw it over his shoulders in an attempt to at least cover some of his scars, and then grabbed her hand. Together they walked back toward their bungalow. The small group sessions were still going so they didn’t see anyone on their walk. At last they made it back to their bungalow.

  Cindy had pulled his keycard out of the pocket of his shirt, which she was still fiercely holding on to. She inserted it into the slot and a second later was pushing open the door.

  The moment they stepped inside Jeremiah held up a hand and Cindy looked at him questioningly. He pressed a finger to his lips to signal for her to be quiet.

  Someone had broken into their room.

  20

  Mark woke up on the couch in the living room with no memory of how he’d gotten there. He was still in his clothes, including his jacket. Buster was laying on his feet which might explain why they seemed to have gone completely numb. His cell phone, a pad of paper with some numbers scribbled on it, and a pen were on the floor next to the couch.

  “Traci?” he called out, his throat dry and hoarse feeling.

  Traci walked into the room. “Look who’s up,” she said.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Only the most epic case of sleep
policing I’ve ever seen,” she said with a smile.

  “What?”

  “You were actually working in your sleep. I thought you were awake, but not so much as it turned out. When you fell over on the couch I decided not to wake you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stretched out his hand and managed to grab the pad of paper with two fingers and pull it closer. “This looks like a phone number, do you have any idea whose it is?”

  “You called Kyle for Hank’s number. That’s it, assuming you actually wrote it down correctly, but given that you weren’t actually conscious I’m not assuming much.”

  “Didn’t that freak you out?” he asked.

  “It would have, but I saw you do it in college that one time. Took notes the entire class and you were dead asleep.”

  Mark still had no memory of calling Kyle or writing down Hank’s number. He didn’t even remember getting home. “So not okay,” he muttered to himself.

  His stomach growled, proof that he had missed at least one meal. “Come on, Buster, I have to sit up,” he told the Beagle.

  The dog jumped down and Mark tried to sit up. Fire raced through his feet as the nerves came stingingly back to life.

  “Oh, by the way, you had this on your back when you came home. I’m guessing some of the guys at the station had something to do with it,” she said, handing him a small piece of paper with tape stuck on it. He read it.

  Your tax dollars at work.

  “I’m going to get those guys,” he said with a scowl as he crumpled it up.

  “I’d take it as a good sign. No one’s teased you since...everything.”

  She was right. He had effectively been persona non grata for a long time. The fact that they were teasing him was a sign that he was slowly being accepted back into the fold.

  He picked up his phone and dialed the number on the paper. After a couple of rings a man answered.

  “Hank?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hank, this is Detective Mark Walters. We met on a cattle drive-”

  “I remember you, Mark. Why is it you’re calling?”

  “I seem to remember something about you growing up here in southern California.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you by any chance have any connections to anyone on the reservation or the town of Pineneedle which is right outside it?”

  “You think all us Indians know each other?” Hank asked.

  Mark cursed himself for calling anyone when he still wasn’t awake yet. “No, of course not. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m desperately trying to find an in, someone who can help me solve a murder and keep Cindy and Jeremiah out of danger. I could have sworn at one point I heard you say something about Pineneedle.”

  “Detective, relax, I’m messing with you,” Hank said.

  “Good to know.”

  “I know you’ve got twins now, but you’ve got to get some more sleep, and don’t lose your sense of humor.”

  “How do you know...never mind. Do you know anyone?”

  “There’s an officer on the police force there, Zeb Smith. He’ll take on the tribal elders if you give him a good enough reason.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Anything else I should know?”

  “Yeah, Zeb cares about justice. He’ll back you, but if you hold out on him he’ll kick your butt halfway out of the state.”

  “Understood. Thanks.”

  He hung up and turned to look at Traci. “Did I do anything else when I got home last night that I should know about?”

  “You called Joseph and told him to put money in a bank account for Cindy.”

  “Why would I do that?” Mark asked.

  “You said something about a poker game.”

  “Crap,” Mark said. He had been really out of it. He needed to call Jeremiah and find out what was happening. “Did I say how much money?”

  Traci nodded. “Ten million.”

  Mark blinked. “Okay, now I’m awake.”

  Cindy stood quietly just inside the room while Jeremiah went through everything. She could tell that someone had been in their room from the signs he had given her. She had no idea how Jeremiah could tell, but somehow he knew.

  At last he nodded, indicating that it was safe.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “It’s my guess that they were looking for this,” he said, holding up the ATM card to the fake bank account that Mark had given her as part of her cover documents when they had first come to the resort.

  Cindy had left the card and the fake driver’s license in her purse here in the room.

  “What makes you think that’s what they were checking out?”

  “When you first got them from Mark you put the driver’s license in front. Now the ATM card is in the front.”

  Once again she was stunned by just how hyper-observant Jeremiah could be.

  “Well, they didn’t steal it. Do you think they just wanted the numbers off of it?”

  “I would be willing to bet they called in to verify a large purchase transaction, just to be sure that you actually had the kind of money they’re looking for. It’s a good thing Mark had Joseph add funds to it.”

  “I don’t like any of this,” Cindy said.

  “Neither do I, but if it means that you’re about to get an invite to the game then it’s a good thing.”

  Jeremiah’s phone went off and he answered. “Hi, Mark. Yeah, we baited the trap. We’ll see what we catch. I can already tell they’re interested. The game is tonight so if they’re going to make their move, it will have to be soon. Sure. We’ll keep you in the loop.”

  “Now what?” Cindy asked as Jeremiah hung up.

  “Now, we head to lunch.”

  “We still haven’t managed to get a look at Dr. Carpenter’s files,” she pointed out.

  “It was too risky last night with people tearing this place apart looking for Dorothea’s necklace. If I get a chance today I’ll try for it. Otherwise we’ll just have to hope for the best after the fact.”

  “Okay, how are we playing lunch?” she asked.

  “Cold.”

  Which meant no hand-holding she realized. It made sense, but it was frustrating. She was trying to enjoy physical contact with him while she could before they went home.

  Again she silently lectured herself that she needed to focus on the bigger picture: capturing killers and getting justice for Malcolm and his wife. It was hard to focus, though. Everything just felt like it was coming to a head with Jeremiah.

  “Okay, let’s do lunch,” she said, steeling herself for the experience.

  They were nearly to the main building when Summer walked up to them. “Hey,” she said, smiling at Cindy.

  “Hi,” Cindy said.

  “Can I talk to you for just a sec?”

  “Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Cindy said to Jeremiah, trying to put a bit of ice in her voice.

  “Whatever,” he grumbled. He headed off and Cindy rolled her eyes.

  “So, still not having any fun?” Summer said sympathetically.

  “Zero,” Cindy said with a sigh. “I think coming here was a mistake.”

  “Maybe not. Sometimes it’s good to find things out about people before the relationship goes too far. You’re at a perfect stage where it’s still easy to walk away.”

  “I don’t know, it’s starting to look that way. You know I really thought he was the one?” Cindy said, sounding as despondent as she could. And just like that she felt herself tearing up. She took a shaky breath. All the relationship talk was hitting a little too close to home.

  “Look, don’t cry. I figured out something fun for you to do this evening and a way Mr. Cranky Pants won’t even know what you’re up to.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you a gambler?”

  Cindy laughed. “I took a chance on him, didn’t I?”

  Summer laughed, too, a high fake laugh that grated on Cindy’s nerves.

  “There’s a very exclusive, hi
gh-level poker game for serious players over at the casino tonight. If you’re interested, I can pull a few strings and get you in.”

  “Oh, that could be fun. Texas Hold ‘Em, Draw or Stud?”

  “Dealer’s Choice.”

  “In a casino?”

  “Like I said, it’s a very exclusive game.”

  “Now you’re talking my language,” Cindy said.

  “I thought I might be. Listen, after dinner meet out front of the main building.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I have to run. I’ll see you later.”

  Summer took off and Cindy continued on to the dining room. She nodded slightly to Jeremiah who was texting on his phone. She was in. Now the insanity could really begin.

  After filling his captain in, Mark headed, with his blessings, for the town of Pineneedle, right on the edge of the reservation. Once there he drove straight to the small police station.

  Inside he was pointed toward a desk in the back where a tall man with fair features and short black hair was poring over a report. He looked up as Mark approached.

  “I’m Detective Mark Walters with the Pine Springs Police Department. Are you Zeb Smith?”

  “I am. What can I do for you, Detective?”

  Mark sat down across the desk from Zeb.

  “A friend told me that you weren’t afraid to go onto the reservation.”

  “I’m not afraid, but I don’t go without good reason and solid evidence. It’s not my business what goes on out there unless it has to be.”

  “I understand. Well, I have good reason and evidence, and there’ll be more by end of day.”

  “I’ll listen, but first tell me who this friend of yours is.”

  “His name is Hank Lightfoot, he grew up around here.”

  The officer broke out in a broad grin. “Why didn’t you say you were a friend of Hank’s in the beginning? It would have saved us a lot of fuss.” He reached across the desk, offering his hand.

  Mark shook it, relief flooding through him.

  “Okay, so what’s going on and what do you need from me?”

  “We have reason to believe at least 4 employees of the resort out there are conspiring with a couple people from the casino to get some of the resort’s rich clientele into a private high stakes poker game that’s fixed. They’re then splitting the profits amongst themselves.”