She fished the scorecard from her back pants pocket. Mason went to reach for it, but she rotated on her heels using her arm as a barrier between him and the paper. He extended his arm to grab it but when she continued to tease him by turning her body, he engulfed her in his arms, her back against his chest. He wrestled to get it from her.
“I give!” She burst out laughing.
He snatched the scorecard, but instead of moving his arms from around her, he kept them there. She faced him. They were mere inches apart. The passion in their eyes shifted their laughter into a serious expression. The pull to kiss her was nearly too powerful to withstand and resist. He moved toward her—he ended up lips to cheek. He released her.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
His eyes went from her to the ball that sat in the middle of the green turf, a mere foot from where it was originally launched.
Jessica remained quiet for a while before mustering the ability to talk.
“It’s my fault too—” She lined up to take her next shot. “I guess I better clean up this hole seeing as the pro has already sunk his ball.”
All he could think about was how close he had been to feeling his lips pressed against hers. If he made it through this day without kissing those lips, he would suffer the painful consequences—and a cold shower. How could she expect to be as beautiful as she was and remain innocent?
He watched her take her shot and meet with success.
But his focus wasn’t on her swing. It was on her. On the woman she was. She was a loyal, loving, and humorous person he could spend a lifetime getting to know. She had such a vulnerability which was only complimented by strength of character. With all that she had been through, no one could have done it more gracefully than she had.
“Yes!” Her one arm flung into the air.
“Don’t get too excited, you haven’t sunk it yet.” He smiled.
She was so beautiful. Her green eyes, her slender body, and the way her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and how she would shyly tuck it behind an ear when she was nervous. The way her cheeks would flush when he got close to her.
After a few more strokes the other side of the windmill, she sank her ball. It was the eighteenth hole, but only a small mini golf course on the beach so they had to return the balls. She bent over to retrieve it.
“So what was that then? Ten strokes for this hole?” He had the scorecard and he went to fill it in with the short pencil.
“More like fifteen. Either way I’m definitely over the limit.”
She laughed, but it was cut short when she pointed to his watch. “What time is it?”
He turned his wrist. “Two-fifteen.”
“My doctor’s appointment. We’ve got to go. How fast do you think you can get me to Fifth and Talbot?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
He took the ball from her hand. They dropped the putters and balls back at the hut and hurried to get to his car.
JESSICA HAD COMPLETELY LOST TRACK of time and how her stomach was feeling. It wasn’t bothering her at this moment, but it wasn’t unlike the nausea to come and go. She really hoped she wasn’t pregnant. She loved Bryan, and in some ways it would be a gift to be left with a piece of him—but a baby? A little person who would always wonder what happened to daddy. The thought of that ripped at her heart. And once the child was old enough to know the truth, it could turn bitter against the world, against society. It could become an outcast. She did not realize how her breathing had grown louder until Mason glanced over at her in the passenger seat.
“So what’s wrong with you anyway?”
“I’m hoping to find that out.” She narrowed her eyes to slits. She couldn’t tell him her suspicions. It would frighten him off and there was no point in doing that at this junction. “I just haven’t been feeling well, off and on.”
He nodded his head and rested his one arm on the console between them. “Not good. But you’re okay right now, right? I mean we didn’t have to go out today.”
“No, I’m fine.” She smiled facing out the passenger window. “I’ve been feeling fine since you came to the house actually.” More words were spilling out before she was conscious them.
“Now look at the positive effects I have on you.” They faced each other. He laughed. “I cure illness.”
She laughed. “Yeah, don’t get too carried away.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. “How long do you figure you’ll be?”
“Hopefully, not too long. You coming in?”
“No, I’ll just wait out here. I have a book to read.” He reached over in front of her and pulled a novel out of the glove box.
“How impressive, he can read.”
She flashed him devious eyes before getting out of the car and slamming the door. With her back to him, she smiled. She hadn’t been this happy, this content, for weeks or maybe even longer. She placed a hand on her stomach again. The thought of a baby growing inside pulled her back to reason.
Wait until you know what’s going on before you let yourself fall in love again.
-
Chapter 27
“DIMITRE, GET YOUR ASS BACK to your cell.” The guard tapped his stick into the palm of his other hand.
Do you think you can threaten and intimidate a mastermind in the underground world? Dimitre thought. Tough chance. I could squash you like the sniveling little shit you are. All I’d have to do is take the baton, push it against your throat, slam you against the wall, and watch you twitch and flail until you take your last breath.
Dimitre ignored the guard’s commands and continued reading the article in front of him.
Today’s lunch break proved satisfying. Black and white confirmed Bryan Lexan was dead. The news was old to those on the outside, but in this prison, they were lucky to see a paper from the current month. The lawyer paid for his sin…his transgression of taking on a case bigger than he could handle and of messing with the wrong man.
Dimitre reflected on the words.
Bryan Lexan, Defense Attorney, son of the late Honorable Judge William Lexan, has been confirmed dead. Originally reported missing, his body was found in his scorched car. Investigators have confirmed a bomb was the cause of the explosion. His death is being investigated.
No shit, Dimitre thought.
Police will not comment on any possible suspects at this time. Although, officially off the record, one has to wonder if there is a connection between his death and the threat against his life made by Dimitre Petrov.
The article went on to describe the outburst in the courtroom and made it hard to fight the smug smile that wanted to give birth.
The son of a bitch had paid for what he did to him—finally. All the fun of torturing his mind and upsetting his girlfriend had been worth it. He laughed under his breath. Too bad the game had come to an end.
“Petrov!”
The guard came behind him and shoved his baton into Dimitre’s back.
Like a stealth cougar, reacting as if its eyeball had been touched, Dimitre responded in an instant. He grabbed the baton from the man and, in one movement, rose to his feet. He punched the guard straight in the middle of his face, causing him to falter backward. Blood gushed from his nose.
Four nearby guards rushed over to try and restrain him.
Dimitre glanced over at the guard he had struck while the others gathered around him. The injured guard cradled his bloody face in his hands.
Dimitre spit on the ground barely missing the motioned officers.
“That’s it, Petrov. We’ve had enough of you. Back to solitary.”
One of the larger security guards yanked on one arm while a smaller guard pulled on the other. The third and fourth took up the rear and guided him to a black six by ten.
Dimitre found amusement with the fact they thoug
ht they could weaken him by solitary confinement. Seeing the dark, confined space caused him to smile. To him, it was like coming home. He was a creature of the night, a by-product of the darkness. They pushed him in and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
He walked to the back of the cell, dropped to the floor, and sat facing the door. His face cracked into a haughty smile when he pulled the newsprint from the sleeve of his left arm. He had just enough time to rip it and stuff it in there before the guard made the ill mistake of poking him with his baton. His contentment could only be revealed to the darkness of his windowless prison.
It was too dark to read it, but he held the paper in his hands, his mind musing over the words. Rapidly, his gratification and arrogance were exchanged for bitter fury.
The date on the newspaper—did he remember it correctly? He was certain he did and that would only mean one thing.
“No!” His voice roared and thundered, echoing off the walls of his tomb.
JESSICA CAME BACK TO THE car and found Mason lying back in the driver’s seat, eyes shut. “Did I catch you at a bad time? I thought you were going to read.”
He yawned. His expression was one of confusion. He reached to the side of his seat and straightened it.
“You woke me from a good dream. It’s nice to see you came back though. You were gone long enough.” He tapped the digital clock on the dash. It was four.
“The doctor sent me for blood work. It was in the same building, but you know how doctors’ offices work. They’re never running on time.” She did up her seat belt. “Now what would you like to do?”
“That’s a good question.” He pressed his lips together. “Let’s see. We could go for an early dinner.”
“Or pretty much a late lunch...”
“I know a great little place down near the water. We can just talk and drink.” He reiterated, “And drink.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should get back.”
“You brought up doing something else. Come on, they have the best burritos,” he said, his expression soft and small creases formed around his eyes. He held out his hand to gesture their size. “This big and full of ingredients. Sour cream. Most women love sour cream.”
“And how can I resist that?” She smiled, and he put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.
It only took ten minutes to reach the restaurant. Mason made the turn into the lot. Jessica’s eyes fell on the dilapidated building.
“Here? Are you sure the place isn’t condemned?” She no longer felt hungry or thirsty.
“I’m sure. In fact, it’s one of the best places—”
“To get a burrito or so your earlier review told me.” She smiled. “And you’ve never gotten sick from their food?”
“Only when I eat too much of it.” He smiled back at her. “Come on. You’ve just gotten too spoiled with award-winning restaurants.”
His comment brought her thoughts to Bryan. He would never eat at a place like this. Even if they had good food, the appearance would be enough to repel him.
“Perhaps I have. My standards must just be a little higher than yours.” She found herself flirting with him so often today even though it went contrary to her logic. She became aware of her stomach again, and the thought of spicy food didn’t hold much appeal.
“Maybe we should do this another day.”
“Please, I know you’ll enjoy it.” His eyes caught hers. “Oh, you’re not feeling well.” He tilted his head and looked at her purse.
She was oblivious to the vibration until his attention focused on her bag.
“Guess I better get that.” She reached in and answered the call.
MASON COULD NOT HEAR JESSICA’S caller, but he studied her facial reactions to get a feel for the purpose of the phone call. Her cheeks were flushed. Maybe they should make it another time. He could not win her over in one day anyway. She had been through a lot. It was too much for him to expect rapid progress in their relationship—besides a good thing couldn’t be rushed.
She closed her phone slowly and methodically. Her focus went through him. She wet her lips.
“Can you please take me back to the house?”
“Sure.” He hoped she would elaborate but didn’t want to press her.
The following silence was ear piercing to him. A blaring foghorn would have been preferred. He wanted to know who had called, what they wanted, and how their message could bring about such a change in her—but he was hesitant to ask.
-
Chapter 28
JESSICA BARELY GOT ANY SLEEP over the weekend. Mason had accommodated her need to change their plans Friday. She hoped that she hadn’t pushed him away too far. He hadn’t contacted her since he dropped her off. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell him who had called. She was thankful that he had been respectful enough of her privacy not to ask. If he had questioned her, she couldn’t have been held responsible for her reaction. It had been the estate lawyer and the matter was so incredibly personal.
In all honesty, she had not given the distribution of Bryan’s assets much thought. She knew Bryan loved her and thereby assumed he would have left her something. Monetary benefits weren’t what kept her with him. She loved the man he was and the potential he held within. Yet Glenn Baxter wanted to meet with her today, and she had a bad feeling. His voice held an empathetic appeal. Maybe she was reading too much into it. She had a couple days to revisit the conversation repeatedly in her mind. Every time her recollection of it changed.
She pulled into the driveway of the law office. The building was a one-story, gray brick structure. A wood sign with raised letters sat at the road front, in the middle of the manicured lawn, announcing it as BAXTER & BATES LEGAL OFFICES.
Inside the quiet hit her. No ringing phones, only the receptionist slowly typing on a keyboard. The front counter sat beneath an etched glass sign dangling from silver chains. It read, RECEPTION.
A woman who appeared to be in her late thirties sat beneath it. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a clip and a cordless headset hung on her ear. The woman smiled and acknowledged her.
“I’m Jessica Pratt. I’m here to see Glenn Baxter.”
The woman nodded and pressed some buttons on her phone. “Mister Baxter, Jessica Pratt is here to see you.” She tapped a button on her headset. “If you just have a seat for a moment, he’ll be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
The waiting area was straight across from the reception desk and was tastefully arranged. Six brown leather tub chairs sat in the shape of an opened rectangle around three glass tables. Jessica sat on an end one and placed her purse on the floor.
Her mind wandered. She didn’t know what this man had to tell her. She wished that breathing wasn’t necessary to carry her over to the point of being enlightened. Surely, Bryan had left her something. Even if it was a painting, a crystal bowl, or linen set. Her stomach tossed. She attributed it to nervous anticipation.
“Miss Pratt, can I get you a coffee while you wait?” The receptionist asked.
“No, I’m fine, but thank you.”
Jessica mustered a smile, but her mind was elsewhere. She was reliving all the events over again, all of them. Their happy moments, their disagreements, their argument that fateful last day, and him being lowered into the ground to his final resting place. Her throat tightened.
“Jessica?”
She lifted her head to see another woman standing at the doorway to the left of the reception desk. “Mister Baxter is ready to see you now.” She smiled.
Jessica’s heart sped up. Both women were accommodating and kind. Just like the people at the police station the day they told her they found Bryan’s remains. Jessica followed the young woman down the hall, where she stopped outside an office door, two down on the left.
“There he is.” She gestured with her arm for
Jessica to enter and closed the door behind her.
“Please, have a seat.” Glenn Baxter pointed toward a chair across from him.
He was a younger man than Jessica had pictured. She would peg him mid-fifties. He had a mustache, but it was trimmed and neatly groomed. His hair was black with sprinkles of gray throughout it. His eyes conveyed professionalism with a faint hint of empathy. Her eyes settled on his, and she realized he was making his own assessments about her.
She sat down and crossed her right leg over. She was so uncomfortable. She didn’t know whether to lean forward or sit back. She knew one thing, further confirmed by the expression on his face. He didn’t bring her here to spread joyous findings from the Will.
“I assume Andrea offered you coffee while you were waiting.” He reached for some papers on his desk.
Jessica nodded.
“Let’s just get to the point of today’s meeting. I’m not one to sugar coat things, Miss Pratt.” He settled back in his leather swivel chair. “Obviously, you know the distribution of assets was scheduled for completion this Friday.”
His words faded to her ears. She couldn’t bring him or anything he had to say into focus. She feared she already knew what he was going to say. She put a hand on her stomach and let her eyes drift past him to a filing cabinet with photographs on it. A woman whom she assumed was his wife had the warmest smile. She only realized how distracted she had become when the dull clamor of his speaking stopped. Her attention fell back to the lawyer who sat there watching her.
“I’m sorry, continue.”
“As I was trying to say, Miss Pratt, Bryan didn’t leave you anything in his Will.”
It was the revelation she feared. But to hear it out loud hit her with force. She sat back, uncrossed and crossed her legs the other way. Her blinks were long and heavy. Any tenderness or compassion she had thought the man possessed had disappeared if they had ever existed.
“I did, however, want to inform you as a courtesy. I know that you were the fiancée, and you likely assumed you would be included—”
Life Sentence Page 19
