by Kayt Miller
As Violet approaches my house, I spot the dark sedan parked at my curb. Ian. When he left, he and I looked at each other. He gave me a sexy chin lift as he exited. I knew he’d be here just like he said. God, this is such a bad idea. I decide not to say a word to my sister; instead, I hop out of her car, thank her for being the designated driver, and speed walk to my front door because maybe, just maybe, if I hurry, I can get into the house, lock the door, and pretend I’m not home.
No such luck.
“Agatha.”
I don’t see him, but I know he’s sitting in the shadows of my front porch. It was the main selling feature of my little bungalow. The front porch spans almost the entire width of the front of the house. I’ve got a cozy seating area on one side with a fern and rug. I read out there when the weather is right. He must be in one of my wicker chairs. It’s too dark to say for sure. He approaches me from the shadows, looking amazing in his tee and jeans.
I was too nervous at the bar to notice what Ian was wearing. Now that it’s just the two of us, and thanks to the glow of my front porch light, I can really appreciate his attire. His jeans hug his thighs nicely. The legs taper down but not too much. They aren’t skinny jeans for goodness sake. Then, there’s his tee. It’s heather gray and snug on his body. I didn’t notice it at the bar, but I see it now. The front has small text in black that reads: Mischief Managed. That’s it, put a fork in me, I’m done. He’s wearing a Harry Potter tee. A tee I want to touch, badly. I’d bet anything it’s soft.
“That’s really creepy, Ian. I bet you were an excellent FBI agent. You know how to hide in plain sight.”
“Actually, I was just so-so.”
Just so-so? “Really?”
He stops in front of me and looks down at my face. “Really. If you fuck up and get sliced and diced by a serial killer, you’re a pretty shitty agent.”
“I’m sure the circumstances were beyond your control.” I don’t know why I’m trying to give him excuses. I wasn’t there. Maybe he was a shitty cop.
“That’s the thing,” he says as he slides his finger down my cheek, pushing a rogue strand of hair out of my face. “I was trained to know how to handle exactly those situations and I fucked up.”
“How?” I ask, softly, because his hand feels nice now that it’s moving up and down my arm.
“The Bureau had worked on the set up for weeks. We had agents, couples, at every city park in Chicago because all of our intel told us the Slasher was going to strike that night and we knew that’s where he liked to attack. My ex-wife and I were one of those couples. The plan was we’d be sitting on a park bench, making out like horny teenagers while other agents monitored us.”
Ian hesitates so I wait for him to continue.
“The Slasher came from behind, so I didn’t see him approach. That’s where I fucked up.” He steps back, leaning against the side of the house. “I saw only a glint from his knife blade as it moved toward my wife. I had no time to draw my weapon. I only had time to react, pushing her down as I covered her body, so I could take the brunt of the attack.”
“You saved her life?”
Ian makes a scoffing sound. “I did, but that’s not how she saw it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go inside.” He nods toward my door. “I’ll finish the story in there.”
I take the key out of my front pocket. Pushing the door open, I let Ian walk in first. He turns on a lamp I’ve got on a side table and moves to sit on the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water and wine.”
“A glass of wine, actually. Thanks.”
Me too. I pour us both a glass. I sit next to him and hand him his drink. “Keep going.”
Leaning back, he sighs, “She saw it as a slight. Catherine was working toward a promotion. She thought I sabotaged her entire career when I threw my body over hers to protect her.”
Catherine. His wife’s name was Catherine. “Did you?”
“No.” He chuckles, but it’s not funny. “My first instinct is to protect. I would have done the same thing to any partner I was working with, man or woman.”
I place my hand on his leg, right above his knee. He notices. “I’ve only known you a short time, Ian, but I believe that about you.” Gah! He’s getting to me. I can feel his emotions all around us. I can tell this is hard for him to talk about. The fact that he’s telling me means something. But my inner dialogue isn’t going to let me off that easy. Stop it right now, Agatha! Don’t read too much into it. He’s complicated, remember?
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Shoot. I’m getting the feelz again. “Is that why you retired?”
“Like I mentioned the other day, it was either that or sit at a desk. To become a pencil-pusher. I would have gone bat-shit crazy at a desk all day. No offense.”
“None taken. I get it. There were days as an accountant I just wanted to bolt. I think that’s why I had my coffee shop breaks. I needed to get up and out of the office.”
He leans forward to get his wine. I watch as he places the glass to his lips to sip. He’s got sexy lips. “You’re staring, Agatha.”
I am. “No, I’m just thinking.”
“About your failed FBI agent?”
My failed FBI agent? “No. What happened to Catherine? Did she get a promotion?”
“Yep.”
“And you two couldn’t work it out?” What the heck am I doing? This is none of my business.
“No. She said she’d never forgive me. That I was a misogynist.”
“A misogynist? Why? Because you tried to save her life?”
He pauses adding, “Plus, she was sleeping with our deputy director.”
“She cheated?” God, I hate cheaters.
Nodding, he replies, “She did, and yes. Because I saved her life. She said she didn’t need to be protected and that she would have gotten the Slasher if it weren’t for me.” Sipping his drink again, he sets it down, leans forward, places his palm on my cheek and kisses me.
I guess he’s done talking. I pull away from his soft, gentle kisses. “Ian?”
“It’s been a long day, honey. I just want to slide into bed with you, wrap my arms around you, and sleep. We can finish talking tomorrow. Yeah?”
He wants to slide into bed with me? Wrap his arms around me? My neglected lady parts are screaming, hellz yeah! But the realist in me knows I shouldn’t. This is a terrible idea. But I want it. Even though it’s a very bad idea, even though he’s complicated. This, whatever this is, will never last. I know it and so does he. I’m going to get hurt. But the truth is, I crave his touch.
“Yeah.”
He stands up first, holding his hand out to me. Placing mine in his big, warm one, I stand and lead the way to my bedroom. My mind races. What should I wear to bed? My nightie is hanging on the hook with my robe. I wore that last time. Instead, I step to my dresser and withdraw a tee and shorts. He’s watching me. “I’ll, uh, just change in the bathroom.”
“Sounds good.”
I race out the door and down my short hallway into my bathroom. I quickly change into my sleepwear, brush my teeth and hair, use the facilities, and remove the little remaining makeup on my face. “This is a bad idea, Agatha.” It is, but my entire life has been safe. I don’t remember the last time I did anything risky. Well, the guy in Vegas. That was certainly risky, and fun, until the guy suddenly started snoring. This is different. For one, we’re both sober––sort of. For another, I’m tired of being risk-averse. No, this time I’m doing it. I’m climbing into bed with the sexiest guy I’ve ever met. Some fooling around would do me good.
Standing next to my bed, I see Ian’s already undressed. His shirt is off, but the sheet and blanket are covering his lower half, so I don’t know if he’s naked. Sliding beneath the covers, I lay stiffly, like a mummy in a tomb.
“Relax, Agatha,” he whispers in my ear. His arm reaches across me, nudging me until I’m facing him. “Tell me more about Kim Reynolds.”
Oh, so we’re talking about this now? So much for fooling around. “What about her?” He can’t possibly think Kim did this.
“You’ve worked with her for six years?”
“About, yeah.”
“What’s she like?”
“Nice. Quiet. We got along well. We weren’t close or anything. We didn’t socialize.”
“Did she have other friends at work?”
“Ian, you can’t possibly think Kim would do this. She’s trying to make a home for her daughter.”
“She’s single, right?”
“She is now. The guy she was with didn’t want kids. So, they split up when she got Amelia.”
“That’s pretty shitty. He sounds like an ass.”
“He was in law enforcement.” I smirk, but he missed it since it’s pretty dark in the room.
“Oh? Now that makes sense. Was he a federal agent?”
“Not sure. Camille would probably remember. I could ask her. What makes sense?”
“She knew about the Slasher and my wife. Ex-wife. So, what about Monica Bellamy?”
Changing the subject, I see. “No way. She’s a sweetheart. She’d never…”
“Agatha, trust me when I say that criminals can take on a role, act the part. We’re talking about your freedom, honey. You can’t trust anyone.”
Not even you? “My freedom? What’re you talking about? I thought they weren’t going to press charges.”
Rubbing his hands over his face, he releases a deep breath. “They told you it was over one hundred thousand, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because we found that money in accounts in your name. But you know it was actually over a million, right?”
I nod. “Yes.” I’m not going to like this.
“Once we find the rest of the money, they intend to press charges.”
Sitting up ramrod straight, I sputter, “B-b-but I didn’t take the money. What if whoever did this created more accounts in my name?”
Ian wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his chest. “Shush. We’ll figure it out.” His palm is rubbing my back, up and down. It feels good. “I promise, baby, we’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” I say weakly. “I feel so pathetic and worthless. I can’t really help.”
“You’re not worthless or pathetic. You’re helping more than you know. Now, tell me about Monica, then Trent.”
Trent? He suspects Trent?
“I’ve had drinks with Monica a few times. I know she’s married with a couple of kids. She’s got their pictures on her desk. They’re really cute.”
“Good. Great information, Agatha. Do you think her kids could be involved?” he chides. His question is light, there’s humor in his voice.
I laugh and slap his bare chest lightly. “Fine. Let’s see, they’ve got a nice-ish house. She’s worked at H&S for four or five years.”
“Five.”
“Okay, five. But, that’s really all I know. I told you she was funny.”
“Monica Bellamy is funny. Got it.”
Ignoring the smart-ass comment, I move on to Trent. “Trent. He’s been there a long time. I’m not sure how long. He’s single…” and ready to mingle. Snort. “He was always nice. To me, anyway.”
Ian stops rubbing my back. It’s like it freezes. “You have feelings for Trent?”
“What?!” I squeak. “No. We were just…”
“Friends?”
“Yes, Ian. Just friends.”
“But you wanted more?”
“No. Not really.” And I think I mean that. Trent was just a fixation. If I’d really wanted something with him, I’m pretty sure I would have done something about it. “No. I didn’t want more.”
“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”
Why does he sound angry?
“There was never anything there. We were just friends. He was kind to me. We had coffee and lunch sometimes. He’d join our group when we went out for drinks. That’s it.”
“Mm hmm.” Ian slides back down beneath the covers. “I’m beat, honey. In the morning, I want to ask you about Drake and…”
I growl at Drake’s name.
“You don’t care for Drake?”
“Nope. You want talk about Drake and who else?”
“Miriam.”
“Miriam Smith? Ha! That’s a joke. There’s no way she could pull off a computer scheme like that. Not without help. She’s computer illiterate. According to Trent, that IT guy, Victor, is in her office almost daily trying to help her with stuff. Hell, Camille’s even tried to help her with stuff.” I laugh but it comes out more pig-like. Snorting isn’t the most attractive sound.
“That’s interesting. Victor Smiley?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’ve met Victor.”
I shiver. “Victor always gave Camille and me the willies.”
“How so?”
“Well, for me, it was because he believes showering is optional, but Camille said his eyes were super pervy and she claimed he was always grinning at her when no one else was looking.”
“He does have an odor and as for the grin, isn’t his last name Smiley?”
“Ha! Funny man.”
He yawns and moves in closer, wrapping his arms around me. “We’ll finish up in the morning.”
“You were going to bring bagels,” I whine.
“I’ll still get you bagels, baby,” he whispers in my ear sweetly.
Gah! Why, why, why am I letting this man in when I know all he’s going to do is ransack my heart?
Chapter 24
Ian
Victor Smiley
Age: 57
DOB: 3-17-61
Height: 6’0”
Weight: 175
Address: Whispering Sands Apartments,
300 Sandhill Road. Apt # 15, Page, Arizona 86040
Property Type: Rental
Rent amount: $575 / month
Driver’s License State: Arizona
Title: Information Technology Support Specialist
Annual Income: $62,000.00
Years at H&S: 5
Marital Status: Divorced
Children: 1 (daughter)
Criminal record: None
Social Media: Twitter
Jason has done a good job avoiding the IT department. They’d be able to pick up on Jason’s skillset and we want to keep that on the down-low. As far as they’re concerned, we’re auditors in search of the missing money. What they don’t know is Jason’s hacked into the systems multiple times, searching for IP addresses and other trails that could lead us to others in the company.
I know whoever did this could be anyone, but there are personality traits that carry through to most embezzlers. Like the fact they’re usually older than other criminals, over thirty, because they begin their criminal activity at a much later age. Most are married with traditional family situations. As a rule, they have higher levels of education than the average criminal. The majority of perpetrators are white. Nearly all of them are first-time offenders with clean employment histories. The majority of offenders used to be men but since more women are in leadership roles, those numbers have increased which is why some refer to it as a ‘pink-collar crime.’ I just call it a crime. Period.
I hear Agatha’s breathing even out which tells me she’s asleep. Her soft body is pressed against mine and it’s nice. No, that’s not right. It’s better than nice. It’s fucking amazing. Catherine was a beautiful woman but nothing about her was soft. She worked out more than I did, and I think she could probably bench press me. I’m not criticizing. It was part of our job to keep our bodies in shape. It’s as much a weapon as a gun sometimes. But now, with this beautiful, curvy woman in my arms, I now know what’s been missing in my life. Pulling her in more tightly, I close my eyes and listen to the rhythm of her little snores. I let my body relax because for the first time in my life, I know this is it. Home.
I stare as Agatha smears cre
am cheese on her bagel. “So, how do you like the bagels?” I woke up with the sun out of habit, so I decided to run out and get my girl her bagels. When I returned, she was still asleep. I brewed some coffee, checked my messages, sent a few, and contemplated showering when sleeping beauty finally woke up.
Biting into her breakfast, she speaks with her mouth full, “Good. Fanks.”
I chuckle as I prepare my bagel. I waited to let her choose her favorite flavor, cinnamon crunch. Note to self, get two of those next time.
I select a cinnamon raisin bagel and swipe a thin layer of cream cheese over the top. Before I take a bite, I ask her, “So, tell me about Miriam Smith.” Agatha’s take on my short list of suspects is helpful, but I do know a little about Miriam from my background check.
Miriam Smith
Age: 56
DOB: 7-10-62
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 265
Address: 15 Reflection Canyon, Page, Arizona
Property Type: Rent
Payment amount: $2094 / month
Driver’s License State: Arizona
Title: Human Resources Director
Annual Income: $105,210.00
Years at H&S: 5.5
Marital Status: Divorced
Children: 1 (daughter)
Criminal record: None
Social Media: Facebook
“Well, I don’t really know her very well,” she says, sipping her coffee. “I talked to her during my performance reviews and whenever I was turned down for a promotion.” She rolls her eyes as she takes another bite.
“How often did that happen?”
“Too often.” Wiping a little cream cheese from her lips, she adds, “Three times since I got my CPA.”
