G-Men: The Series

by ANDREA SMITH

  Jesus Christ! How in the hell was I supposed to process this turn of events? I hoped that I’d maintained my cool.

  Lindsey hadn’t acted as if anything was wrong. My head was spinning upon leaving the multi-million dollar mansion the Dennisons called home. What the fuck? I had no clue Sunny came from Banion money. No wonder she traveled incognito. Being rich must be a burden, one that I’d never know.

  I could barely focus on the movie. Coffee afterwards had seemed to drone on and on. I was pretty sure that Lindsey wasn’t suspicious of the questions I asked about her mother. I’d been picking her brain for a few weeks about her dad. That had been much easier. I simply made it look as if he was a mentor of monumental proportions to someone like me, just coming up the through the ranks. She’d loved talking about Daddy.

  She said her mom was getting ready to turn thirty-six. I had to smile. I bet Sunny had a hissy fit when, and if, she found out that Lindsey had shared that info with me. Chicks were funny about aging.

  What the fuck? Sunny looked to be more like twenty-five than thirty-five. I could almost guarantee that she’d grilled her poor daughter about our ‘faux’ date.

  I’d wanted to kick the rat bastard’s ass all over their ten acres when I put two and two together last evening.

  What a fucking wasteroid, hitting his wife, like I knew he had in the past. I was certain that Lindsey hadn’t a clue about that part of it. I couldn’t see her loving Daddy so much if she knew how he treated her mother.

  The truth was, this was the part of my job that I hated more than anything; duping nice people to find out information.

  Lindsey was a nice kid; an only child for Chrissake. She was sweet and innocent, but there’s no way I’d given her any indication I was anything other than a friend or confidante. I figured a kid growing up as an only child needed as many confidantes as possible.

  Hanging with Lindsey at Banion had given me plenty of opportunities to study the processes and procedures. It was my way in for getting into areas typically not accessible by interns, simply because she worked in those restricted areas.

  All I had to do was press my face up against the glass door of the test lab and wave to her; she would immediately buzz me in.

  We talked, well mostly she did the talking, while I observed and asked questions. She was happy to answer them all. She was a sweetie, for sure. I knew there was no way in hell Lindsey knew anything about her father’s criminal activities.

  Therein lay the problem. I couldn’t say the same thing about Sunny. Since I’d mistakenly assumed that Sunny was married to a truck driver, and lived in a trailer park, I wasn’t prepared to honestly and objectively assess her involvement, if any, in these activities.

  My thoughts were in turmoil. My emotions were right there, too, though I fucking hated admitting it. I thought if I ever set eyes on the prick-tease again, I’d feel nothing but the need to lash out at her…seek some sort of verbal revenge. I felt none of that now and it pissed me off in all honesty.

  My tumultuous thoughts were interrupted when my doorbell sounded. It was Taz and Donovan. I had summoned both of them to my apartment.

  I opened the door and they both filed in, looking none too pleased.

  “You know this isn’t typical protocol, right Eric?”

  “Yeah, yeah, have a seat. I wouldn’t have called you here if it wasn’t a matter of grave importance. I’m not a rookie, for Chrissake.”

  They both eyed me warily, and then took a seat on my overstuffed leather sofa.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience, Agent Matthews,” I said with a smirk.

  “Just get to the point,” Taz griped, twisting his ‘do-rag’ back into place.

  Taz fucking loved his role as mean biker gang member. I actually thought he was going to regret it when all of this shit was over, which was supposed to be fairly soon. Now, I wasn’t so sure. They were both waiting for me to say what I needed to say.

  “I think I may need to take myself off leading this investigation, guys.”

  “Are you crazy?” Donovan snapped, unable to contain his anger.

  “Hey, I’m the senior officer,” I snapped back. “Watch your fucking mouth, Craig.”

  “Both of you chill,” Taz interjected. He was forever the calm one.

  Donovan and I’d had our share of disagreements. Still, it wasn’t his fucking place to question a senior investigator. I knew that there was a major conflict here. Protocol said that I needed to make it known to the other operatives. I’d already communicated this to my senior operative in D.C., first thing this morning.

  “What’s going on?” Taz asked, his forehead breaking into those premature frown lines he got when worried. He was too damn young for frown lines. He hadn’t earned them, but I had.

  “Guess who the douche bag is married to?”

  “No…”

  “Yep. Diamond Girl.”

  “Who?” Donovan asked, clearly clueless.

  “Jack Dennison is married to the dancer Slate was fucking for a while, Diamond Girl, a.k.a., Sunny.”

  I threw Taz an immediate glare for describing Sunny as simply a fuck buddy. It was way more than that and he damn well knew it.

  “That’s impossible,” Donovan breathed, now feeling totally stupid that his investigative information was less than mediocre on such a high profile case. “I’ve met with her several times. She was cooperative, forthright and I know that there’s no way in hell that soccer mom’s a dancer.”

  “Well she is - was,” I corrected. “And she’s pregnant with what may turn out to be my child.”

  “What?” they both said in unison. “Did you also report that?”

  “I did. So you can see why this is a total conflict of interest for me. If, for one minute, the attorney defending her husband or those fucking bikers got wind of my involvement, it could blow the federal prosecutor’s case into oblivion.”

  “So, what are your instructions from DC? We were supposed to serve the warrants on the 5th.”

  “We’re to hold tight for a couple of days until revised instructions are provided. In the meantime, gentlemen, I have a 4th of July cookout to attend.”

  “You aren’t seriously still going out with the daughter are you?”

  “We aren’t going out,” I replied tersely. “I cultivated a friendship for the purpose of gaining information. That’s acceptable within the parameters of our jobs here, last I heard. I haven’t been instructed to do anything otherwise, at the moment. I wanted to fill you two in on the developments and to confirm that the ‘sit tight for now’ instructions are followed by you and the others. Do you understand?”

  Donovan and Taz both nodded. They were disappointed that things wouldn’t be moving as quickly as they would have liked. Neither of them were too keen on the fact that this case, which had consumed a great deal of our time for better than two years, first in Virginia and now here in Indiana, was stalled once again.

  They departed with their hang-dog demeanor and my commitment that I would be in contact as soon as I received further instructions.

  I dressed in my preppy college garb for the cook-out. I looked at my haircut in the mirror. I was so fucking glad that I’d been finally able to cut those long locks off. I didn’t appreciate the hair covering my neck with summer coming.

  I’d removed my earring, and kissed that fucking bandana good-bye, once and for all. Taz still loved playing that scene. I’d been done with it after leaving Manassas, Virginia when our first huge bust went down nearly two years prior.

  That one had been up close and personal for me. I’d taken great pleasure in putting those pieces of garbage away for life. They’d taken someone very close from me. They’d taken my sister, Laney, with their drug dealings, extortion and violence. I had a personal stake in that one. I had no clue that, two years later, it would lead me back to Indiana, back to where I’d been raised all those years ago.

  I grabbed the
keys to my pick-up truck and headed out. It was a good half-hour drive to the Dennison estate.

  I almost chuckled to myself as I thought about how off-base I’d been in my professional assessment of Sunny. I prided myself on reading people quickly and being able to assess their personal situations. I’d totally missed the boat on that one.

  She had reminded me a little bit of Laney. She looked innocent and out of place at that club…like she needed someone to watch out for her. I’d fallen right into that role, whether I wanted it or not. I couldn’t help myself where she was concerned.

  My first impression was one of awe and appreciation. I saw Diamond-the-dancer, who looked like an angel, and danced like a born seductress. I’d gotten a hard-on just watching her dance. Innocence and lustiness all rolled up into one beautiful chick that could move her body in perfection to the music. I was intrigued. I was more than intrigued; I was fucking amazed by her.

  I needed to shake it off. This wasn’t about me and her at the moment. She had some explaining to do, but only after I was absolutely sure that she wasn’t involved in the criminal shit her ass-hat husband had going.

  Donovan had called her a soccer mom. I wasn’t about to take his word for shit right now. I’d have to find this out for myself. If Sunny was involved, Sunny would go down with the rat bastard and all of the others. I’d see to that.

  My instincts told me that Sunny was innocent of criminal activities. My heart was counting on it.

  chapter 38

  My mother and father had finally left. I hated to sound that way, but my father could wear anyone out. He’d done a fairly good job of it this afternoon. First with me (in front of Slate, naturally) going on and on about my pregnancy and hoping for a grandson…and it’s about god-damn time Jack had me barefoot and pregnant again. I’d literally felt my cheeks glow red with that remark. I didn’t dare look over at Slate. I wasn’t sure if he’d figured it out yet. As far as I was concerned, the S.O.B. could think this baby was Jack’s.

  Then Daddy had kept referring to Slate as ‘Lindsey’s Young Man,’ which had made her uncomfortable and kind of pissed me off at the same time. I’d made a point of checking out Slate’s reaction through my peripheral vision. He’d remained cool, calm, and collected.

  Jack had simply managed to get drunk and laugh at his own stupid jokes, while constantly checking his cell for messages.

  Slate had been eyeballing Jack. I busted him a couple of times, throwing him a hateful glare when he thought no one was looking. I could tell it pissed him off when Jack would tell me to fetch him another beer, or when Jack made a big production of grilling me about the potato salad.

  “Are you sure you used your regular recipe on this batch, Sammie? It tastes like something is missing.”

  “Missing something? Like what?”

  “How about flavor?” he said, guffawing at his own nasty barb.

  “Perhaps the alcohol has dulled your taste buds today.”

  Jack had given me a hateful glare, turning to look at Slate.

  “Hey, Eric, don’t feel as if you have to clean your plate there, buddy. Somehow, Sammie has made her potato salad taste bland. No one will be offended.”

  Slate had given him a look, purposely digging into the bowl and putting more of it on his plate.

  “Tastes fine to me, Mr. Dennison,” he said with a wink.

  “Jack - call me Jack,” he said once again, tossing back the rest of his beer. “I guess it’s all in what you’re used to buddy. Me? I have a taste for the finer things.”

  My father cleared his throat loudly after that exchange and then stood up.

  “Come on, Joan. It’s about time we head out to the club if you want to watch those fireworks.”

  My mother helped me with the last of the clearing, then caught me in the kitchen.

  “Remember what I said, Samantha. We’ll support you in any decision you make. I hope you make one soon.”

  With that, she kissed my cheek and left me standing, somewhat stunned, in the kitchen. Wow, my mother was more intuitive than I’d ever thought. Why now, though?

  I peered out the kitchen window to the deck. Jack had gotten up and was out in the yard with his cell phone up to his ear. Lindsey and Slate were heading into the house.

  My heart fluttered as I wondered if he was taking her out this evening.

  “I’m going to give Eric a tour of the house, Mom. He really likes your decorating.”

  Slate gave me a warm smile that betrayed nothing.

  “I really love your place, Samantha,” he said. “I can’t tell you how great it’s been spending time here today.”

  “Why, thank you, Eric. I suppose your family lives out of state somewhere?”

  “Here and there,” he said, in his typical evasive manner.

  “Let’s start downstairs,” Lindsey interrupted, taking him by the arm.

  Thirty minutes later, Lindsey and Eric came out onto the deck where I was sitting with Jack.

  “Mom, Eric’s getting ready to leave. He wondered if he could take some of your potato salad home. I’m going to fix him a plate.”

  I looked up at Slate and caught the warmth in his eyes as he smiled down at me. I blushed, caught off-guard by the moment.

  “Hell, Lindsey,” Jack called after her, “have him take it all with him. It probably does taste good to a bachelor.”

  Jack killed the rest of his beer, then handed me his empty bottle. I started to get up to go fetch him another one. Slate’s eyes met mine briefly and, with one look, I could tell he wanted me to stay put. I sank back down in my chair.

  “Yo Lindsey,” he hollered, “grab your dad another brewsky on your way back, yeah?”

  “Sure thing,” she called out.

  When Lindsey reappeared, she had her dad’s beer and a foil-covered plate for Slate.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Dennison, thank you so much for having me here as your guest today,” Slate said. “The food was fantastic, and the company was mostly great.”

  He smiled at me when he spoke, his dimple making a rare appearance.

  Jack stood up and shook his hand. “Glad you enjoyed it, Eric. You’re welcome anytime. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” he replied, with a wink.

  Oh my.

  “I’m going to walk Eric out,” Lindsey said, her face not showing as much enthusiasm as earlier.

  “Good evening, Eric,” I said, as they turned to go.

  I looked back over at Jack. Something was on his mind. He’d been terribly distracted all day. He generally didn’t pound beers the way he’d been pounding them all afternoon, either.

  “Jack,” I started, “is everything okay?”

  “Sure it is,” he said with no conviction. His voice was empty. “Everything is just fine, Sammie.” His eyes were blank as they looked out over towards the setting sun.

  I took time in the shower, lathering my skin up and letting the cool water rinse over me. I shampooed my hair and stood under the stream of water, contemplating today’s events. The only way to possibly describe it was strange, incredibly strange.

  I never had the opportunity to catch Slate alone. It was if he’d choreographed it that way, always sparking a conversation with someone when they were on their way out of the room, just so we would never have the chance to be alone, even for a brief moment.

  After my shower, I combed out my hair and dressed in a pair of silky shorts with a matching cami top. I slathered lotion on my legs as I sat on the bed. My cell phone rang. It was Becky.

  “Can you talk?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Why are you whispering?”

  “George is in the other room. I’ve been dying to know how it went today. Spill it now.”

  I relayed the events of today, including the unusual conversation that had taken place between my mother and me.

  “No shit? Really? That’s so uncharacteristic of your mom, i
sn’t it?”

  “It really is. I hope everything’s okay with her and Daddy.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is hun. Maybe she finally sees what a bastard he is, Sam. It definitely sounds as if she’s dealing with guilt over the whole thing after all of these years.”

  “Yeah, but why? I need to get her without Daddy some time for lunch or something. There’s more to all of this. I’m sure of it.”

  I sat on the bed and talked to Becky for another half-hour while I painted my toenails. She was hysterical about the whole incident with the potato salad.

  “You see, Sam. That’s so ‘Jack’ in the way he talks to you. I’m glad Slate put him in his place without appearing to do so. It sounds like Jack was getting kind of trashed.”

  “Yeah, no shit. I’m definitely keeping my deadbolt locked tonight.”

  “What do you think all that was about?”

  “He’s worried about something. I don’t have anything concrete to give Donovan, though. I mean, he has been sticking close to Indy these past few weeks. He never freaking leaves his cell phone around. I think he sleeps with it under his pillow and that’s no exaggeration.”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Yep. Got to. I have to take care of Dalton.”

  “Who the hell’s Dalton?”

  “That’s the name I’ve picked out for the baby.”

  “Oh geez! You’ll have that name changed fifty million times before that baby’s even born. I remember what we went through with Lindsey, don’t you?”

  “There weren’t that many names,” I argued.

  “Really? Let’s see: Jessica, Emily, Justine, Kylie, Jillian, Jamie, Zoë, Hannah, Rebecca, Anna - need I go on?”

  “No, please don’t,” I laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep the name to myself until such time as the baby’s here and I have my final choice.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Hey, gotta go. George wants to go to the end of the street. We can see the fireworks from the empty field.”

  “‘Kay, talk to you later.”

  I checked my toenails to make sure they weren’t still tacky before I crawled under the sheets of my bed. They were good.