The Drowning Man

by Sara Vinduska

  It would be so easy to just kill her, Simon thought. He could take her out right now, in front of Barlow. One shot was all it would take, and she would die right there at Barlow's feet and there wouldn’t be a damned thing he could do to save her.

  What would that do to a man like Trent Barlow, who died a little each time he wasn't able to save someone? Could be interesting to find out.

  But then she wouldn't suffer. And that was his primary objective after all. So he would keep watching and waiting. The right opportunity for his plan would present itself. All in good time.

  Chapter 28

  Lora gave a skeptical look at the pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on her stove. She'd lost her mind. That was the only explanation there was. She didn't cook for herself, let alone for anyone else. But for some crazy reason she'd felt the need to call Trent and invite him over for dinner.

  The pot of water for the pasta reached a rolling boil that matched the anticipation coursing through her. She should have cancelled the whole thing. A glance at the clock told her it was too late for second thoughts now.

  She dipped a spoon in the sauce, tasted it, and shrugged. Not half bad. She gave it a final stir as the doorbell rang.

  Trent stood in the hallway dressed in khakis and a button down blue shirt. Untucked. She had to fight down the urge to run her hands underneath the shirt. She shook her head and stepped aside to let him in.

  Trent followed her to the kitchen and inhaled deeply. He was hungry, glad his stomach finally felt back to normal. Then again, maybe it was the company. He looked Lora up and down. Dark jeans and a white sweater hugged her every curve.

  “I’m not the best cook,” she said with a shrug.

  “I don’t exactly have gourmet tastes, Lora.”

  She suddenly looked vulnerable. “I just wanted to do this right.”

  “You can’t do it wrong.”

  She smiled and looked down. She didn't smile often, and he loved it when she did it only for him.

  As soon as she'd set the table, there was a knock at the door. Lora glanced at the clock on the stove and shook her head. “Punctual to the minute, as usual.”

  Trent raised an eyebrow. “You order pizza or something? Is your cooking that bad?”

  Lora just smiled and handed him a glass of water. “Wait here.”

  Trent sat at Lora's table, trying to place the muffled voice he heard talking to Lora. He stood as soon as Drayton Nabors walked into the living room, Lora a step behind.

  “Mr. Barlow, please excuse the intrusion. I thought it was time we were officially introduced, so I'm afraid I've invited myself to dinner.”

  Trent reached out to shake the old man's hand. “It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Nabors.”

  “Likewise.” The old man pulled a small bottle of Scotch out of his suit jacket. “Have to bring my own,” he said with a wink. Then he nodded at Lora and shook his head. “God love her, but she doesn't exactly keep a stocked bar.”

  Lora groaned and handed him a glass. She motioned to the table. “Please, have a seat.”

  Dinner conversation centered around the upcoming football playoffs and Trent couldn't help but think how jealous Nate would be if he knew who Trent was having dinner with.

  A half-hour later, Drayton pushed his empty plate aside. “That was actually a pretty good meal.”

  “You don't have to sound so surprised, Pops,” Lora said as she stood to clear the table.

  While Lora went into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and take care of the dishes, her grandfather refilled his glass and poured one for Trent. “My one vice,” he said.

  Trent took a sip. “Very nice.”

  “If you only have one vice, you better make sure you stick to the good stuff.” He raised his glass towards Trent's.

  “I'll drink to that,” Trent said, clicking his glass against Drayton's.

  “Now, tell me your intentions for my granddaughter.”

  “Pops!” Lora said from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

  “I'm only kidding,” Drayton said. He winked at Trent. “Kind of.”

  Lora sat back down at the table with a cup of coffee.

  Drayton turned back towards Trent. “You play cards, son?”

  “Of course.”

  Lora reached over to the bookshelf and grabbed a deck off one of the shelves.

  “Hearts?” Drayton asked.

  “Works for me,” Trent said.

  Lora nodded.

  “He's a keeper,” Drayton said to her.

  “Shit,” Lora said a minute later as her pager went off. “I'll be right back,” she said standing and opening her cell, as she headed for the balcony.

  Drayton refilled his and Trent's glasses again. “She tell you why she doesn't drink?” he asked.

  Trent shook his head.

  “I'm not surprised. I shouldn't, but I'm going to tell you anyway. So you understand why I won't tolerate anyone hurting her ever again.”

  Trent cleared his throat and shifted in his chair under the old man's stern gaze.

  “The family's housekeeper committed suicide over an affair she was having with Lora’s father when he broke it off. The saddest truth of all was that the woman had been more of a mother to Lora than her real mother had ever been, as much as I loved my daughter. Lora found out the details of the affair and the housekeeper’s death when she was fifteen and her mother had too many martinis after work when her father was out of town on business. Lora was so upset her mom mixed a martini for her. One turned into more and Lora spent the next day in bed sicker than she’d ever been. She hasn't had a drop of alcohol since.”

  Trent rubbed his forehead. “Jesus,” he whispered. “What happened to her parents, I know they're dead, but …”

  Lora came back into the room and looked from one of them to the other, then settled an accusing glare on her grandfather. “Pops?”

  He put up his hands. “Just a friendly chat.”

  “You need to go in?” Trent asked.

  Lora shook her head. “No, Woods is handling it.”

  “Good. Now, sit down and let's play some cards,” Drayton said, shuffling the deck.

  It was after two a.m. when they stopped playing. Drayton paged his driver. “I'd ask if you want a ride,” he said to Trent, “but I don't think Lora will mind if you stay here.”

  Lora blushed, but she quickly stood to kiss him on the cheek. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

  Trent stood and shook his hand. “Take care, sir.”

  After seeing her grandfather to the front door, Lora sank down onto the couch. “I'm beat,” she said. “Time for bed.”

  “I have a better idea,” Trent said. “Let's take a bath.”

  Chapter 29

  The Plaza in downtown Kansas City, with all its upscale shops and restaurants, was not a place Trent would normally choose to go. But when Lora had suggested it on a rare day off together in the middle of the week, he couldn't say no. Though it hardly seemed like her kind of place either. “Come here a lot?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I haven't been here since I was a kid.”

  He waited. He liked taking walks together with her. She seemed to open up to him when they walked side by side instead of sitting somewhere facing each other, unlike almost every other woman he'd met. His patience paid off a few minutes later.

  “It's one of the few good memories I have from my childhood. Coming here at Christmastime with my mom and dad.”

  Funny how a few sentences from her meant more to him than hours of talk with most other women he knew. He took her hand in his and looked around. He had to admit that with the light snow falling, the white lights in the trees lining the streets, the people with flushed faces and arms loaded with packages, there was a certain appeal to the area.

  “God, I do love this city in the winter,” Lora said. She paused, staring across the street. Whatever it was she saw, it wasn't good. Trent watched the subtle changes as she transformed from woman to cop. He fel
t a chill that had nothing to do with the cold winter air.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Let’s go in here for a minute,” she said, jaw tight, eyes scanning up and down the street.

  Here was a trendy clothing store where even the people working there looked like they were still in high school. Not a place Lora would normally shop at. Trent followed her inside, casting a quick glance behind them. He saw nothing out of place, no one who looked suspicious.

  Lora pretended to browse through the racks, her eyes rarely leaving the front windows of the store. Trent stood off to the side, waiting, watching.

  Five minutes later, Lora relaxed and turned to him. “Ready to move on?” she asked.

  “Sure. Coffee?”

  “God, yes.”

  They didn’t speak again until they were in a back booth of the nearest coffee shop, steaming mugs in front of them on the table. “Okay. What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered, staring down into the black liquid in her mug.

  “Bullshit. You saw something. Or someone,” he added.

  “I didn’t see anything, okay. Just a feeling.”

  Trent took a swallow of his coffee, his sense of dread growing. “Simon,” he said softly.

  “Probably just being paranoid,” she said, taking a drink.

  Trent put his hand on her knee under the table. “Lora, I trust your instincts. If you think it’s him …”

  “I don’t want to spoil our day. See, that’s the unfortunate thing about dating a cop. We’re kind of a paranoid bunch.”

  He looked into her eyes and gave a half-smile. “The building has a new sprinkler system. There’s a fire extinguisher to the left of the kitchen door. There’s an emergency exit door at the end of the hallway, just past the bathrooms.” He shrugged. “It’s amazing what our jobs will do to us.”

  “You know, my parents never accepted the fact that I loved being a cop. I don’t think they actually thought I’d make it through the academy, much less make detective. Of course, they weren’t around to see that. I’d like to think they would have been proud, but I know that wouldn’t have happened. They would have been disappointed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Trent said, because he couldn’t think of anything more profound.

  She waved him off. “Can’t change the fact I wasn’t born a son or had no interest in any of the family’s many business ventures.”

  “How did they die?”

  She didn't answer.

  “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” he said.

  “No, it's okay. It was a car accident in Monaco. They were on vacation in a rental car and massive quantities of alcohol were involved, I'm sure.”

  “Sometimes parents don’t exactly earn their children’s pride and respect either,” Trent said, quietly.

  She nodded, her face somber. “You were pretty young when you lost your father.”

  “No big loss there. I had my brother and even back then, he was ten times the man my father was.” What he didn’t want to tell her was that his father had used Eddie’s death as another reason to hate Trent. The man had already resented the hell out of both of his sons since they were a constant reminder of their mother leaving. He tried to shake off the dark thoughts. “Ready for a new subject?”

  Lora smiled “Absolutely.” She laughed. “Well, we’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

  He grinned. “Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll prove it to you.”

  A few hours later, Trent opened his eyes and looked at the bedside table where Lora's holster and gun lay. I'm dating a cop, he thought, fighting back laughter. His eyes settled on the curves underneath the thin material of the sheet next to him. An incredibly sexy cop. He reached out his hand to touch her, smiling as she turned towards him and snuggled closer, eyes still closed. All her edges and firm muscles softened when she slept, making her look almost vulnerable. Almost. He closed his eyes, absorbing the feel and smell of her, more content than he could ever remember being.

  Lora wasn't beside him when he woke up. Trent rolled over and looked at the clock. Four a.m. He swung his bare feet over the side of the bed, pulled on his boxers, and walked down the hall towards the flickering light from the T.V. She was curled up on the couch wearing his T-shirt, a glass of water in one hand and the remote in the other. The sound was on mute.

  He sat down next to her and took the glass and remote out of her hands, placing them on the coffee table in front of them. She slowly turned to face him. He recognized what he saw on her face, in her eyes. God knows he'd dealt with the same thing more times than he could count. He pulled her head down onto his bare chest and her arms wrapped around his stomach. The room was warm, but her body shook with shivers. Sometimes the aftermath of a nightmare was almost as bad as the actual images.

  Eventually she stirred and raised her lips to meet his. She pulled up the T-shirt with one hand and pulled down the waistband of his boxers with the other. It started out gentle then Trent let her take the lead, let her use his body to take away the last remnants of the painful memories. She came violently, digging her nails into his back. She grabbed onto his hips, urging him on. He drove hard into her, filling her, giving her everything he had to give. Breathing hard, he rolled onto his side where they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

  When Trent woke up a few hours later, he smelled coffee brewing. He sat up and rubbed a hand across the stubble on his face.

  “I hope you don't mind,” Lora said from the kitchen. “I thought we could both use some caffeine this morning.”

  Trent stood up and stretched, thinking how nice it was to have someone else brew the coffee for a change. “Sounds great,” he said, moving towards the kitchen.

  It was also damned nice having her in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, in nothing but his shirt that exposed almost all of her toned legs.

  She smiled and shook her head as his gaze traveled up and down her body. “Coffee and breakfast first.”

  As soon as there was enough of the steaming liquid for a cup, Trent grabbed the pot.

  “What are you doing?” Lora asked, taking it out of his hands and putting it back on the burner.

  “What? That's the point of having pause and serve.”

  Lora shook her head. “It screws up the entire pot.”

  He shook his head. “You and my brother. You take coffee way too seriously.”

  “I knew I liked your brother for a reason.”

  Trent rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he now refers to coffee as sweet nectar of life.”

  “Well, your brother’s just full of words of wisdom.”

  “He’s full of something, all right.”

  Simon paced the small kitchen in the apartment he'd managed to negotiate for six months rent in cash, no questions asked. He looked at the dirty peeling linoleum that covered the floor, the rickety table, the cracked sink. A far cry from the way he'd been living in Caroline's house. Or back in Las Vegas where he'd been paid very well for his unique skills. He shook his head. No need for any of that fancy shit now.

  He could see his targets so clearly. They were probably still asleep after a long night of fucking. Enjoy it while you can, he thought.

  It was too bad Trent had to fall for the cop, it really was. Simon would have been perfectly content to just take care of her, but now Trent had gone and gotten all caught up in her web. And anyone who associated with her was fair game. Trent had had his chance. He'd been lucky once. He wouldn't be again.

  Simon had watched them for hours at the Plaza the day before, sickened by how enamored Trent had become of the cop. How Barlow could be with someone like that made no sense.

  Though she was better than he’d originally given her credit for, she'd never be good enough. She’d felt his presence, but hadn’t seen him. He was much too good for that. His track record spoke for itself. Twenty-three kills and none of them ever saw him coming.

  The stupid bitch cop. She proba
bly thought he’d gone back to Vegas. Fuck that. His life was his own now. Well, whatever was left of it was. If he went back now, his former employers would just use him until there was nothing left. He’d been too valuable for them to leave him alone.

  It was time for the next step. He smiled at how beautifully it was all coming together. This step was the most difficult one yet and he had to time it just right. One part of it was aimed directly at where Lora would feel it the most. The other part was a nice little surprise for Trent.

  As anxious as he was, he had to be patient a little bit longer. He wanted them relaxed into a false sense of security before he struck.

  Chapter 30

  It was a typical Sunday night and Nathan would never take moments like this for granted again. The kids were in bed. He could hear the faint sounds of Amy finishing up the dishes in the kitchen. Trent sat next to him on the couch. They each had a cold beer in hand and football was on TV. The Chiefs had the ball and a comfortable lead. A damn near perfect moment.

  Nathan was also happy to see how good his brother looked. He looked like the old Trent. Better, in fact, and he thought he knew the answer. A woman. “How's work?” he asked.

  “Good,” Trent answered with a nod, his eyes still focused on the TV.

  “Seeing anyone?”

  Trent shot his brother a sideways look. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Nathan shrugged, feigning innocence. “I'm just asking.”

  They both watched in silence as the Chiefs' offense methodically marched down the field towards the end zone.

  “I went out with Lora Tatum,” Trent said quietly when the station cut to a commercial break.

  Nathan almost spit out his beer. “Detective Lora Tatum?”

  Trent nodded.

  Nathan raised his eyebrow.