Click

by Anne Conley

  The ride back to her apartment was made in silence again, this one most decidedly uncomfortable. She couldn’t wait to get home, take off this effing bra, and go to bed.

  “You don’t have to walk me up. I’ll be fine.”

  “Miriam.” His voice stopped her movements. She looked at him, and his face was a mask. Unreadable. “I’ve done this wrong. I reacted badly. I wasn’t expecting you to say that is all. I still want to see you again.”

  He was saying all the right things, but with the mask on his face, Miriam wasn’t so sure. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Jake. I had a lot of fun. I’ll see you around.” The words killed her to say, but his reaction was worse. As she flashed him a weak smile and left the truck, he didn’t protest. At all.

  Miriam had the Pierce Securities Christmas party to think about the next couple of days besides her major snafu with Jake. Filled with decorating the office space and cooking for the guys and clients, she managed to keep herself busy. The plan was to have their private Christmas party before the clients showed up for their appreciation bash.

  And staying busy was keeping her mind off her fuck up with Jake. What had she been thinking? How could she not realize her inability to have children would affect any relationship she wanted to have?

  The day of the party, Miriam was at the offices early with Krista, Ryan’s wife, decorating.

  “I miss office parties. I have no idea why.” Krista shook her head and laughed at herself.

  “What on earth for?” Miriam didn’t think there was anything Krista missed about living in the city since she’d gotten together with Ryan. They’d seemed content with his cabin in Dripping Springs.

  “It’s funny watching people who are always so straight-laced and professional let their hair down. I’ve got the best punch recipe just for that purpose.” Her grin was wicked, and Miriam made a mental note to stay away from the punch.

  She pulled a huge bunch of some greenery out of a large shopping bag and started cutting it with scissors and tying little ribbons around the ends.

  “Is that mistletoe?”

  Her only answer was another grin as Krista used a chair to hang the parasitic vegetation in strategic places around the office. It was looking festive, but the mistletoe only served to remind her of that night with Jake. For the fiftieth time, she wondered if he would come.

  Miriam had no idea how many clients would actually show up, wanting to admit they’d needed the security firm’s services. Most of the clients would be people with cheating spouses, although they’d had their share of other things, too—estranged relatives, closed adoption cases, protection details. They’d find out later by how much of the food was eaten.

  Paige came bustling in a short while later, arms full of boxes and bags. She’d insisted on having part of the party catered as an attempt to do her share. She claimed to be awful at decorating, and didn’t really have the time to help with the planning, but she had helped with the food, calling her favorite bakery for some sweet treats to help take the load off Miriam. She appreciated the effort, knowing Paige had enough to do with heading up her software company. In fact, she had no idea how the woman got as much done as she did. She must take a lot of B-Complex vitamins. Her energy was boundless.

  Miriam stayed quiet, working alongside the two women while they chatted, finishing up the decorations and getting the food set out before guests arrived.

  But before the guests came the guys. When they arrived at the appointed time, Miriam tried not to notice Krista and Paige being canoodled by Ryan and Evan while she greeted the remaining members of the firm, Quinten and Simon.

  After they’d gotten their plates piled high with food, the group went into the little-used conference room to open their gifts.

  Miriam was pleased with the thought that went into her gifts. They’d put a price cap on them, insuring most of them were homemade. In spite of that, Miriam considered herself coming out of it with quite a haul: beef jerky and trail mix from Ryan and Krista, a charcoal sketch from Evan and Paige, a beautiful stained-glass hummingbird from Quinten. Simon was the only one who hadn’t played by the rules, spending too much money on the gifts. He’d given her a supersized crockpot with clamping lid, filled with all sorts of kitchen gadgets, and a gift card to Trader Joe’s.

  After the exchange of gifts, she went out to the reception area to straighten the food area after the plundering by the guys and get ready to see how many clients showed up. She tried not to think about whether or not Jake would come. She tried really hard.

  But when they started arriving, she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the doorway. Every time it opened, she thought he might come through, but he never did.

  She watched people mingle from her perch by the food, trying not to eat all the carrots while she kept it straight and everything refilled. Miriam filled punch cups and was glad she’d only had one cup as she watched people get more and more inebriated.

  Quinten strode up to the punch bowl and offered his cup for another refill.

  “Good stuff?” Miriam offered.

  “Liquid courage,” was the reply, a gruff voice and no eye contact. He was nervous about something and Miriam cast her eye around to see who his target was. It was no secret Quinten could have any woman he wanted, but he wanted more than just a woman. He was seeking the whole package. His delight at Ryan’s wedding had been mixed with a tangible sadness everyone had noticed. He was wife-hunting.

  “Good luck,” she said as he stalked off and lurked in a corner, where he drank from the tiny punch cup dwarfed by his massive hands.

  Quinten was a mystery. He did this MMA fighting thing, saying it was a hobby, a way to release stress, and he was good. She’d never seen him fight, but to her knowledge he never lost, and she imagined the frenzy that swept through the crowds at the underground matches he showed up for. But he had an education, too. He had a degree in law that Simon said he’d gotten to please their mother, but when she died, he hadn’t taken the bar exam, so he wasn’t technically a lawyer. But he was good, nonetheless. When she’d had problems with Vince, he’d drawn up iron-clad paperwork to insure she was taken care of and didn’t have to lose anything. In fact, Quinten was one of the only people who knew the entire story of Vince and her. And then there was the stained-glass he’d made. Intricately designed, he put together beautiful, whimsical pieces of art.

  When he’d finished his cup of punch, he looked up at Miriam, and she felt her stomach sink. Oh no. He started walking with purpose toward her, weaving through the small crowd of people crammed into the reception area, until he was at the punch bowl again.

  “Take a break.”

  “Quinten…”

  “Just hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.” He was resolute, and she knew as his friend, she couldn’t refuse him. Besides, as his friend, she needed to put this infatuation aside and tell him there wasn’t a chance for her to be his everything.

  She nodded, and Quinten steered her by the elbow to his office, where he shut the door behind them.

  “I don’t think this—”

  “Just hear me out, okay?” He raked his hand through his hair, making the dark brown curls stand up in a frizzy mess. “I like you, Miriam, and I think we’d make a good pair. I can be good to you in a way your ex wasn’t. I know you. You know me. I’d like to take you out.” He swallowed thickly and Miriam’s heart went out to him. “On a date. As my girlfriend.”

  He pushed her gently against the wall, glancing up briefly. Her eyes followed his. Dammit, Krista. A tiny sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling. “Let’s just try this, okay?”

  Miriam went through her options. She worked with Quinten, and it might make things awkward if she did this. Of course, he’d already let his intentions out, so it would be awkward either way. Searching his eyes, she saw nothing but kindness there, and desire. He wanted her. He knew about the baby, and she’d told him she couldn’t have kids. He was the only man she’d told besides Jake and Vince. And he still
wanted her. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. She could at least try, right?

  Giving a slight nod, he exhaled a relieved breath before rubbing her upper arms and lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed one corner, then brushed his lips over to the other corner, before suckling her upper lip into his mouth. He was warm and tasted of fruity rum punch. She decided to go all in. She wouldn’t know until she tried, right?

  Her hands went to his broad chest and gripped his shirt as she pulled him closer. His mouth opened and his tongue ran along the seam of her lips before she finally acquiesced and let him in.

  Their tongues tasted each other, explored, and Miriam had to acknowledge he was a good kisser. For someone that was like her brother.

  When he broke away, Quinten watched her carefully, his eyes tracking back and forth between hers.

  Finally, after a moment of silence that stretched on for an eternity, he broke it. “That didn’t do anything for you, did it?”

  She saw the hurt and resignation in his eyes, but didn’t know how to be anything but honest. “Not that it wasn’t a nice kiss, but no, I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head.

  “It’s okay. I had to give it a shot.” He stepped back, shrugging. “Sorry I bothered you.”

  “We’ll find the one if we’re meant to.” She tried to sound encouraging for Quinten’s sake, but she heard the defeat in her own voice. Jake wasn’t far from her thoughts, even as she kissed Quinten.

  “What happened with Calahan?” Quinten asked quietly as he sat on the edge of his desk.

  “Nothing.” She didn’t want to tell Quinten the truth—that they’d had sex and he’d reacted badly to her declaration of barrenness. “We just want different things, that’s all.”

  “I had high hopes it wouldn’t work out.” He laughed ruefully, and Miriam tried to relax against the wall. Since he’d put some space between them she felt better, but this was still a really awkward situation. “Now, I sort of wish it would.” He swiped his hand through his hair again. “Shit, I’m such a pussy sometimes. I want everybody to get hearts and flowers and ponies. Fuck!” He grumbled, and Miriam smiled in spite of herself.

  Walking over to attempt to tame his hair, she smoothed it as she spoke. “We have to get back to the party or people are going to think we’re starting something we’re not.” His eyes tracked her movements. “Are we okay? Still friends?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get over it.”

  “Good, because you’re one of my best friends, Quinten.” Miriam looked him deep in the eyes and saw pain there, but it accompanied relief, and that made her laugh. “We can’t date, you know that, right?” God, the complications. She’d get pissed about all his alpha protective tendencies and they’d break up, and then things would really get awkward.

  He nodded, they hugged, and then returned to the party. It was winding down, but Miriam was totally out of steam. Finding Krista tangled on Evan’s lap in a chair under the mistletoe, she explained herself.

  “I have a bit of a headache. Would you mind putting the food away? I’m going home. I’ll come back and clean up in the morning.”

  Krista jumped up. “Don’t worry about it. Paige and I can get the boys to help us. We’ll get this taken care of. You’ve done so much.”

  “Yeah,” Evan agreed. “You go home. We got this.”

  Relieved to not have to watch Quinten with his hurt feelings all night, she went home, thoughts of curling up in her bed taking over.

  Jake had been sitting in the outdoor chair outside her apartment for three hours. He couldn’t stop thinking he’d royally fucked up the other night. They’d had so much fun until suddenly… they hadn’t. He’d been the one to flip the switch, not her, and he couldn’t blame her one bit.

  Miriam hadn’t just given him badly needed sex. They’d made love. And even though it hadn’t been exactly how he’d imagined it, sometimes those were the best things, right? He sensed, too late, that it hadn’t just been about the sex for her. It hadn’t even just been about making love.

  She’d given him something she’d probably never given anybody else. Miriam had given herself in that act. And he’d taken it. He’d taken a piece of her when he made love to her, and she’d willingly given it to him. The precious gift of all of her, in that moment of weakness he was sure she didn’t offer to everybody.

  And he’d stomped all over it with his insensitivity.

  Jake didn’t know Miriam that well. He’d told her all about Abby and Joe, but there was so much more to tell. He wanted to tell her more about Drew and his photography. But more importantly, he wanted to know about her. She had shadows in her eyes, a darkness that spoke of painful secrets. He wanted to know those secrets, not to take advantage of them. He wanted to know Miriam.

  But like an ass, he’d only talked about his problems, not about his joys, and he couldn’t remember ever asking her about herself. Classic asshole move right there.

  And the one piece of information she’d offered, he’d crumbled up like a ball of paper and thrown it away, along with any hope of something real with her.

  He was here at her apartment to change that. Jake just needed her to show up.

  Last week, when he’d gotten shit-faced in his apartment, he’d gone online and named a star after her. It was totally corny, but he’d bought the deluxe package deal and hadn’t remembered until it came in the mail today, like a sign of his drunken asshatness.

  It came with a framed certificate and a Swarovski crystal star, which apparently he’d paid extra for. Totally worth it. He had everything with him—a sort of early Christmas present—and the hopes of inviting her to his family’s house for Christmas dinner. He was positive Joe wouldn’t show up.

  Christmas.

  Christmas Party.

  Shit.

  Belatedly remembering her company’s Christmas party at the security firm, Jake realized where she was. He was missing her because she was at the party. He raced down the stairs to try to catch her there.

  Miriam couldn’t wait to get to her bed. The last few days were really taking their toll on her body. Forgetting about Jake was harder than it seemed.

  She plodded up the stairs to her apartment, each step closer to her bed an accomplishment. She’d forgone her fake boobs tonight in an effort to own herself and her body. The constant attempt to become other people’s ideal, physically, was wearing on her and now the Calahan job was done and Jake was out of the picture, she really didn’t have a reason to have boobs.

  She gave out a sigh of exhaustion just as her key fitted into the lock and she twisted it.

  That’s when her night took a change for the worse.

  A body from behind pushed her into her apartment, and something hit the back of her head, hard. She fell to the floor at the same time her apartment door slammed shut. When she rolled over, she found two men in her apartment, cholos, marked with tattoos. The Mexican flag on one guy’s neck and the TL in the old English font on the other’s arm told her all she needed to know.

  Tres Lobos. She was going to die tonight.

  “Joe pissed off el Depredador, and we’re here to give him a message,” one of the men snarled at her in a heavy accent. “One dead girlfriend…” he leered.

  She weakly protested, knowing it was futile. “I’m not with Joe. It’s a mistake. I-I’m with his brother.” Well, she wasn’t with with him, but the words tumbled out of her mouth, anyway.

  The other guy nudged the man speaking in the side. “Me gustan las pelirrojas,” the man said with a look in his eyes that terrified Miriam.

  She didn’t speak Spanish fluently, but nearly every Texan took a little Spanish in high school, and Miriam knew enough to know he had commented on her hair. His body language said the rest.

  “Go for it, man.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The first guy raised his baseball bat while the second shoved a gun in her face.

  Everything she’d ever heard about Tres Lobos came racing through her head. An up and coming gang
that rivaled the Mexican Mafia in their cruelty, they were experts at torturing people for information, knowing exactly how to draw out excruciating pain. They boiled people. For some reason, that was the one thing she remembered above all others, not having a clue at all whether it was true or not.

  Miriam realized she needed to get this over with, give in to whatever they wanted, and maybe they would go easy on her.

  “Just make it quick, please,” she practically begged as she pulled her sweater over her head. They stiffened, readying for a fight, but when she lowered the sweater, exposing her scars, their fierce tension sagged.

  “Mierda,” Baseball Bat muttered under his breath before stopping his cohort from advancing on her. The companion gang member muttered something, and they had a quick conversation in Spanish before turning to her.

  “Mi Madre died from cancer. I see you’re a survivor. We’ll go easy. Only pain. No death. Lo siento.”

  So he brought out a knife instead, flicking it open with resignation. Miriam could tell he didn’t want to do this but was going to anyway. She screamed before something was shoved into her mouth.

  Jake drove to the Pierce Securities building anticipating a crowd, but when he got there the party was obviously winding down. Looking at his watch, he found it was later than he realized. He searched the room, looking for Miriam, but finding only Simon straightening chairs, Ryan folding up tables, and the big guy, Quinten, standing on a ladder taking down mistletoe. There were a couple of women packing up food into plastic containers. They all stopped and looked at him when he walked in the door, making him uncomfortable with their stares.

  “Is Miriam here?” He didn’t see her, but for all he knew, she was in another room doing something else.

  Ryan answered him while Quinten looked like he was about to launch himself at Jake. He took an uneasy step back. “She left about a half hour ago, said she had a headache.”

  Simon was looking at him curiously but didn’t say anything while the look on Quinten’s face said he was thirty seconds away from murdering him. Did she say something to them? Did they know what a jerk he’d been? He couldn’t think about that. He had to talk to her first.