by Mary Calmes
When I saw Jimmy’s eyes scan the room, I waved from where I was in the kitchen. It took him a minute to realize whom he was looking at. I was out of place, so his brain had to wrap around it, make sense of things, and take inventory before he spoke.
“Nate?” he said after a few minutes.
“Detective.” I smiled, playing it cool, not wanting to assume we were still friendly after so long.
He came forward fast but stopped himself before he took the fateful last step to hug me hello.
I smiled.
He just stared.
It was awkward.
“Detective O’Meara,” I heard Detective Lassiter ask, “you know Dr. Qells?”
A heartbeat of time passed.
“Oh shit.” Jimmy caught his breath, suddenly grabbing hold of my shoulder tight, his eyes locked on mine. “Oh God, Nate.”
He sounded so startled, having jerked like he was electrocuted. “What’s the matter?”
“Nate Qells.”
“Yeah, that’s my name,” I agreed.
His pale-blue eyes absorbed my face, and I realized how tired he looked. He was not a classically handsome man, but with the deep laugh lines, his crooked, lazy smile, and his curling dark-brown hair, he was so adorable that you just wanted to take him home and cook for him. And lots of women wanted to. And lots of women hit on him until they saw his wife. No one messed with Lisa O’Meara. For one, she was gorgeous, all long, brown hair and huge brown eyes, and for another, she was damn scary. She liked to explain that since she was Sicilian, she would cut you as soon as look at you. I had always rolled my eyes. She had pinched my cheek in return. Thinking about her made me smile. I had enjoyed getting to know her and spending time with her.
“Oh fuck me,” he groaned, letting his head fall forward.
I snorted out a laugh.
“What’s wrong, Detective?”
He let me go before lacing his fingers on the top of his head as he looked at the two younger policemen. “This is Nate Qells, and he’s a really good friend of Detective Stiel.”
Both heads swiveled to me.
“Oh shit.” Detective Lee actually trembled. “Oh fuck me.”
“Oh God,” Detective Haddock groaned, seconding his partner’s reaction. “Sir, your friend, Detective Stiel… he hates me.”
“I very much doubt that. He can just be a little intense at times,” I explained.
The look I got made me smile wide.
“You don’t understand.”
They were all standing in my living room because someone, supposedly a contract killer, had tried to kill me and only failed because he’d taken a header off my fire escape. But all that was secondary to the fear that my ex was inspiring in three grown men.
Detective Haddock was possibly going to be sick, Detective Lee as well. Jimmy was massaging the bridge of his nose, groaning. And I got it. Families and friends of policemen in the line of fire were scary for everyone but worse for these guys because of Duncan. My ex-boyfriend was frightening, and there was no nice way to put it. No one wanted to be on his bad side, and now here was Jimmy explaining to the two detectives that Duncan and I were close. They were trying not to pee themselves, and they had been so macho with me. I was trying really hard not to smile.
“I have an idea,” I suggested brightly, all three men turning to look at me. “How about we just don’t tell him about any of this.”
No one made a sound.
“It would be for the best, wouldn’t it?”
Jimmy wanted to. I could tell from the tilt of his head, the way he had his eyes all scrunched up, the soft noise that told me he was trying to work it out, rationalize what could be said if he was ever caught.
“I think it’s a phenomenal idea,” Detective Haddock chimed in. “There’s no reason he would be looking into our cases anyway since he’s in major crimes now.”
I looked at Jimmy. “Duncan moved to major crimes? Why?”
He nodded, forced a smile. “He, um—” He cleared his throat.
“—can’t do homicide if… you know…. It’s just not that easy if you don’t have… anyway, he can’t do homicide anymore.”
“Okay.” I had no idea what was going on there, but since it was really none of my business, I let it go.
“So, hey.” He brightened. “My daughter Joanna is moving home from Sydney, and we’re having a party for her on Sat—”
“Oh good for you, Jimmy,” I cut him off but smiled as I did it. “I know her being so far away has been killing you.”
He swallowed hard. “It has, but now it’s—it’s okay. But we’re having a coming home party for her, and we’d love it if you came by.”
“Well, I have a funeral to go to, so unfortunately, I’m going to have to decline, but thank you for the invitation.”
“A funeral.” His brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. Who passed, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Friend of mine, his boss and some friends. You guys probably heard about it. Vincent Romelli and some of the men who worked for him. I’m friends with Andreo Fiore.”
Beats of time—it was almost like I felt them tick off between us.
“Andreo Fiore…. We knew he lived in this building, but… you know him?”
“Yeah, I know him and his nephew. They were both over here last night, which makes this whole thing, some guy on my fire escape, a little creepier, doesn’t it?”
“It does something.” Jimmy nodded, back to rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Uhm—so are we agreed, then?” Detective Haddock interrupted softly. “We’re not gonna tell Detective Stiel about this, right?”
He got a resounding no as my front door opened and an officer leaned in.
“We’ve got a kid out here that wants to come in. Yes or no?”
Jimmy gave him a wave. A second later Michael Fiore tumbled back into my apartment, dressed, backpack slung over his shoulder, and looking terrified.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Come here.”
He was white as a sheet, and I thought maybe I understood. Policemen had probably come to tell him when his mother had died in her car accident.
When he reached me, he took hold of the hem of my T-shirt and looked into my face.
“I’m fine.” I gave his cheek a pat. “And I will feed you. Put the bag down and get out the eggs.”
He nodded, dumped the backpack on the counter, and started moving around in my kitchen loudly.
“I have to start cooking, if that’s okay?”
“Sure, sure,” Jimmy told me, offering me his hand. “We’ve got all we need. The crime scene guys’ll be out of here soon as they can, okay? The officers are just here ’cause they gotta be as long as the CSI guys are, but… we’re done.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, accepting the camaraderie for what it was, old time’s sake, fingers gripping tight as we shook. “It was nice to see you, Detec—”
“Jimmy,” he corrected, shaking my hand hard. “And it was great to see you too, Nate. I just wish the circumstances were the right ones.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“He looked good.” Jimmy coughed softly. “When you two were hangin’ out.”
Meaning Duncan, of course—Duncan had looked good. It was a really nice thing for him to say.
He dropped my hand then and turned and yelled, and everyone stated moving around me fast, a swirl of activity. The other two detectives said they would be in touch and let me know about any new developments the second they learned about any. I thanked them for the weirdest morning in a very long time and then pulled my omelet pan from the others hanging on the rack above the island in my kitchen. People started running back and forth, trying, I was sure, to wrap up and get out of my house.
“I’ll pour you some coffee and you can tell me what the hell is going on,” Michael told me.
The coffee was the best idea he ever had.
&
nbsp; AT WORK, I ran my classes through test reviews and collected papers and heard excuses. I told Ashton what I thought of his novel thus far—I was enjoying it, so it was easy to give good feedback—and told him where I thought some of the plot holes were.
“Plot holes.” He was indignant.
“Don’t fall in love with your own words or you’ll never be able to change them,” I cautioned him.
“Yes, but, plot holes?”
I bumped him with my shoulder on the way out of my office.
In my intro classes, we were doing oral reports, and I listened and asked questions and made sure the kids were looking at me instead of the vastness of the room with its stadium seating and a sea of faces. When I was smiling at them and nodding, nerves seemed to settle.
When I had my office hours, I was surprised to see Sanderson Vaughn walk into my office, dressed as always like something out of a Harlequin romance novel, the very ideal of what English professors looked like. Corduroy elbow patches on the tweed sports coat, jeans, loafers, tie, and a blue button-down oxford. Before he could say a word, I put up my hand.
“What?”
I motioned at him. “Tweed?”
He flipped me off.
“Just come on, Sandy,” I teased. “Update the damn wardrobe. This is 2012, for crissakes.”
“Just cut the crap, Nate. What did you say to—”
“I didn’t say anything to anybody, and if you knew me at all, you’d know that.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that the one year that you don’t get to put on the Medieval Feast just so happens to be the same year that Greg Butler decides he wants to give money to the college?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Are you kidding?”
“This is actually what you think of me?” I said to him. “That I would, what, call a rich alumnus and hit him up for cash for the school just to make you look bad? Really?”
“What am I supposed to think, Nate?”
“You’re supposed to think how lucky you are that—”
The door flying open and banging against the wall made us both gasp, killing all conversation in the room instantly.
“Jesus!” Sanderson yelled as I realized who I was looking at.
“What are you doing here?”
“What the hell?” Sanderson yelled at Duncan Stiel.
“I need the room,” he growled at my colleague, his voice low and hard and menacing.
Sanderson moved fast, asking no questions, telling me without any power behind the threat at all that we were not done discussing my obvious attempt to embarrass him. Like I had that kind of time or inclination. Just the idea was ludicrous.
He was annoying, but so was my ex as he slammed the door behind him and whirled around, hands gripping my desk as he stared me down with his dark-gray eyes. Once upon a time, I had found the overcast color romantic, stunning. Now they were just cold.
“Yes, Detective?”
“Don’t fuckin’ ‘yes, Detective’ me,” he growled, all snarling alpha dog. “What the fuck is going on with you and Vincent Romelli?”
My eyes flicked to the clock, seeing that my office hours were actually done, and so I stood up and started packing my messenger bag, beginning with my laptop.
“Nate!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls in the small space. He straightened up, moving like he was going to come around my desk.
“Don’t,” I said irritably. “You know, Duncan, this is bullshit. You don’t get to ask me questions about my personal life anymore.”
“This is not your fucking personal life we’re talking about! This is Andreo Fiore and a murdered mob boss and a dead fuckin’ hit man in your dumpster!”
I took a breath. “For the record, I never met Vincent Romelli, never saw the deceased hit man, and Andreo Fiore and I are friends and neighbors, and that’s it.”
“Goddammit, Nate, you—”
“I would not have known Vincent Romelli had I passed him on the street. Like I said, I know Andreo Fiore and I know he worked for Romelli, but that’s it. As far as the dead man goes, I’m sure you know more about him than I do.”
He was breathing through his nose as he studied me, crossing his arms over the broad chest that I knew from firsthand experience was covered in hard, thickly carved muscle. Really, without his clothes on, Duncan Stiel was a work of art; it was too bad that I was being reminded of what I could no longer have.
“So if this is done, I have a faculty meeting to get to and a date later, so… you know the way out.”
“Nate—”
“Just don’t worry about it.” I sighed as I put the strap over my shoulder and walked around my desk to face him. “I’m fine.”
“No, you look like somebody hit you.”
I groaned.
“Nate!”
And when he yelled, it felt… normal. I had thought that the first time I talked to the man after our breakup, I would be sad or filled with regret. But I was neither. I was nothing. I was completely over Duncan Stiel.
“I’m fine,” I soothed him. “I saved a lady from getting mugged the other day.” I grinned, opening the door and gesturing him out. “And the next night, I saved my second-favorite kid from getting hit by an enraged father.”
He looked at me like I had just fallen out of the crazy tree, but he moved at my bidding, and as he walked out into the hall, I locked the door behind him. When I turned to face him, he was still scowling.
“All this that you’re doing,” I told him, “is so unnecessary. Jimmy’s got me covered. He’ll figure out who the guy was actually there to kill, because we both know it wasn’t me. Who would want to kill me? That makes no sense.”
“You should be scared.”
“Of what? Clumsy hit men?” I raised an eyebrow in question.
He was lost or confused or both.
“Come on, Duncan, think about it. I’m not in any danger, not really.”
He was just staring at me.
“So, major crimes, huh?” I shoved my hands down in my pockets. “Jimmy told me. I thought you loved homicide.”
“What?”
“Wait, that sounded weird.” I thought about it a minute, grinning over my poor choice of words. I was supposed to be good with them.
“Nate.”
I looked up into his eyes and waited.
“You need protection.”
I shook my head. “No, there’s some kind of mistake. I refuse to believe that anyone wants to hurt me. I’m sure Jimmy will figure it out—he’s a smart guy.”
“Nate—”
“Might be the company I keep,” I said thoughtfully, really, finally, running the whole scenario over in my head, worried about the timing. Andreo had been at my house, sleeping in my bed, which was closest to the fire escape. It made way more sense that he would be a target instead of me. “Shit, I have to go,” I said suddenly, turning away from him, needing to find Dreo.
“I need to talk to you.” He stopped me, grabbing my bicep, holding tight, fingers digging into my arm.
“About what?” I asked impatiently, trying not to sound annoyed, because it was rude, and once upon a time, he had meant the world to me.
He took a step forward, crowding me but releasing me at the same time. “I just want you to know that I—I never… I never wanted to go. I miss the fuck out of you.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
I was surprised. “But you left so easily.”
“What was I supposed to do, Nate? You wanted something I couldn’t give you—still can’t. It was either my job or you, and the job is who I am.”
“I know that.”
“But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”
I took a breath. “I know that too.”
“And you?”
“I think we’re both well aware of what my feelings were.”
He cleared his throat. “Were?”
Honesty, right there in the hallway. Mayb
e it was fitting. “Yeah. It’s been over a long time, right? Me and you?”
I got a quick nod of his head.
“So we’re both good.”
“I,” he said, closing back in on me, this time gently taking hold of my elbow, “really miss… you, us. There’s been no one who’s meant anything since I walked out of your apartment that day.”
It was painful to hear but so completely unchangeable. He was in the closet; I had found out the hard way that I could not live my life like that. When we had been together, which, honestly, we never should have been, I hadn’t liked myself. I was not the kind of man who hid his feelings or his relationships. That had never been me. I was the guy who draped an arm around a shoulder in public, introduced my man to an acquaintance if I passed one on the street, and definitely brought them to any work function I happened to have because I was happy and proud and excited. I had not been allowed to be any of those things with Duncan, and so the relationship had been doomed to fail from the start. In hindsight it was a ridiculous situation, but at the time, my feelings had drowned my logic. I had not been me for two years, and when it was over, when I knew it was truly done, losing Duncan had been hard, but I got myself back. I got to be me again. And really, truly, the trade-off had been a good one.
“Nate.”
“Sorry.” I smiled automatically. “I was just thinking about ancient history.”
“I was worried.” He sucked in a breath. “That’s why I came. More than worried, actually, more like terrified. The idea that you could be in trouble or—”
“But I’m not,” I assured him, taking a breath, easing free of his tentative hold. “I’m fine. Like I told you, I didn’t know Romelli, and Andreo Fiore, for whatever reputation he has, is a good man who loves his nephew. So,” I said with a sigh, “thanks for coming; it was actually great to see you. Clearing the air and closure, always appreciated.”
