by Low, Gennita
All three of them went off again. Nick grinned, not minding being the butt of their jokes. It’d been a long time since he was made fun of that way, not since his days training with the army Rangers. Besides, he liked listening to Jaymee’s laugh. She didn’t do it enough.
“Nick is smart, man, he can name a perfume for a woman,” Dicker said, when they stopped for breath. “Unlike Luck-man’s Possession.”
“Sure he can,” agreed Lucky, his gap-toothed smile cheeky. “Remember he knows them big words that got Up-Chuck all flustered.”
“Now that’s what I would name my perfume for my old lady,” cracked Dicker. “All-Flustered. Perfect. What would you name your perfume, Langley?”
Jaymee chewed on her lower lip while the other two men turned expectant eyes at Nick. She knew it hadn’t escaped their notice Nick was wearing her tee-shirt that morning. She didn’t care whether there would be gossip. Enough with living with the fear people would continually bring up Danny. She’d never felt so alive, so comfortable. Looking at the tall man who had changed her outlook so much, she couldn’t even remember much about her old feelings for Danny.
There was simply no comparison.
She was also glad he was getting along with her workers. Dicker and Lucky now included him in their daily chats, and she liked the way Nick mixed with them so easily. Right now, his eyes were half-closed as he considered Dicker’s question about naming, of all things, a perfume. It struck her he just wasn’t the type of man who would sit around a bunch of guys playing name games. Again she had the odd feeling he was hiding something.
“I don’t know. You guys have chosen all the good ones,” he joked. Leaning over, he picked up Jaymee’s cola and finished it off. She stared at him in fascination. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he continued, “I supposed Smartass is out of the question? Or, Scary Screamer? Or Maniac?”
The other men chuckled, as if sharing some in-joke. Jaymee rolled her eyes, then stuck her tongue out at Nick. She would bide her time to punish smart-mouthiness. She was the boss, after all.
*
“Don’t feel so smart now, do you, Mr. Big Words?” Jaymee mocked Nick later that day. She’d left Dicker and Lucky at the job, taking him with her to fix the leak in the tile roof. At the moment, she stood with perfect balance, each foot planted on a ceramic tile, hands on her hips. She looked smugly at Nick, feeling slightly avenged for the knowing chuckles her men had given when he named his perfume. Tease her, would he? Well, let’s see how he felt being at the other end.
Nick concentrated on first making sure he didn’t slip. The ceramic tiles weren’t slippery, but because of their inverted ‘S’ shape, his big feet couldn’t fit on the dented part of the tile, like Jaymee’s did, and so he had to put his weight awkwardly on the rounded curve.
Crrrunch.
A crack line appeared under his foot. Wincing, he put his other foot down. Another crunching sound.
Normally, Jaymee would have given any employee the proper tongue-lashing, but the sight of the big man gingerly trying to walk toward her was almost worth the money she was going to lose, at the rate he was breaking the tiles. She just stood there, a big grin on her face.
“I’m going to take all the damage out of your paycheck tonight, if you don’t stop breaking them,” she warned sternly, but her mischievous smile gave her away.
“It’s like walking on eggs,” muttered Nick, when he reached her.
“You’re lucky I had you pick up those extra tiles this afternoon, or we’d have some missing pieces, what with those big feet of yours!”
Nick grinned. “OK, so I made it up here. Now what?”
Jaymee cocked her head. “Ever made love on a ceramic tile roof before?”
He groaned. “No, and I’m not going to start now.” He watched Jaymee turn around and nimbly walk up a few rows higher. Her butt was at eye level. He groaned again. “OK, we’ll do it.”
“Not if you can’t catch me,” she teased, squatting down and loosening one of the tiles. She pulled a few out of the way, and said, “Here, you can stand more comfortably on the fern strips below the tiles.”
Nick did as she suggested.
Jaymee pointed to the material exposed by the tiles. “That is called base sheet, and it’s thicker than felt paper. It’s meant to protect the roof, in case water gets under the tile.”
“Obviously, it doesn’t work, because the roof is leaking,” observed Nick.
“Usually it’s because there is a hole somewhere the previous roofer didn’t patch up, or they didn’t use base sheet, opting for lower grade material instead, and it rotted away because of the water. Sometimes they didn’t layer it properly.” She tapped on a water stain where she had taken out a tile. “There, see? That’s a clue, dear Mr. Watson.”
“How does water get under the tile, Sherlock?” Nick asked, squatting carefully down beside her.
Jaymee shrugged. “Cracked tiles, holes in the lead boot, could be a number of things. That’s why this ‘underlayment’ is very important. Finding leaks on tile roofs can be tricky, since water stains showing on the ceiling inside the house don’t usually match the spot on the roof. That’s because water moves differently when it travels under the tiles, like underground caverns, you know?”
“And these fern strips act like diverters, shooting the water in different directions, right?” Nick traced the water stain pattern above the little strips of wood that supported the tiles.
“Right. So, we have to follow this water stain, take off the tiles as we go, and tada!” Jaymee gestured dramatically.
“The leak!” Nick finished for her.
“Elementary, my dear Watson!”
By the time they were done, it was almost six o’clock. Nick enjoyed the new lesson. Searching for leaks on roofs wasn’t that different from the other kind of leaks he specialized in, he supposed. Look for the source and eliminate. In a general perspective, life in the outside world could be just as exciting. Then he remembered what was left of his beloved boat. And not so dangerous.
“So when can I add ‘leak expert’ as part of my construction man resume?” he quipped, as he loaded the truck with broken tiles.
Jaymee couldn’t resist it. Putting on her best Chinese accent, she parodied a line from a famous TV show. “When you can walk on tile and leave no crack, my son, then you are leak expert. Until then, I am still master.”
Nick grinned as he watched her throw her head back and laughed. She was getting feistier by the day. And suddenly, he wanted her again. She stopped in mid-laugh.
“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, his voice low and full of dark promise. “Then I’ll show you who your master is, little Red Grasshopper.”
Jaymee made a face at him. By now she’d learned to recognize that blatant male look. “What bad puns you have, Mr. Wolf.”
For the first time in eight years, she couldn’t wait to get home. After paying Dicker and Lucky, they prepared a simple meal together. Dinner was the way Jaymee had always imagined romance to be — on the back porch, with the view of the setting sun and the shadows and golden lights of the lake in the distance, and her lover feeding her cold meat and wine. They kissed and joked, drawing out the evening into night.
“Tomorrow, I’ll help you with the old house,” Nick said, lazily twirling her curls with his forefinger. The sunset was bright, making her hair a fiery halo. He remembered it against him, the way it caressed down his chest when she trailed kisses down his body. He shifted position.
Jaymee snuggled deeper into his lap. “You’re a hungry monster,” she murmured, absolutely aware of his discomfort.
“Wolf,” he corrected. “Let’s get to bed, so we can have your head start tomorrow.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you want to just rest, so we can work on the remodeling,” she mocked.
“Of course. You don’t have to do a thing, just lie there,” he promised, and gently nudged her off his lap.
They were making their way to
the old house, kissing and teasing each other, when Nick suddenly pulled her to a stop. He looked around sharply, his eyes alert. Puzzled, Jaymee followed his eyes, but there was nothing but trees and shadows.
“What is it?”
“Shhh.” Nick hadn’t been able to shake off that ‘being watched’ feeling for a few days now. This time, he was sure. Putting Jaymee behind his body, he carefully looked for signs.
Jaymee stared at the appearance of a knife in Nick’s hand. A huge, ugly thing, with serrated edges. A Bowie knife. Where had he hidden that thing?
A voice suddenly came out from among the shadows — disembodied, hushed, deadly. It made her blood run cold. “I was beginning to wonder whether you’d lost all your training.”
Jaymee gasped, looking around. She couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a swishing noise, and something streaked past. Nick cursed and grabbed his arm. She turned and gaped in horror.
It was the strangest feeling, as if she were watching everything from far away. But this was real; she knew it was unbelievably real. That was real blood oozing out between Nick’s fingers where he was clutching his bicep.
Chapter Nine
The evening sun was spotty among the trees and bushes, making it impossible to discern between shadows and shapes. Jaymee looked around, trying to calm her overworking imagination. Right now, even the trees looked gothic and menacing.
She glanced back Nick, who had instinctively pulled her closer. He wasn’t paying attention to her right now, his gaze darting around and searching for their unseen assailant. The deadly expression on his face made her catch her breath.
There was a whooshing sound from her left, and he immediately pulled her out of the way. The thing, whatever it was, flew by her at tremendous speed, so close she felt the little breeze it made. She was too shocked to make a sound.
“Better,” the disembodied voice continued, dark and sinister in the stillness. “I think I’ll go for the jugular next.”
“Come out, damn it!” Nick challenged.
Jaymee could only stare in muted horror as a shadow jumped in front of him and started attacking. Nick pushed her from him with one hand while his other blocked a chop. She watched with disbelief as the two men fought, both strangely silent through their exertions. They moved in some kind of stylized exercise, although the grunts of pain when their punches and kicks connected told her the fight was quite real. Their assailant had his back to her. He wasn’t as tall as Nick, but was obviously as strong and capable, as he countered Nick’s blows with swift retaliation. She found herself gripping her throat in horror when one of his kicks connected and Nick cursed, grabbing at his wound, before he ducked low. The Bowie knife fell on the ground.
There must be something she could do! Wildly searching the ground around her, she picked up a sturdy looking branch. Without further thinking, she charged at the stranger with the branch high and aimed at his head. Either she missed, or he moved, she didn’t know—she had her eyes closed—and the momentum of her forceful blow brought her right in the middle of the action and she landed on her knees. Frightened out of her mind, she hurled the branch in her hand at the attacker, then whatever she could grab—rocks, twigs, dirt, whatever. Someone’s arm encircled hers to her body and lifted her off her feet. Screaming, she kicked out in panic, trying to escape, her loosened hair flying around her shaking head like a whip.
“Stop it! Damn it, Jaymee! Stop!”
It took a few frenzied minutes before it sunk in it was Nick who had imprisoned her in his arms, and that the attacker was standing in front of them. He just stood there, watching, his hands relaxed by his sides. Jaymee ceased her struggles and stared back, her breath coming out in short gasps.
“Damn it,” Nick said in a low voice, “what the hell did you do that for? You could have met with me later.”
It took a second or two before Jaymee registered he wasn’t talking to her, but to the stranger. She went limp with astonishment. He knew their attacker? Why, then, did this man try to hurt him?
“How?” asked the stranger. He was very soft-spoken, as if he seldom raised his voice. There was a hint of mockery in it now. “I didn’t know you’d grown a Siamese twin for company. It’s been almost three days, and I still haven’t seen you actually alone yet.”
Nick gently put Jaymee on her feet. Turning her around, he studied her dirt-streaked face, making sure she was unharmed. He lifted a few curls plastered against her cheek. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
She nodded, still trying to grasp what was happening. “Your arm! He…he shot you or something!”
Rage filled her at the thought of his being injured, and she was about to whirl around to confront the enemy again when Nick gathered her into his arms. He looked down at her tenderly, a small smile forming on his lips.
“It’s OK,” he assured her, reading her mind, knowing her fiery temper by now. “He didn’t really hurt me. He was playing around.”
Jaymee looked up and followed his gaze as he looked over her head at the other man, who lifted an insolent brow in answer. She frowned, more than a little confused.
“Playing around?” She touched Nick’s injured arm, checking the wound that had stopped bleeding. There was a vertical slice across the flesh, but it didn’t look very deep. “This is playing around?”
Her voice was slightly higher than usual. She showed him the blood on her fingers.
Nick sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Jaymee...” he began.
But Jaymee wasn’t in the mood to be placated. She turned around to face this man who was “playing around.” The first thing that caught her attention was his strange eyes, set off by the tanned face. They were very light, the color of chipped ice, as they glittered out of his face. Her mouth gaped as realization dawned.
“Why, you’re related!”
He had Nick’s eyes, the same shape, down to the long eyelashes, although there was no blue in them as he returned her stare with the same familiar watchfulness Nick had. The deadly coldness in them made her shiver, in spite of the humidity of the evening. Wolf eyes. And this one was a killer wolf. He was shorter, but had the same slanted shoulders, the same whipcord leanness. His face was rugged, with chiseled features. She realized he looked so menacing because there was simply no expression on his hard face. But those eyes. And those long, long lashes.
Nick stroked her tensed back. “Yes, this is my cousin, Jed.”
The man didn’t attempt to shake her hand or acknowledge her in any way. Instead, he turned his attention back to Nick.
“I got tired of waiting. After checking her out, I calculated no risk in exposing myself when she’s with you.”
“You didn’t answer my message. I couldn’t know for sure whether you’d reach me so soon,” Nick explained.
Jed nodded. “Too dangerous. I need to talk to you face-to-face.” The corner of his lips lifted in a mere trace of mockery. “I’m sorry to have to interrupt your plans. I’ll try to make this quick.”
Nick squeezed Jaymee’s shoulder lightly, then walked over to his cousin. She continued staring, absorbing the meaning of “checked her out” and “too dangerous.” She watched the two men lock arms in salute.
“Long time, cousin. Hoo-yah, Airborne.”
“Hoo-yah. All-the-way,” Jed greeted back softly. “We thought you didn’t jump out of the boat in time.”
Nick shrugged. “It was close.” He stepped back, then moved toward a clump of trees. “Were you standing here when you tried to scare me, you son of a bitch?”
“No, I was at six-o’clock.”
He frowned. “Funny, I thought I saw a shadow here first.” A wry smile suddenly curved his lips, and he gave a loud sigh. He called out, loud and mocking, “If I find worms in my hair this time, I’m going to turn you over my knee!”
The rustling of leaves above Nick caught Jaymee’s attention, and her eyes widened even more when someone popped out from the low branches, hanging upside-down. A woma
n—she noted, growing ever more amazed—because of the two pigtails hanging down.
“So if they’re spiders, I’m OK, right, Cousin Kill?”
Not a woman, Jaymee realized, but a teenager. With green hair.
Nick reached up and tugged at the green pigtails. The owner deliberately tumbled down and he caught her in his arms without missing a step. “You’ve grown, little trouble,” he said to the bundle he held.
“Little Trouble” wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck and gave him an affectionate smack on the lips. Jaymee felt a tug of jealousy. “Not so little. I’m a grown woman, Kill!”
“One with green hair. How interesting,” drawled Nick. He set her down and looked at Jaymee again, his arm around the younger girls’ shoulders. He gave her a searching look, but couldn’t gauge her mood. “This is my second cousin, Jaymee.”
“Little Trouble,” chirped the girl with an impish grin, giving a small wave.
Jaymee liked her immediately. She had an engaging smile and the face of a doll.
“Grace,” Nick said, pulling a pigtail. “Her hair is usually a very normal brown.”
Grace, Jaymee assumed, must be Jed’s child, although with her green hair and dark brown eyes, she didn’t share any family resemblance to the two men. She was actually very exotic looking. She must also have a foreign mother, judging from the almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. She was about her height, with a slim body, a lively face, and especially bold eyes.
“Hello,” she greeted back.
“Sorry we startled you, Miss Barrows. Jed didn’t mean it, honest.”
Jed? She called her father Jed? This was giving Jaymee a headache. And how did this girl know her name? With a helpless shrug, she glanced back at Nick. He was studying her, that watchful look back in his slate-gray eyes. With his dirty tee-shirt, his black hair dampened by sweat, and dried blood staining his arm, he looked intimidating. Letting go of Grace, he walked back toward her.
His voice was soft and persuasive. “Look, I know you’re confused and have questions, but I can’t talk now. I need to have a private chat with Jed. Why don’t you run back home first and clean up? I’ll join you later.”
