The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  A sigh, then she rested both hands on her desk. “I don’t know what to do, Ivy.”

  I rubbed her back. “What did he do?”

  She flipped her head toward me. “I’m hoping no one.”

  I was sure I looked confused. I certainly felt it. Then the comments started connecting. “Are you thinking he’s…you know, with another…?” I didn’t want to come right out and say it. Uttering those words was like jinxing a pitcher who had a no-hitter going into the ninth inning—something Saul had taught me after watching more baseball games over the last two months than I had the previous twenty-eight years of my life. If you said too much about it, then it was more likely to screw everything up. In this case, literally.

  “No.” She exhaled a long breath. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Why? What’s making you go there? Lipstick on his collar? Suggestive text messages?”

  “What? None of that.”

  “Then what, Z?” I could hear an irritation in my voice. Before she could respond, I said, “Hey, I don’t mean to press you or anything. It’s your life, your business.”

  She turned, ran her fingers through her hair. “I think I’m worried that I’m going to lose him, Ivy.”

  “But you have no evidence that there’s another woman in his life?”

  She cocked her head. “Hell no. If there was, I’d kick his ass.”

  “You’re not making a lot of sense.”

  She puffed out a breath. “I know, I know. I’m just…”

  “In love?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “And you’re feeling vulnerable, so you start imagining the worst.”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  “I took a lot of psychology classes in college.”

  “I’m glad one of us has their head screwed on right,” she said.

  I almost laughed, but I held back when I could see she was serious.

  “I’ve locked my keys in the car twice in the last week. I wake up at night in a cold sweat—”

  I smirked at that one. “Was Zeke in the bed with you?”

  “No, traveling again.”

  Interesting.

  “Ask the girls here at the office. I’m just not completely myself.”

  I shook my head.

  “What?” her voice sounded like that of a little girl. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I said it earlier, Z. You’re in love. Embrace it.”

  A smile escaped her lips. “I’ve been married twice before, and I can honestly say I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s great, but it’s also unnerving at the same time.”

  “You’re a lucky girl. What can I say?” My happiness for her quickly shifted to guilt. And I wondered if I should just open up and tell her what her dad had shared with me. That was what friends did, right?

  Are you nuts, Ivy? She’ll never speak to you again, and it will probably lead to a huge fight with her dad. And then Zeke will get involved, and you’ll never learn the truth. You took the case to learn the truth, before Zeke hurts Zahera, if that’s where everything is headed.

  “There is one thing that I can’t get past, Ivy. As long as I’m spilling out my soul to you and everything.”

  I tilted my head, waited.

  “My dad. He doesn’t think I should get married to Zeke. Thinks it’s too quick, I’m not ready, and Zeke’s too much of a jet-setting playboy.”

  “He told you all that?”

  She puffed out a breath. “You know him. Straight to the point. Doesn’t mince words.”

  I could feel my throat get tight. “Since when do you listen to him?”

  “I know, right?” She put a hand on her hip and flipped her pen to the table. Then she turned to look at me. “Two failed marriages. That’s my resume.”

  “But you don’t care what he thinks…well, not about that stuff.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “You do care what he thinks.”

  “I wish I didn’t. But…” She paused and looked off. “Two marriages that didn’t work out.”

  “You just acknowledged how different it feels with Zeke.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “Is this really what’s driving your anxiety? It’s not Zeke possibly cheating on you; it’s more about your—” I stopped, not sure how to say it.

  “Go ahead and spit it out. I’ve got Daddy issues. And I’m pissed at myself for it.”

  I’d never seen Zahera this emotional about so many things. Love and family pressures obviously were at the core of her sensitivity. Her dad could be a real ass. Yet, I also knew that he cared for Zahera deeply; so much so that he’d convinced me that the ties between Zeke and this Ukrainian drug lord were a real possibility. And if I were to ignore his request to investigate the connection and something were to happen to Zahera, then I’d never be able to live with myself.

  “Z, we’ve all got issues. Just some of us are better at hiding them.”

  She reached over and gave me a hug, then held both of my shoulders. “Sorry if it’s all about me right now.”

  “You’re getting married soon. I get it.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t carry over to her expression.

  “I forgot to ask. Do you have a date for the wedding?”

  “New Year’s Eve.”

  “Really?”

  “Is there something wrong with that date?”

  “No, it’s just that there’s a lot going on at that time of the year.”

  “Eh. Remember, it’s number three for me.”

  “You wearing white?”

  “Me and white don’t go.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to handle a little internal HR issue before I run a couple of errands and then meet Zeke at the tux shop. He’s getting a personal fitting from the owner. Zeke apparently knows him from some job several years ago.”

  “Which rental place is it?”

  “They only do custom apparel. It’s for the uber-rich. Run by a guy named Vladimir Medvedev.”

  A Russian name. I chewed on that nugget all the way over to Saul’s place.

  13

  “Do you want a cigarette?”

  Staring out Saul’s apartment window to a myriad of lights flashing against the dark sky, I shifted my eyes over to Saul, who’d just crawled back into bed.

  “You know I don’t smoke.” I playfully tapped his bare shoulder, but felt the curve of his muscle and kept my hand there. He might not have that James Bond aura, but under his cheap suits—he could only afford the two-for-one specials often advertised on TV—he was a real man. It wasn’t just the size of his deltoids or pecs; it went way beyond that. He’d always treated me with respect. The way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, the way he encouraged me to follow my passion…it was all so uplifting. He made me feel better about myself. It was selfless. It was Saul.

  “You kind of have that glow going on,” he said, gently rubbing my thigh. “You up for a doubleheader?”

  I snickered. “Wow, your, uh, appetite is certainly healthy. Did you take a blue pill when I wasn’t watching?”

  He took my hand and kissed it. “I don’t need any blue pills when you’re around.”

  “Are you taking that line from your old single-guy playbook?”

  “I guess that was pretty cheesy, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah. But in twenty years or so, you might just need that little blue pill.”

  He didn’t respond for a few seconds. I turned to look at him. “Did you fall asleep?”

  “No, it’s just that you mentioned something about the future. And you usually don’t talk about the future and us in the same sentence.”

  “I don’t think I mentioned us. If I did, you can strike it from the record, counselor.” I leaned over and poked his ribs. He grunted out a laugh, and then he found my tickle spot—the top of my knee. We kicked and laughed for a good minute. Then I went back to looking out his apartment window. We’d promised each other not to put labe
ls or a timetable on our relationship. I knew that I didn’t do well when I felt pressure from a partner. I’d push him away, or I might pull him too close. I’d grown up thinking that dependency on someone else, even if they professed to care about me, left me exposed. To the point where it seemed like my skin had been peeled from my body and every little breeze of air would send a shiver up my spine.

  But now that Zahera and Zeke were getting married, “couple” labels were being thrown around a lot. I could almost predict the questions Saul and I would field at Zahera’s wedding. Have you guys been thinking about your future? Is this wedding getting you in the mood to finally settle down together? Ivy, you’re not getting any younger…don’t you think it’s time you prepare to have kids?

  I pushed the sheet off my legs. “I’m getting hot.”

  “What’s up, Ivy?”

  “Eh.”

  “Something’s really up. Tell me.”

  I grabbed his hand. “I just don’t want things to change. I like what we’ve got.”

  He nodded. “Is Z’s wedding freaking you out a bit?”

  “Eh.”

  “You can say yes. It’s just me.”

  “Okay. Yes. But it’s not because of you. It’s me. I know I just need to get over myself.”

  His phone buzzed on the side table. He scrambled to pick it up.

  “Something from your asshole boss, Herbert Ross?”

  “No.”

  That was abrupt. A normal girl sitting in my position—literally and figuratively—might start feeling a bit insecure, wondering if Saul had another woman on the side, someone who wasn’t afraid of labels and such.

  “You going to keep me guessing?”

  He sighed, tapped the screen, and then set the phone on the table, his eyes staring straight up to the ceiling.

  This was the point at which I might normally bail. Think the worst. Close up my emotions. Pick up my stuff and walk out the door. Like a little kid who didn’t get her way.

  I had to grow up eventually.

  “You don’t have to tell me who that was, Saul, but you’re upset. Can I help in any way?”

  Was that so tough, Ivy? Well, that depends on how he responds. Another sigh, then he turned his head to me. “Wait, are you thinking I’ve got another woman on the side?”

  “Did I say that?” My response had more attitude than I’d intended.

  “No, but I could tell.”

  I took in a breath. “Like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything. You ask if you can help me when I’ve got stress going on. I was just doing the same thing. But maybe you don’t want my help. Or you don’t want me to pry. I’ll stay on my side of the net.” I pulled up the sheet and turned on my side, away from him.

  His hand touched my hip. “Don’t pull away. I like it when you care.”

  Relief. I chided myself for thinking the worst and turned to face him. “Do I need to provide a leading question and then you can just let it all out?”

  “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

  “About?”

  “My bar exam. I’m not sure I passed.”

  “What does that have to do with the late-night text message?”

  “I set up this auto-message feature that keeps me updated on anything related to the exam. Like when the grades are posted.”

  I sat up. “I’m confused. Did they tell you something about your grade?”

  “No, it was just a reminder that the grades will be posted within forty-eight hours.”

  I rubbed my hand across his chest. “I have confidence in you.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “Come on.”

  “I’m serious. That test kicked my ass.”

  Like everyone, Saul had his moments where his confidence bucket seemed to have a leak. “It’s over, Saul. You took the test. You studied like a crazy man for weeks and weeks. You can’t ask more of yourself. I’m proud of you for just making it this far.”

  The lighting wasn’t great, but I could still see his frown. “My parents worked really hard to put me through school. And I’ve been taking it up the ass from Ross and the other partners at the firm just to keep a job in the field as a legal assistant. If I don’t pass this test, I will have let my entire family down, and my future will be nothing more than being a lackey for Ross. I’m not sure I can handle either.”

  “Saul.”

  He stared straight up.

  “Hey.” I turned his face in my direction. “It’s going to work out. I know it’s going to work out. You are brilliant, and I believe in you.”

  “Thanks.” He cracked a smile and sat up. “You never told me how things went with Z’s dad.”

  I puffed out a breath.

  “He is high stress, isn’t he?”

  “And then some.”

  I glanced out the window, questioning whether I should share the entire saga about Armand twisting my arm until I’d agreed to look into Zeke’s connection to the drug lord. Hell, I couldn’t put it all on Armand. He was convincing, but I was the one who’d said yes. And I was also the one who felt like a load of bricks had been strapped to my back—stress bricks.

  The old Ivy would go on lockdown. What Saul didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And I was a mature adult who could make decisions on her own without approval from him…whatever this was with Saul.

  But ever since I’d survived the last abduction by Milton, who’d undergone something close to twenty surgeries to conceal his identity, Saul had made me promise just one thing: share with him anything I was working on that involved dangerous risks. While I could argue that over half my cases could be labeled as a dangerous risk, he said he’d leave it to me to tell him when something crossed that line.

  He kissed my shoulder. “Are you off in la-la land again?”

  Get right to it, or I’ll talk myself out of it. “Armand wants me to investigate Zeke.”

  No immediate response. I turned to look at him.

  “You’re kidding,” he said, his forehead crumpled.

  I didn’t smile. I couldn’t smile.

  “You’re not kidding?”

  I shook my head, rubbed the back of my neck. He moved my hand and took over the rubbing duties. “I know there’s a story there.”

  “A big one.”

  I told him how Armand’s connection at the FBI had been at least temporarily severed, but not before he’d found some evidence to suggest Zeke was tied to a Ukrainian drug lord.

  “I never thought about Ukraine being a haven for drug production. I thought that was left to our neighbors in Central America.”

  “I think you’re missing the headline here, Saul.”

  “Sorry. Are you’re freaking out because Armand asked you to investigate the fiancé of your best friend?”

  “I’m freaking out because I took the case,” I said, head down.

  A slow nod. “And you’re telling me this because you think there’s a potential risk to your life.”

  “Honestly, I don’t see how it can go there. It’s not like I’m jumping on the next flight to Kiev to begin an expedition into the mountains to find this guy’s drug operation. He’s a world away. I just want to know if Zahera could get her heart broken when she realizes that she married an international drug smuggler and could unknowingly place a target on herself.”

  “You’re putting her life over your life.”

  “Saul.”

  “No, I get it. I just wish you’d put your life first, for once.”

  “Can you please not go there?”

  “Sorry.”

  A moment of silence. My thoughts danced around to everything that I’d experienced during the last few months.

  “You’re feeling guilty,” he said.

  “Yep. But if I’d turned him down, then what would I do? Either way, with him sharing this with me, I’m screwed, at least in terms of my relationship with Zahera.”

  “As one smart person told me, ‘It will work out. I have faith in you.’”

&n
bsp; “So you do listen to me,” I said with a raised eyebrow.

  He picked up a pillow and playfully smacked me upside the head. Before he could get in another blow, I barreled into his chest and held down his arms. Then I gave him a kiss.

  “Hey,” he said, suddenly serious. “Did you have time to submit the form to the state adoption agency?”

  “Buzzkill,” I said, climbing off of him.

  “Sorry.”

  I put my finger to his lips. “Stop saying you’re sorry. You care. That means everything.”

  “Care’s my middle name.”

  “Funny. Not.”

  “I’m assuming you haven’t heard anything back?”

  “Don’t you think I would have told you?”

  “You know it might take a while. The slowly churning wheels of government agencies.”

  “If you’re trying to cushion the blow of getting no feedback so far, thank you. Part of me might be curious: is it because they hate me, or is it because one is dead and the other is fishing in Alaska and could care less? I’m basically going to put it in the back of my mind. If I get word from the state, great. If not, then I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  He held up his fist, and I popped it with mine. Then I threw back the sheets and climbed out of bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “My brain has started cranking, and it won’t stop until I get some work done.”

  “Do you mind if I try to get a few hours of sleep?”

  “You’re the one with the corporate job, so you need the sleep. Someday soon, though, you’ll have your own law practice, and then you’ll work long hours because you want to.”

  “Only if you’ll visit me and we can have sex on the big meeting table.”

  I put my hand on his package. “Dreams do come true.”

  He got to his knees and gave me a kiss, his hands starting to move up my thigh.

  “Later, big boy. For it to be a dream, you have to be asleep.”

  He chuckled, then rolled over and closed his eyes with a smile on his face. I padded out to the living room and jumped on my computer. I had to find out if my best friend was about to marry a very bad man.

  14

  The arm prosthesis made Stan sweat even more than usual, so he threw it to the couch and we walked out the front door.