Defending Pacer

by TJ Hamilton

  Making my way back over to Chelsea’s house, I decide I need to go straight to the horse’s mouth for the answers I need.

  ***

  She’s soundly sleeping in her bed when I finally get past her barricaded set-up. I watch her for a few minutes. She is absolutely beautiful, even more so when her hair covers half her face in her slumber. I could never stay angry with her, no matter what she might be up to. She’s that final missing piece to my heart’s puzzle of emotions.

  I kneel next to her, and carefully brush her hair away from her face. Her eyes spring open and stare at me, wide as saucers.

  “Hey.” I try to calm her. “It’s me.”

  She shoots straight up. “What the fuck?” Her voice is jittery.

  “I’ve been worried.” My justification is terrible.

  Rubbing at her eyes, her voice sounds irritated. “You were worried, so you thought performing a home invasion would solve it?” A naked breast welcomes me, even if she isn’t.

  God, I love your sharp tongue.

  I laugh. “You haven’t left me much choice. Your phone was off all night.”

  I pull my grey woollen sweater over my head, and clasp my belt.

  “What? You think you can just break in here, and start having sex with me?” Frowning indignantly, she pulls the covers up over her naked body.

  My pants drop to the ground. “Chill, honeybee. I’m just getting into your bed. No one said there has to be sex. You disappear on me and won’t answer my calls or texts—I think I’m entitled to a little spooning.”

  She grins. “Entitled?”

  “Entitled,” I repeat and slide into the comfort of her bed.

  I hold my arms out for her to fold into. She doesn’t fight it and her warm body nuzzles against mine, my tension instantaneously decreasing.

  “And what’s my entitlement for you telling me to shut the fuck up and looking at me as if you were about to rip my head clean from my body today?”

  I feel like a real piece of work. “Yeah about that—”

  “It’s okay,” she interrupts, “I found some paperwork today that explained why you dislike Karen Lawson so much. Her husband investigated a couple of your cases, right?” Her blue eyes draw up to mine.

  What paperwork have you found, honeybee? Is it the paperwork Reed told me he has?

  Smiling, I can’t help but want to kiss her sweet face. Despite what I’ve done in my life, she’s still willing to accept me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like her, but I know I’m going to do everything I can to keep her.

  “I won’t ever lose my shit like that again,” I assure her between kisses. “It’s just this whole media circus got the better of me today.”

  She nods and offers a faint smile. “I know the feeling. I just don’t understand what their obsession is?”

  “What the fuck is that all about?” I chuckle.

  She laughs. “My life, your life—they’re both extraordinary. Are we the only people who understand that about each other?”

  “Possibly.” I couldn’t agree with you more, honeybee. “Good enough reason to see where this goes, if you ask me.”

  With that, I kiss her and our bodies naturally meld into one another. There isn’t an inch of her body that I don’t beg to have against me. In the most unique of ways, she fits me and I fit her.

  We fit.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I didn’t realise how soundly I slept until I woke up. That was some good sleep. We only had sex for forty minutes, which is an official record of the shortest time for us.

  Forty minutes. Is this a change in the relationship? We’ve gone from fucking for twelve hours, to an hour, to forty minutes … all within thirty-six hours. Is it a sign that things are slowing between us, already?

  Don’t be a dickhead!

  We’ve only been together for less than two days. But getting to know her for two weeks has only cemented that she has all the things I want in a woman. She had the sex appeal before we had sex, and now that I know what that leads to, she has more appeal than ever.

  I hold her body in my arms; she sleeps heavily within them. I roll onto my back and she moves with me, tucking in like a little ball of wool. If you stay right here, I will protect you forever.

  I want to tell her how much she is perfect for me.

  My Ma and sister have tried to tell me that there is such a thing as love at first sight. I would scoff at it. I believed in insta-fuck —I could instantly tell when I was going to fuck a woman … which was all the time.

  I fucked Chelsea the first time, too. I wanted to fuck her for the past two weeks beforehand. But then something happened. Emotions fired off like the electrical currents in a light bulb.

  After that, everything changed. Something happened that my Ma and sister never spoke to me about. They didn’t warn me about what happened when you fucked a woman that you have feelings for. I felt something for Chelsea, and suddenly our fucking turned into something so much more. It turned into … feelings.

  She wriggles within my arms. Squeezing her, I let her know she’s still with me. Her head turns first, then her body manoeuvrers around to face me.

  “What time is it?” Her first-thing-in-the-morning voice is edible.

  My fingers playfully dig into her torso. “What is it with you and time?”

  She squirms and giggles at my strong fingers. “I have a job that requires me to know the time.”

  “Excuses,” I retort.

  “Says the man-child.” Your sexy tongue, honeybee.

  It’s always her sexy tongue; it gets me every time. I lean my arm out and reach the phone on the bedside table. “Eight-fifteen.”

  Chelsea’s body rolls backwards, and her arms stretch out as the wave ripples over her body. It’s incredible to watch.

  “I’m glad you broke into my house.” She laughs.

  “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think you were worth it. So where were you last night?”

  She eyes me for a second before answering. “Working.”

  Unconvinced, I shake my head. “Working on what exactly? You weren’t in your office,”

  “How do you know that? Did you break in there too?” She walks out of the bedroom as she talks.

  “I have my ways,” I call out after her.

  Is she avoiding this conversation? That only means she’s hiding something. I hear the shower start and decide to join her.

  Her bathroom is like a piece of history. I’m sure it’s all the original work. The white claw bath is huge. They don’t make them like that any more. The bath/shower combination has a shower curtain with a black and white picture of David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. It makes no sense and makes me laugh. I didn’t notice this in here last time.

  Chelsea’s head pokes around the edge of the curtain. “What are you sniggering at?”

  “Ziggy Stardust on a shower curtain?” I smile.

  She draws the curtain back playfully. “Don’t even question my Bowie obsession. It will be a deal-breaker if you do.”

  Climbing in the shower behind her, I watch her shampoo her gorgeous blonde locks for a moment before taking over and rubbing her scalp. She leans back. I can see the smile on her face from here. This feels nice.

  “I never would’ve picked you for a David Bowie kind of girl.” I work her hair into a lather.

  “And what does a Bowie kind of girl look like?”

  She amuses me so much. “Not you. You look like a Celine Dion type of girl. Or maybe Lady Gaga.”

  She peaks out at me between her dark lashes and grins. “Please! Don’t insult me. Lady Gaga maybe, but Celine Dion? Are you kidding me?”

  I guide her head under the water and wash out the worked in shampoo. She smiles the whole time. It makes me smile. I could get used to this co-showering thing. I look down her body while she rinses the rest of the shampoo out. Yep, definitely could get used to this.

  ***

  “I’ll wait until you’ve gone first and head out thro
ugh the garage. Hopefully there aren’t any paps waiting for me out the back. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you over to work? Or at least you should get a cab today.” I slip my gloves on, now fully dressed.

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t care if they follow me. I have to meet with friends this morning. I meet with them every morning for breakfast … well, except for yesterday.”

  She sheepishly closes the door on the spare room that has my shrine that she made. Despite her best efforts to keep it hidden, I know it’s there so I’ll just humour her and go along with the act of not taking notice. Pulling her coat on, she wraps a scarf around her neck. There’s my boring suit girl. I smile.

  “Just call me if you need me to come and rescue you.” I pull her to me.

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I can handle the cameras, Pacer. I have a feeling this will all be over soon anyway.” She kisses my lips.

  What are you up to, my honeybee?

  “You’re up to something, and whatever it is, I’ll find out.” I have to warn her again. “There are a few things about the city that you just don’t understand. I don’t need you getting involved in something that could be dangerous. Leave that up to me.”

  Her eyes search mine. “Tell me what’s going on, Pacer? What’s Jackson Reed got to do with all of this?”

  I’m going to sort that asshole out before he comes after Chelsea. If he touches even a hair on her head, he will wish his death came fast.

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Jackson Reed is bad, but his days are numbered.”

  “Please be careful, Pacer. He has friends in such high places that even I won’t be able to help you if you get caught doing anything to him.”

  Her words make me laugh. If only she knew the Jackson Reed I know—he has a lot of enemies in high places, too. I want to call a meeting with him today. This needs to be sorted before he gets out of hand.

  “Okay, I’d better go.” She grabs her bag and sunglasses and stands at the front door.

  “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t walk. Get a cab to your friends.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “It’s seriously just around the corner. I’ll be fine. They can take as many pictures as they want. Mick and Larry will love the attention. Don might have the shits though. He’s not much of a morning person. This could actually be pretty amusing.” She chuckles.

  I’d be lying if I said the mention of these guys’ names didn’t make me a little possessive.

  “Who are these guys? How do you know them?”

  Her eyes narrow slightly as she smiles. “Pacer Fratelli, you sound jealous.”

  My smile is hard to hide. I lean in and kiss her one last time. Slapping her on the ass as she leaves, I have one final playful stab. “Go. Enjoy your boyfriends.”

  She giggles as she shuts the front door. I watch through a gap in the drawn curtain. Two photographers race to her, and she takes it all in her stride, talking and smiling as she walks. Watching her makes me less worried about how she’s going to be this morning. The last time I saw her with a face full of cameras I was in a fit of rage, so perhaps I underestimated her ability to handle all of this.

  Checking for any looming paparazzi, I successfully make a quick exit out through the back garage.

  ***

  Waiting at an old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, I finish my cigar and watch the container ships load their cargo across the water through the gaps in the wall. A bang at the rear of the building turns my attention towards the sound.

  Franco, Big Jim and Pete from the family flank Reed as he walks through the graffiti-covered space.

  “What’s this all about, Fratelli? We had a deal.” His defiance is endless.

  “Yes. We did have a deal, which you broke. Sit.” I point to the chair in front of me.

  Now he starts to look concerned. “I have people on standby you know, Fratelli. The moment I go missing, they’ll come after you. Then you’ll feel the full force of the law. Everything will be exposed.”

  Interesting. “Everything?”

  Reed sinks into the seat, his eyes flicking between the three big guys that surround him.

  I grab his throat and squeeze. Coming inches from his face, I speak. “I’m not going to kill you today, Reed. But if you stay in town, I will. Take some time off work and disappear. I’m giving you twenty-four hours to get your shit and leave town … for good.”

  “You can’t threaten me like that.” His voice strains.

  “I just did.” I watch his face turn red as I squeeze him tighter.

  He holds onto my gloved hand, and his breathing splutters. I let go and step back.

  He coughs and gasps. “I know every person you’ve knocked off. You’re a piece of shit, Fratelli. The whole city knows that. Have you seen your girlfriend’s old man yet? Word on the street is that he wants your trial brought forward so that you’re away from his daughter. A man like him won’t stop until you’re behind bars.”

  I grab his throat again. This time I can’t control my anger and squeeze tighter. “You leave Chelsea and her family out of this. You hear me? I will fucking cut you into pieces if you so much as breathe a word to her.” His eyes begin to bulge. It excites me. “Get out of town, Reed. Or I will come after you.”

  I force myself to let go just as his eyes glaze over and his consciousness slips.

  “Take him back now, boys.” Big Jim and Pete pick him up and drag him out of the warehouse.

  “Why don’t you just get rid of him now?” Franco hangs back to ask.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. He would have the dogs after me the moment he goes missing. He needs to make his own way out of the city.” I shake my head. “Don’t worry. Once I’ve found all those missing documents, he’ll be gone.”

  “What about Chelsea?”

  I spin around and feel my temper flaring again. “What about Chelsea?”

  My reaction to her name being mentioned makes Franco step back. “She may be able to get those documents for you. Then he can be gone.”

  He just doesn’t get it. “She is not getting involved, Franco. Now drop it.”

  “It was just a thought,” he says as he walks off to join the others.

  It was just a thought—a thought that I keep asking myself about, over and over. But I don’t want to risk her getting involved. She’s a good girl. She comes from a different world, and doesn’t need my shit to cloud her judgement.

  Once I find these documents that Reed has on me, he’ll be a dead man walking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Logan waits for me in her black Mercedes SUV at the front of my office building. Another day and another round of media stories that show Pacer and I … in love.

  This can’t be front-page news, surely?

  A dozen cameras and a few journalists follow me all the way to Logan’s car as I walk.

  A reporter holds her microphone out at my face. “Chelsea, can you confirm that you and Pacer Fratelli are involved?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, we’re involved … I’m his barrister and he’s my client.”

  I get into the car and the moment I close the door, Logan slips into traffic and around the corner. Today Logan is more he with his ripped skinny jeans and blue floral shirt, buttoned all the way up, and nude lips.

  “Oh this is cute. It’s like hipster, twink,” I tease.

  “Hi honey. How have you been?” he says as he weaves in and out of the traffic like a pro.

  He Logan definitely shines through when I need rescuing. Another reason why two Logans are better than one.

  “How do you think?” I glance at him. “How’s Mum and Dad? Has Dad calmed down yet?”

  He shrugs. “Uncle John wasn’t in the best mood yesterday when I saw him. I picked Mum and Aunt Tilly up from the hairdressers’ today and Aunt Tilly seemed fine. She said she calmed your Dad down, but they still want to see you in person. I think they’re just really worried about you.”


  I scoff. “There’s nothing to worry about. Pacer’s not such a bad guy.”

  “He’s a criminal, Chels. Are you sure you haven’t lost your mind a little?”

  Watching out the window, I answer, “He’s a good criminal.”

  Logan laughs. “Yeah, that’s not convincing me. You had better come up with something better than that for Aunt Tilly and Uncle John. Uncle John will lose his mind if you say that.”

  “I’d never say that to him,” I agree.

  Logan’s right; I need to get my speech prepared. This is worse than a closing statement in court.

  My phone dings with another message. The machine that was my enemy yesterday has been my saving grace today. Pacer’s messages have been getting me through the day. He’s far cleverer than I gave him credit for. Forty-eight hours into our romance, and I am pretty certain I’m in love with him.

  PACER: If you put on red shoes you can dance the blues?

  I smile. After our conversation about David Bowie this morning in the shower, I told Pacer that Bowie makes more sense than anything else in this world, and he took that advice like a champion. His texts messages started with ‘The world according to Bowie’ and continued with quotes from all my favourite songs, and questions about why.

  CHELSEA: See! Isn’t Bowie brilliant!

  PACER: But why the protein pills and helmet?

  CHELSEA: Because, space. Plus we know Major Tom’s a junkie.

  PACER: Fascinating

  I laugh and feel Logan’s eyes on me. “Man you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

  “Is it really such a bad thing to fall in love?”

  Logan shrugs. “Sure. But remember the rules—someone like you isn’t meant to fall for someone like Pacer.”