by J. E. Taylor
Because Charlie was such a rebel, it was difficult to find folks willing to open their doors to the orphans for any length of time. So, he and his brother flowed from one foster family to the next. When Charlie turned sixteen, he took off, leaving his younger brother in the hands of the foster system until he died in a car accident at the age of sixteen.
Charlie’s family doesn’t seem to have luck with cars.
Steve drained the beer and read the accident report for Kyle. The teenager lost control of his car and slammed into a tree. The car exploded, leaving the body mostly charred by the time the fire fighters arrived.
He raised his eyebrows.
Cars don’t just explode... unless it was an old Pinto.
Cocking his head, he leaned forward, pulling up the make and model. The kid had a Trans-Am, not a Pinto. He popped the cap off another Corona and sat back, reviewing the eyewitness accounts. The car didn’t explode on impact. They said it took a good ten seconds between hitting the tree and the explosion, which was powerful enough to send a couple bystanders onto their asses, contributing to the chaos at the scene.
Just doesn’t seem right.
He chewed the inside of his lip in time with the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Jennifer walked in the door, interrupting his train of thought.
“I moved in today,” she said.
He met her stare and the crease between his eyebrows deepened.
Jennifer pointed to her ear and then twirled her finger at the ceiling.
Steve glanced around, catching her drift and kicking himself for not thinking of it before. He hadn’t had a scan of the apartment for a couple of weeks and it would be just like Charlie to bug the place now that he was on his radar. “So I see.” He returned his gaze to her. “How’d rehearsal go?”
“Good. What’d you cook for dinner?” She caught a quick kiss before dumping her pocket book and coat on the chair.
“Chicken alfredo. There’s a covered plate in the oven.” He sipped his beer and closed the connection, shutting off his computer. Swiveling the chair around, he studied the room. Nothing was out of order.
“My god, this is good,” she said through a mouthful of chicken.
“Feel like grabbing a drink after?” he asked, still surveying the apartment. His eyes landed on a knick-knack that he hadn’t noticed before and he crossed to the window smiling as he shot a sideways glance in her direction and drew the shades.
“After what?” Jennifer understood, taking the bait and teasing him.
Steve’s smile disappeared and he turned his back on the covered window. “After we screw around.” His voice carried a certain lightness not reflected in his knotted muscles. He crossed and pointed to the piece.
“Why don’t we have a drink first?” She shook her head and shrugged, telling him it wasn’t hers.
It certainly wasn’t his. He examined the ceramic bunny and glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. “Why’s that?”
Her light laughter filled the apartment. “Because if we get into that bed, we both know we won’t be going out tonight.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Steve said and leaned on the desk facing her, his eyes still scanning the room for places where listening devices could be planted. “You about ready, then?”
How long has Charlie been listening?
Every conversation over the last couple of weeks flowed through his mind and the only time he went off script was this morning.
Shit.
He glanced back at the shelves, holding the ceramic bunny. He didn’t think it had been there, but he couldn’t be sure. He swung his apprehensive gaze toward Jennifer.
“Sure. Let me finish this and I’ll be all set,” she said and took the last bite of her dinner and rinsed the dish before they headed out.
“Jesus,” Steve whispered on the street.
“You really think there’s a tap in our apartment?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes. He’s got a tail on us, which means he’s got some questions about me.” He glanced sideways.
“That isn’t good, is it?”
He shrugged and stopped at the corner when the Do Not Cross sign turned solid. The tail car pulled down the block and stopped. A bus pulled through the intersection, temporarily blocking the view and Steve turned, leading Jennifer down the street to the right and into a small bar on the far corner of the block before the tail could trace them again. They took a seat in the back and ordered a beer.
“No, it isn’t,” he finally answered Jennifer. “It’s just a matter of how long he’s been listening. If he heard our conversation this morning…” He trailed off. “Please reconsider going home.”
“I just landed the lead in the play. Besides, I’m not leaving you.”
He took a deep breath. “Charlie invited me to a get together Friday.”
She stiffened, the unhappy set of her jaw causing him to shake his head.
“I turned him down.”
Jennifer blinked and tilted her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead looked into her beer. “I don’t know whether to thank you or smack you,” she commented after her first sip.
“I promised you I’d be there.”
She leaned back in the seat, a smile playing on her lips. “You chose me over your job? I’m flattered.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be. Jerry arranged to have the seat next to mine.”
The bell over the door of the bar jingled with the next patron.
“That’s him.” She glanced toward the door and back at Steve.
“I figured it wouldn’t be long. Just don’t look at him again,” he said. “Are you ready for Friday?” He tipped the beer to his lips and glanced at the mirror behind the bar, catching their tail’s reflection in the smoky glass before returning his gaze to Jennifer. She was talking.
“...So I got a little angry.”
His eyebrows creased. “Why’d you get angry?”
“Are you even listening to me at all?” she yelled. “Or were you watching the ballgame?” She pointed at the television above the bar where the Knicks were taking on the Celtics.
“I, uh...” Steve glanced over his shoulder. Her outburst drew the attention of the entire bar. He turned back toward her seeing the spark in her eyes. “I heard what you said,” he recovered, getting into character.
“No, you didn’t! You never listen!” Jennifer stood up, storming out of the bar with everyone staring after her.
He hung his head and stood, heading out with a shrug to the other patrons. He caught up with her around the corner near their apartment, grabbing her arm and stopping her. “What was that all about?”
“Roll with it.” She yanked her arm out of his grip and stomped into the apartment building.
Steve put his hands on his hips, exasperated. He hated it when Jennifer took matters into her own hands—things usually got messier when she did that. He made his way into the building and caught sight of the tail as the elevator doors closed.
The ceramic figurine hit him in the temple when he closed the apartment door. It fell, smashing on the floor. Steve ducked under the next item thrown in his direction, the heel of his palm pressed to the spot where the first torpedo hit. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You never listen!” she screamed and hurled another item from the shelves at Steve. She picked up yet another item and pulled her arm back to send it sailing in his direction. “You’re always ignoring me and now that I have your attention…”
“Don’t throw that!” he bellowed. Jennifer’s hand wrapped around a paperweight his grandfather gave him. Embedded inside the crystal ball was the emblem for the Marine Corp unit his grandfather had served with before he became an FBI agent.
“Why the hell not?”
“My grandfather gave me that.” Steve crossed the room tearing it out of her hand. He slammed it back on the shelf and turned his attention to the shattered bits of items he wasn’t able to save. “Damn it, Jenny!” He glared i
n her direction. “You broke the eagle Peg gave me.” He pulled his hand away from his temple, it was covered in blood and a warm trickle slid down his face. “And I’m bleeding.”
Storming into the bathroom, he slammed the door behind him and looked at his reflection. “Shit.” He was bleeding all right. Snatching a washcloth off the rack, he turned on the cold water and soaked the fabric, wringing it before he pressed it to the gash. Anger engulfed him and he yanked open the bathroom door.
Jennifer ran the broom over the floor, collecting the glass in a small pile. “I’m sorry,” she said without turning. “I overreacted.”
“Ya think?” He continued to hold the wet compress to his temple, watching her sweep the glass into a dustpan. “I need stitches.”
Jennifer turned with wide eyes. “You deserve it!” she snapped and mouthed the words I’m so sorry. She looked back at the pile of rubble in the dustpan and picked out the microphone chip. “What’s this?”
Steve stared at the wiretap she held and shrugged, in full view of their stalker.
“You don’t trust me?” She dropped the dustpan, sending the glass bouncing off the pan over the floor and she crossed to him, holding the microphone in front of her like a dead mouse.
Steve stepped away even though he knew the anger emanating was manufactured for their audience. “I’ve never seen that before in my life,” he answered, his gaze bouncing between the wiretap and Jennifer’s face. “What the hell is it?”
“A microphone.” She inspected the item closely. “My ex tapped my phone once with something that looked like this.” She raised her eyes, tossing it to him.
Steve caught the small electronic device. He tilted his head, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t put this here.”
“If you didn’t, then who did?” Jennifer barked.
“Maybe you did.” He spiked the microphone on the floor, grinding the heel of his shoe on the speaker destroying it.
They stood staring at each other for a moment, neither one was sure whether the microphone in the knick-knack was the only tap in the apartment.
“I didn’t plant the wire,” Jennifer said, keeping in character. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe it was my ex.”
Steve sighed and glanced at the mess on the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I’m not your ex,” he said for the benefit of any live microphones, “and if that son of a bitch comes anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.” He pulled the cloth away from his temple, the blue fabric now purple from absorbing the blood. “I need to get to the hospital. Can you drive?”
Jennifer audibly sighed. “Yeah,” she said and led him out of the apartment.
* * * *
“Roll with it?” Steve asked as he sat in the emergency waiting room.
Jennifer chuckled and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to split your head open.”
“Yeah, well, you also broke the eagle Peg gave me.”
Her smile disappeared at the mention of his ex-fiancé’s name, bringing her back to the initiation rite that almost killed them the year before, and all the tragic events leading up to it, including the death of her boyfriend. “If you noticed, I also smashed the ceramic cat Tom gave me.”
He hadn’t noticed; he was too busy dodging the projectiles. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes against the raging headache. “I’ll need to sweep both cars and the rest of the apartment over the weekend to make sure there aren’t any more bugs.”
“So do you think that quantifies me as the crazy girlfriend?”
Steve burst out laughing. “I’d say so.” He glanced over at her. “You can be pretty scary when you put your mind to it.”
Their stalker walked in the emergency room entrance.
“And you can be a royal jackass at times,” Jennifer said, slipping into character.
Steve’s eyebrows creased. “I have half a mind to press charges,” he muttered, sending a wink in her direction.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Steve allowed a brief smile to surface before suppressing it. “Assault with a deadly knick-knack.”
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth to stifle the echo in the small waiting room.
Steve looked at the floor, the smile gaining traction on his lips until the snort escaped and the laughter took hold. He glanced sideways at her. “I’m still pissed at you,” he said, still chuckling.
“I know.” Jennifer patted him on the back. “You’ll get over it.”
Chapter 9
The Knicks’ guard missed the shot and Charlie jumped to his feet, his beer bubbling up from the sudden lurch. “Come on!” he yelled at the large screen television. He had a lot riding on this game, and with the home team teetering on a loss, his mood turned foul.
He switched the bottle to his left hand and snapped his right wrist, sending a small spray of beer over the glass coffee table. Tipping the beer to his lips, he drained half the bottle in one pull and sat down, glaring at the television, willing the Knicks to win.
The phone interrupted his mental chant and he snatched it off the cradle. “What?” he snapped, his eyes still glued to the television.
“They found the bug.”
Charlie’s attention snapped away from the basketball game. “Who?”
“Your star lawyer.”
Irritation blazed under his skin and he clenched his teeth. The Celtics just sunk a three pointer and drew a foul.
Fuck. First the Knicks, now this?
He muted the television. “How?”
“His girlfriend.”
Blinking, he digested the comment. “His girlfriend?”
“Yeah, she is a crazy bitch. I’m talking certifiable. She freaked out on him at a bar because he was watching the Knicks game and then when they got home, she threw the ceramic figure I planted at him.”
What were the odds?
Speechless, he caught his slack-jawed expression in the reflection of the television and closed his mouth. “Was that the only item she threw?”
“No, she threw a bunch of shit and one of them caught him in the temple.” He cleared his throat. “Charlie, she was the one that made the wire, he didn’t know what the hell it was. The girl’s wacked, she accused your lawyer of spying on her and the bitch just moved in today.”
Charlie let out a huff combined with a laugh. “How’d he handle that?”
“Pretty smooth, considering her colossal shit fit. He seemed less freaked by the wire than he was of her accusation, even turned the tables on her.”
“Did he figure it out?”
“No. They think her ex bugged the place.”
“Where are they now?”
“The hospital.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s getting stitches as we speak.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Chuckling came through the line. “No, sir. She drove him to the hospital.”
Something didn’t add up. Steve didn’t seem like the kind of person who would take that kind of shit, especially not from a woman, but who knows? He chewed on the side of his lip for a moment. “Stay on him,” he ordered, going on gut instinct. He suspected the loyalties of his star lawyer weren’t in the right place. He hung up the phone and took the television off mute, but was no longer seeing what was playing out on the court, his mind preoccupied with how he could test that loyalty to be sure.
Chapter 10
The alarm went off, sending the shrill buzz through his head. Steve moaned. His head felt like cymbals banged together an inch from his ear, the vibrations and high pitched whine filling his brain. Wincing, he sat up and grazed the bandage with his fingers, taking a deep breath, blowing it out slowly to settle his rolling stomach.
He took a moment, steadying himself and willing his stomach to settle before standing and heading to the bathroom.
The shower’s warm water felt like heaven and he stood, letting the jets pound the back of his neck for longer than normal. He opened on
e eye when Jennifer cracked the shower door.
“Are you okay?”
Steve closed his eye. “I will be,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“I am so sorry.” She stepped under the stream and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hell of a pitch.” His lips found the nape of her neck and his arms wrapped around her body. Sucking the warm water off her skin, he moved his lips up the line of her neck to her earlobe, gently nibbling. He pulled away from her ear and looked down into her bright green eyes for a brief moment before crushing her lips. Hers parted and their tongues mingled, rolling, tasting each other, the passion diminishing his headache while his hands wandered over her wet skin.
He made love to his wife under the warm stream of water, her moans a crescendo in his ear as they peaked together.
Trembling, he set her down and leaned his forehead on hers, his heartbeat returning to normal along with his breathing. “I love you.” He kissed her briefly and stepped out of the shower to get ready for work, his headache now a dull thump instead of the earlier sharp roar.
He sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on his shoes, tying the thin laces and looking up at her when she came out of the bathroom wrapped in only a towel. Grazing her voluptuous form, he offered a smile and stood. “What time does rehearsal end?”
“I’ll be home late tonight.”
“I’ll have something here for you when you get in.” He paused by her side and kissed her cheek. “Break a leg.” Grinning, he left the apartment.
* * * *
Steve stopped at the Starbucks around the corner from the office, grabbing his normal latte and a muffin and taking his normal seat by the window. Turning over the script in his mind, the explanation for the stitches, for the conversation he knew Charlie was briefed on, he poked holes in it, revising until he had a more believable story, one even he’d buy. He just prayed the stupid knick-knack wasn’t there yesterday morning—otherwise he was a dead man.
