by J. E. Taylor
“No I don’t have anything yet.” Chris glanced up at Steve for a fraction of a second.
Steve scoffed.
“Go fuck that girl and get it over with.” Chris leaned back and stretched.
“Crude son of a bitch,” Steve muttered.
Chris shrugged. “Then stop thinking about it.”
“Fuck you,” Steve said.
“Please, just go out for a little while,” Chris sighed. Steve’s bouncing thoughts were distracting, especially where he was concerned. “And I’m not going to jail when this is all over.” He leveled his eyes at Steve.
Steve sighed, keeping eye contact. He nodded and headed out, flagging a cab, spouting out her address as he settled in the seat.
When the cab pulled into the driveway of the brownstone in Brooklyn, the curtain moved aside in the upstairs window. Steve formed a rim with his hand as he glanced up, squinting from the sun. He paid the cab driver and approached the house.
The door opened as he went to knock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, wrapped in a terry bathrobe with dripping hair.
Steve pulled off his sunglasses. “I was a little harsh this morning.” He studied her toenails before he raised his eyes, taking in the milky white legs, scanning her until his eyes reached hers. A hunger there made his lips curl into a smile. “Can I come in?” He tilted his head a little.
Sarah hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She said, scanning him quickly before her eyes returned to his. She clutched the front of her bathrobe.
Steve looked up at the building and back down into her eyes. He knew she wanted him to come in, but he didn’t trust her thoughts. The last time he acted on them, she kneed him in the balls. “Ok.” He started to turn away.
“Wait,” Sarah said and then sighed as she stepped aside waiving him in the house again.
When the door closed, he was already standing in the living room. He turned toward Sarah, not really understanding why he had come. “My wife,” he started, “she’s been in a coma for almost a year.” He dug his hands into his pockets and glanced around the room.
“Please, sit,” Sarah said, still clutching the bathrobe closed.
Steve took a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs and studied his fingernails. “I, uh,” he stopped and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Sarah was standing in front of him and her hands had dropped to her sides letting the bathrobe slide open. His eyes scanned her skin and then returned to her face. He slightly shook his head. “I’m...”
“How long has it been?” Her voice was soft and she made no move to cover herself.
Steve’s eyes wandered again and he forced them to focus on his hands. “Over a year.”
Sarah reached down, taking his hand and moved it to the curve of her hip.
Her silky skin met his fingertips and he took a deep breath. “Is this what you really want?” he asked, looking up into her fawn colored eyes.
She nodded.
“I don’t want to put you in the line of fire.”
Sarah tilted her head. “What line of fire?”
“Kyle’s,” Steve pulled his hand away from her skin and leaned back in the chair. He wanted her and the need fueled his fear. He didn’t want to have any weaknesses when he faced Kyle and knew she was fast becoming just that, a weakness.
Sarah smiled. “I’m a cop,” she said. “Being in the line of fire doesn’t scare me.”
Steve let out a small laugh. “He killed my partner at Quantico and grabbed my boss near a crime scene. You should be scared. Being associated with me...” He trailed off and studied the patterns in her carpet. “Being associated with me is a death sentence.”
Sarah took a step closer. “I’ll be just fine.” The words were soft and sultry; the bitchy cop had disappeared again. “I want you,” she added as his gaze found hers.
Steve tilted his head, drawing a deep breath. “I’m married.”
With that, Sarah stepped back and pulled her robe together. “Then why are you here?” The bitchy cop was back as she slumped onto the corner of the couch, curling her legs underneath her.
Steve shook his head and shrugged. “You know, I really have no idea.” He stood to leave.
Sarah audibly sighed. “Sit down.” The words came out with her exhale.
Steve hesitated and then sat back in the chair. “I guess I needed someone to talk to.” He admitted running his hand through his thick dark hair. “My wife is clinically brain dead.”
Sarah offered him a shrug.
“I don’t know if she’ll ever recover.” He tilted his head a fraction and offered Sarah a wisp of a smile before looking away. “I should go.” He went to stand and Sarah moved like a cat, blocking his path and pulling him to her lips.
A hint of cinnamon permeated his mouth as her tongue swept across his teeth. He gave in, inviting the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Her fingers ran down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as they went. She found the clasp to his belt and his hand stopped her.
Pushing her away, Steve drew in a deep breath. “I fucked up once before and I’d rather not have to lie to my wife if she regains consciousness.” He scanned her again. “You’re a beautiful woman and while I’d love to...” He licked his lips and closed his eyes. “I can’t, not while she’s still alive.”
Her eyes narrowed and a crease appeared between her eyes. “What?”
Buttoning up his shirt, he headed toward the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” He waved toward the living room and turned away, reaching for the door handle.
“Don’t leave.”
Steve hesitated at the sound of her soft and soothing voice. When he glanced back at her, his stomach clenched at the pleading in her eyes.
“I have to, because if I stay, I’ll do something both of us will regret.”
He walked out of the house and turned in the direction the cab had come, not really knowing where he was heading. Coming upon a subway station, he headed uptown and decided to get off at the Brooklyn Bridge and grab a bite at the Seaport. Turning his mind away from Sarah, he watched the ferries come and go and mulled over what he would do with Chris. He couldn’t let the man just walk free, could he?
He drained the beer and pulled out the cash for the meal, heading uptown, opting to walk instead of taking the subway. His mind worked overtime during the slow progression, blocking the thoughts of the pedestrians. The promise to Eric clouding his judgment, clouding what he knew was right and wrong. He stopped in front of the building, looking up at the posh apartment complex lining the park.
Sighing, he stepped inside with no real answer.
Chapter 40
Chris picked up the phone and placed a call home after he finished cleaning up the accounts and doing a little more research online.
“Hey, babe, are the kids at school?” he asked.
“You know they are,” Jessica said.
The transition took a couple of seconds and he crossed the room, taking her in his arms. “I missed you last night,” Chris said and planted a kiss on her lips tasting her usual afternoon citrus smoothie. “You were sleeping peacefully when I popped in.”
“I hated going to sleep without you here and waking up was worse. How long are you going to be down there?”
Chris raised his eyebrows. “Are you whining?”
Jessica glanced up into his eyes. “A little.” Her lips curved into a smile and he ran his hands down her still sculpted back.
Her warmth radiated through the silk shirt and he grinned, his gaze traveling to the bed and back in a quick suggestive flicker.
She leaned up and kissed him, scraping her teeth along his lower lip in a way that drove him wild.
“Chris?” The familiar voice broke through his trance.
His smile disappeared and he blinked. Chris looked across his living room at Steve, annoyed at the interruption.
* * * *
When he walked into the apartment, Chris was still sitt
ing at the computer with the phone to his ear just staring into space, his eyes half closed and his face in frozen animation. The glazed look reminded him of Jennifer when she had her visions. “Chris?”
The animation returned to his face and Chris glowered at Steve. “I have to go babe,” he said into the receiver. “I love you.” He hit the button to end the call. “Don’t you fucking knock?” He stood and retreated into the kitchen.
Steve stared after him, not understanding what set off his host. He heard the refrigerator bang shut and a tink on the floor that he assumed was a bottle top. He pushed the kitchen door open. Chris drained a beer.
He glared over the bottle at Steve.
“What’d I do?” Steve asked.
Chris pulled the empty bottle away from his lips and let out a hefty burp. “You came back earlier than I expected,” he answered turning and slamming the bottle on the counter. “I was having a moment with my wife.” He pulled out another beer and popped the cap off.
Steve’s eyebrows scrunched to the point they almost touched and he tilted his head. “Huh?”
Chris dipped his head to the side without losing eye contact, conveying his meaning silently.
Steve’s eyes went wide. “Projecting?” He stepped back. “Wow.” He took another step away, filtering through the memories Eric downloaded into his mind. “Shit, that’s real?” He blinked and let a laugh escape. “Sorry man.” He turned and walked out onto the balcony, not knowing what else to say.
Chris followed and handed him a beer as he took the lounge chair next to Steve. “You should have seen my face the first time I did it,” he said with a sigh. “I transitioned from New York to California and caught Jessica when she fainted.” Shaking his head at the memory, he tipped the beer to his lips.
“Do you have any clue how bizarre this all is?”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes. I actually had to explain it to my lawyer once and saying it all out loud sounds certifiable.” He tipped his beer in Steve’s direction. “A lot like explaining all the shit that lead up to seeing that monster in Black Cove.”
Steve allowed a smile and a shrug. “Bleeding notebooks, off the wall hazing rituals and a monster.” He laughed, clicking the neck of his bottle to Chris’s.
“Don’t forget your wife’s visions.”
Steve’s smile evaporated and he stood up, crossing to the balcony wall. He surveyed the cityscape before he turned, thinking about his encounter with Sarah. Guilt bit him.
Chris raised his eyebrows. “You screwed the cop?”
Steve shook his head and turned back to the cityscape.
Chris took a sip of beer debating on whether to razz Steve or just let it be. He sighed. He would have done the same if the tables were reversed.
Silence overtook the balcony.
“Jenny’s the reason I pegged Kyle so quickly.” Steve broke the silence after a few minutes.
“She wasn’t with you when you figured out who I was. Fifteen years and no one else came close.” He took a sip of beer and pointed at Steve. “You have moments of brilliance.” One side of his mouth curled up as he took another sip of beer.
“And moments of idiocy.”
Beer spewed from Chris’s mouth, the laughter catching—sending liquid down the wrong pipe and his cough sputtered until he forced his airway clear and released a colossal burp. “Don’t we all?”
Steve grinned and raised his beer. He was beginning to really like this man.
Chris got up, wiping the front of his shirt with his hand. He drained the beer. “I’ve got to run out for a bit. When I get back, I’ll take you to Uncle Jack’s for a steak.”
“Uncle Jack’s?”
“Best steakhouse in the city.” Chris smiled.
“You trying to bribe a federal officer?”
Chris laughed. “Absolutely!”
Steve watched him leave and shook his head. Chris Ryan was definitely a character.
Chapter 41
Chris walked into his lawyer’s office, extending his hand as Lynn Trueman stood behind the desk.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lynn said and smiled at her client.
“I need to do some updates to my will and I need to set up a trust fund.” He sat down and rattled off the instructions for both the trust fund and the will.
“Are you sure?” Lynn asked before she began typing up the addendums.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Chris waited while Lynn drafted up the addendum and trust documents. He gave her the bank account number that Kyle’s ten million had been siphoned to and made the call to transfer some funds of his own. He signed the paperwork and handed over an envelope. “This is to be delivered to Mr. Williams with the amount discussed if something should happen to me.”
Lynn took the envelope and stared up at Chris as he stood. “Are you in trouble?” she asked as she gazed at the signed documents and the new instructions in front of her.
Chris smiled and shook his head. “No, this kid is very special to the family and I want him taken care of.”
Nodding, Lynn took the documents and filed them in her briefcase to bring to court for submission in the morning. “How’s the family?” she asked as she stood up and came around from behind the desk.
“Getting along.” Chris answered. Lynn had been at Eric’s funeral. “Steve was Eric’s partner.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his mousy lawyer.
Lynn nodded. “I remember him from the funeral.” She cocked her head. “Nice looking.” The blush crept into her cheeks as she smiled up at Chris.
“I suppose,” Chris said and took a deep breath. His affairs were now in order. “Thanks for fitting me in at the last minute,” he added and opened the door.
“Anytime.” She smiled.
Chris walked out with one less thing on his mind. Jessica would eventually understand and so would his kids.
Chapter 42
Steve was still lounging on the balcony when Chris arrived back at the apartment. He checked the computer programs and smiled.
The transfer failed today and with it came the money trail. He joined Steve on the balcony after a few inquiry searches panned out. Stretching on the lounge chair, he put his hands behind his head and grinned at Steve. “I got a name.”
Steve sat up, staring at him with wide eyes, waiting.
“And I know where the money is going.”
“What’s the name?” Steve asked, his voice a low gruff growl.
“John Sheridan.”
Steve settled back in the seat. “Where is he?”
“I’m working on that, but first I’m draining all his accounts through the same channel.”
“Can you max his credit cards, too?”
“Sure.”
Steve shot a glance in his direction. “Really?”
Chris nodded. “Just as soon as I get the social security number that he’s using.” He stood up and retreated into the apartment, checking on the progress of his programs.
Satisfied, he crossed to the balcony door. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Chapter 43
Uncle Jack’s was crowded for a weeknight, so they opted to grab a seat in the bar. The second of a three-game series between the Red Sox and Yankees was on the monitor above the bar. They exchanged a glance.
“You root out loud and I won’t pick up the tab,” Chris warned.
“Go Red Sox.” Steve grinned as the first beer slid across the bar top.
“You are just as much of a pain in the ass as Eric was,” he muttered.
“Why, thank you.” Steve raised his beer.
“That wasn’t a compliment, shithead,” Chris said. He glanced at the monitor. Boston was ahead by three in the sixth inning. Goddamnit, now I’ll never hear the end of it!
Steve chuckled, hearing Chris’s thought process. “Yeah, yeah.” He took a sip of beer and returned his gaze to the television.
Chris lowered his head slightly when the Yankees had bases loaded and two outs. The count w
as two strikes and one ball. “Home run,” he whispered as the pitcher drew back. He closed his eyes and sent a pulse and his eyes flew open at the crack of the bat. The ball sailed out of the park and the Yankees were now ahead by one.
“That’s cheating.” Steve glared at Chris.
Chris shrugged. I didn’t want to hear your smug comments all night. He directed the thought to Steve and sipped his beer around the grin on his face. He put the beer down and the room tilted. “Whoa,” he said, gripping the edge of the bar.
Steve glanced in his direction, grabbing Chris’s arm as he swayed a little in the seat.
Chris shook the fog out of his head. He didn’t pass out this time but the wave of dizziness threw him off balance. “Shit,” he whispered and glanced at his reflection. A small tear escaped the corner of his eye, tracking a hot path down the side of his nose and he reached for a napkin to wipe it off.
“Are you okay?” Steve’s concern was genuine and Chris stared at the smear of blood on the napkin.
Chris nodded. “I will be,” he said without looking at Steve. “Just give me a second.” He took a deep breath and glanced at Steve, cloaking his thoughts and wondering whether it would be Steve or a stroke that killed him. “I’m just hungry,” he said, although he was still a little unsteady.
The bartender returned with their food. Both plates had a T-bone steak with sides of baked potatoes and green beans.
The Yankees pulled out the win as they finished their meals.
“You should have that checked,” Steve said as they strolled from mid-town toward the apartment building.
Chris shot him a sideways glance, pressing his lips together before he shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said even though the restaurant bathroom mirror said otherwise. He knew the corner of his right eye was blood red, like he had popped a vessel.
“You don’t look fine,” Steve said and his thoughts echoed the fact that Chris still hadn’t gotten all the color back in his face.
