Security Squad

by Nicolette Pierce

  “I’m pretty sure I do.”

  “Pretty sure?” she questioned, taking another large gulp.

  “I do know him. He’s a great guy.”

  “I know he’s a great guy, but this is also the guy who never could stay in a relationship.”

  “He’s stayed in a relationship with me,” I said.

  “For what? A whole three weeks?”

  I gave a tiny shrug. “Something like that.”

  Kym huffed and then settled into her chair, eyeing me intently.

  “Don’t be mad,” I said. “I came here for objective advice. I need your help.”

  She sighed and unruffled. “I’m sorry. Mrs. J. didn’t warn me about this. She just said you two were fighting.”

  “It was a fight merely brought on by tension,” I said. “We’re fine.”

  “I like Evan,” Kym said. “I’ve always liked him, but is he worth leaving your friends and family for?”

  “It’s not like I’m leaving forever,” I said. “It’s only while he goes to school.”

  “And then he’ll find a job back here in Madison?” she asked, knowing I didn’t know the answer.

  “We haven’t talked about it,” I admitted.

  “Then what did you talk about?”

  “I don’t even know anymore. I’m just so confused.”

  “By what?” she asked softly.

  “By everything.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “It feels like a lot,” I said. “I just really wish I had more time.”

  “Is he pressuring you?” she asked.

  “No . . . yes. It’s not really him, it’s just circumstances. He either has to be at Harvard soon or he’ll have to stay. I don’t want him to give up his dream.”

  “If he’s willing to give it up for you, maybe it’s not his dream.”

  “He said it was.”

  “Oh,” Kym said, lost for words. But only briefly. It was Kym, after all. “So, he said it’s his dream to go to Harvard, but he’s willing to stay in Madison. I think he should stay, then. At least until you’ve had enough time to decide. If he was accepted into Harvard once, he can do it again.”

  “There’s no guarantee that will happen,” I said.

  “Do you want to move to Boston?” she asked.

  “Not especially,” I said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with moving to Boston. I guess I never really wanted to move anywhere. But I’m willing to.”

  “Then why are we having this conversation?” Kym asked. “If you’re willing to move, and Evan wants you to move with him, what’s holding you back?”

  “I don’t know. It just happened way too fast. I wasn’t ready for it.”

  “If you weren’t ready for it, then it sounds like you still aren’t ready for it.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip while Kym polished off my wine. She set the glass down with a clink.

  “Does he love you?” she asked.

  “He’s never said the words, but I know he cares.”

  “Do you love him?” she asked.

  “I think I might. I do care about him. He’s unbelievable in bed,” I added. I don’t know why I added that. The tips of my ears blazed.

  She snickered, bringing us both into a better mood. It was short-lived, though; we both became silent, lost in our thoughts.

  It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later that Kym broke the silence. “Do you love Brett?”

  “I did,” I said.

  Chapter 12

  I arrived at Road Hog a little after one to find Mac and Bob wandering the parking lot.

  “Nice shiners,” I called.

  They both looked over with their purple eyes. I don’t remember them throwing punches at each other last night, but with all the rolling and flaying, I guess some bruises were bound to happen. At least they’re friends again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “We’re looking for clues,” Mac said.

  “Clues?”

  “Someone destroyed our signs and we’re going to figure out who,” Bob said.

  “I’m sure it was just some kid looking for amusement,” I said.

  “I might have thought so too,” Bob said. “But we found tire tracks.”

  “Okay, so a teenager with a driver’s license was out for a good time.”

  Mac shook his head. “Nah. There’s something fishy about this. I think it’s a rival bar.”

  “If there’s a rival bar, then we’d be the ones sabotaging them. It’s not like we’re competition enough for them to care about us.”

  “They knew these signs would bring in customers,” Bob stated. “They were being proactive.”

  “I like a business that takes the initiative to be proactive,” I said to two purple glares.

  “I think I hear Hank calling you,” Mac said.

  I headed inside with a smile.

  Hank was draped on a barstool with his head resting on the bar.

  “How ya feelin’, Hank?” I asked, slapping him on the back.

  He groaned, winced, and whimpered all at the same time and then slumped back down.

  “Is Jack here?” I asked.

  “Kitchen,” Hank muttered.

  I swung into the kitchen to find Jack propped in the rickety chair.

  “Hi, Jack,” I said loudly.

  He had the same reaction as Hank. It must be a hereditary thing, I thought. I should take pity on him, but I’d rather pester them than have to think about my own problems.

  “I need food. Would you care to make it or shall I?” I asked, knowing he’s territorial about his kitchen.

  He flicked his hand. “Go ahead,” he groaned.

  “Thank you,” I said, rummaging through the freezer for a hamburger patty.

  “Do you have to be so loud?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered, but continued my search in the same fashion.

  “What are you looking for?” he growled.

  “A burger.”

  “On the left. Second shelf.”

  “Ah, here we go,” I said, slamming the door shut.

  He glared at me and then winced.

  “You should have stayed home,” I said.

  “I’m regretting my decision every single minute,” he stated.

  I smacked the patty on the grill. “How do you turn this thing on?”

  “The knob.”

  “There are five knobs.”

  “Pick one.”

  I chose the middle one. The fire lit up in the center. Moving my patty over to the flame, I asked, “Where’s the spatula?”

  “I dunno.”

  I peeked around the kitchen, digging in drawers.

  “For the love of God, Mars!” Jack barked then held his head. “I’m dying.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why you were drinking last night.”

  “But I didn’t die yet, so please be quiet until then.”

  I hid my smile.

  By the time my burger was cooked, well, charred, to be precise, the kitchen door flew open and Andrea stepped in.

  “Hi, Mars. I was told I could find you back here,” she said with a warm smile that slid off when she spotted Jack only a few feet away. “Oh. You’re here too.”

  Jack raised his head enough to glare at Andrea. “It’s my kitchen.”

  “If you can call it that,” she said with a sniff.

  His eyes turned to slits. “I didn’t ask your opinion. Get out.”

  Andrea turned to me with a conspirator’s smile. “Not very hospitable of him, is it?”

  “No,” I answered. “But he’s not feeling very well.”

  “He’s as hung over as his grandfather,” she said. “Drinking to excess must run in the family.”

  If Jack could have moved without throwing up, I’m sure he would have leaped over and strangled Andrea. The poison daggers that were flying out of his eyes looked deadly. Andrea took no notice.

  “What do you have there?” she asked, eyeing my plate.<
br />
  “I made a hamburger.”

  “Toss it,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “I’ll make you another one. It’s not like the mighty kitchen king over there will make it for you.”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed while Andrea took over his kitchen.

  “What brings you by?” I asked.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the cooking competition,” she said.

  “Are you going to enter?” I asked. “We really need more competitors.”

  “I was going to enter, but then I wondered how you’ll set up a competition here. You only have one kitchen with multiple chefs. There’s not enough room to handle us all.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” I said. “That’s a good point.”

  “Well, lucky for you, I have it all figured out,” Andrea said.

  At Jack’s amused snort, she pressed her lips together.

  “Ignore him,” I said. “What’s your idea?”

  “Each contestant would get a set amount of time in the kitchen. It would make the competition a little longer, but at least all the chef’s would get the room and equipment that they need.”

  “Or you could just stand Andrea in the middle of the room,” Jack said with a treacherous smile. “With all her hot air, she could cook everything in an instant.”

  Andrea’s head snapped to Jack. “At least I’m hot. You’re so frosty you could freeze the Nile just by dipping your toe in it!”

  “Frosty?” he asked, standing to step closer. A slight wobble betrayed him. “If I’m so frosty, why do you turn red every time you see me?”

  She gaped and sputtered.

  I inched toward the door.

  He stepped closer to her with a smirk that looked rather devilish with his blood-shot eyes. “Did I finally stun the ever-opinionated Andrea into silence?”

  “No,” she said, taking a step back, which only led him to take another step forward, cornering her. “If I turn red when I see you, it’s because you’re a creep.”

  “I’m a creep?” he asked. “Did you decide that before or after you kissed me?”

  “You’ve always been a creep,” she said. “I lost my head for a minute.”

  “Just a minute?” he drawled.

  “Maybe it was two.” She swallowed. “Go away. You smell like booze.”

  “What kind?” he asked.

  “The cheap kind,” she stated, crossing her arms.

  “Are you sure it’s cheap?” he asked, leaning in. “Would you care to taste?”

  Oh brother.

  I felt the door at my back and was about to run through it when Andrea spotted me. She squeezed past Jack, whose slow reaction allowed her to escape.

  “I’m here to talk to Mars, not you,” she said, dragging me through the door with her.

  She pulled me over to a table in the far corner and asked me to sit, though I think she had already pushed me into a chair at that point. I sat back and watched as she composed herself.

  “That man is a creep.”

  “Yes, you’ve said so,” I replied.

  “I really did want to speak to you,” she said, fidgeting in her seat. “He’s such a boor!”

  “Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?” I asked. “I actually like Jack. But you do tend to rub him the wrong way.”

  “It’s more like he rubs me the wrong way,” she said. “Or we rub each other . . . enough with rubbing. I came here to speak with you about the competition, but also about Evan.”

  “Did he ask you to talk to me?”

  Andrea shook her head. “No! He would kill me if he knew I was here.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “Did he tell you about Harvard?” she asked. At my nod, she took a breath. “Oh, thank God. I was afraid that he was going to sneak off and leave you hanging.”

  “Would he do that?” I asked.

  She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s Evan.”

  Yes. I knew all about Evan’s past.

  “When did he tell you?” I asked.

  “When he got the letter a few months ago. I’ve never seen him so happy. As a kid he used to play doctor. He even made a Harvard diploma and had Dad frame it,” she said, seeming pleased and then stopped to look at me. “Are you going to be okay? Did he say he’ll keep in touch?”

  “Actually, he asked me to move with him,” I said, watching for her reaction, which didn’t leave me hanging for long.

  Her mouth swung open. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “He asked me last night, so I can hardly leave with him in a day or two. But I said I’d give him my answer tonight.”

  “And?” She leaned in.

  “And . . . I don’t know.”

  * * *

  “Eureka!” Mac shouted later that day, plowing into the bar with a broken sign in tow.

  Bob was a step behind him looking rather smug. “We found a clue.”

  “What kind of clue?” Hank asked.

  “A footprint!” Mac stated.

  “Not just any footprint,” Bob added. “They left their mark on the sign.”

  “Anyone could have made a footprint on the broken sign,” I said. “You two were tromping all over the place.”

  “I don’t wear this type of shoe,” he said, turning the sign over so we could see.

  It looked like the mark of a stiletto.

  Odd.

  “Are there any more clues?” Hank asked.

  “Not that we could find,” Bob said. “I’m done for the day anyway. I have to get to work.”

  Mac’s brow lowered. “Aren’t you going to quit that place?”

  “All I do is cook,” Bob said. “I don’t even see any of the action.”

  “It’s still illegal. If there was a raid, you’d be tossed into the slammer with everyone else.”

  “You’re getting worked up over nothing,” Bob said.

  “We’ll see about that,” Mac said, plopping down on his barstool.

  * * *

  “Well?” Evan asked as soon as I walked through the front door. He crossed the room and took my hand. “What’s your decision?”

  I held back a sigh. I didn’t have a clue what to tell Evan. Looking into his pale blue eyes as he waited for my answer didn’t help matters.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I asked, kicking off my shoes and dumping my purse onto the ground.

  “Of course,” he said, leading me to the couch where we both sat.

  “How long did you know about Harvard?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “A few months.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Even when we were just friends, I would have been happy for you. Everyone else knew, but not me.”

  Evan ran his fingers through his dark hair and took a shallow breath. “The truth?”

  I nodded.

  “I knew that if I told you, we could never have become more than just friends. You would’ve put the brakes on even before a first date. I’ve wanted to be more than just friends.”

  “I might have surprised you.”

  “You would date me, knowing I was going to leave?”

  “I might have,” I said.

  “I wasn’t willing to risk it.”

  “Wasn’t willing to risk it?” I repeated. “I know there’s some part of that statement that I should be flattered by, but you took away my choice.”

  “You still have a choice,” he said.

  “Yes. A last-minute choice.”

  He gently tugged me closer, his hand cupping the back of my neck, pulling me into a feather-light kiss. “Don’t be mad,” he said, pressing another kiss. “I wanted a chance with you. Just one chance.” Another kiss followed.

  “And?” I asked, trying to keep my head from becoming befuddled.

  “And . . . what?”

  “Now that you’ve had your chance, where do you see us?”

  He studied me. “I guess in a perfect worl
d, you’d move to Boston with me and I’d finish my degree.”

  “What would I do?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Where would we live?”

  “I rented a small apartment close to campus. We can move to something larger after the lease is up.”

  Lease?

  “You’re locked into a lease?” I asked. “For how long?”

  “A year,” he answered.

  “You were willing to give up Harvard and pay rent for a year on an apartment you wouldn’t live in?”

  He gave a small shrug. “I want to be with you.”

  My mind spun. Harvard. Lease. Dear Lord.

  “Did you already pay for your classes, too?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “I had to register a while back.”

  Harvard. Lease. And tuition.

  Dear Lord.

  “If I drop the classes now, I can get my money back,” he said.

  My heart pounded everywhere except my chest. Even my little toe was beating a crazy rhythm.

  “Mars?”

  “I need more time,” I said, rubbing my chest. Where the hell did my heart disappear to? All that was there was a tightness. A suffocating tightness.

  For a moment, it looked as though his jaw clenched. But the reaction was gone too quickly.

  “How much more time?” he asked. “I don’t have that much time left.”

  “Do you love me?” I blurted.

  His eyes were quick to assess, and then they flattened. “I didn’t mean to push you,” he backpedaled. “We’ll stay here for the semester and I’ll work.” He brought me into a hug that was over as quick as it had begun. “It will be nice to take a semester off. We can decide on Boston later.”

  “Do you love me?” I repeated.

  He groaned and fell back against the couch. “Why is it that women always ask that question?”

  “I take that as a no,” I said, feeling only a twinge of sadness. I couldn’t very well fault him for not being in love with me when I’m not in love with him. But it still hurt a bit. “And I’m not one of your past girlfriends. You asked me to move with you. I’m trying to feel out where our relationship is.”

  “Mars, I want to be with you night and day. I think about you all the time. I have no idea where our relationship is since I normally do my best to stay unattached — until you. Honestly, I don’t have a clue if I love you. I’ve never been in love before so I don’t really know what I’m feeling. But it’s more than I’ve ever felt for anyone else.”