by Leigh James
“It doesn’t bother you that we’re also pretty much trapped out here, if anyone comes for us? Because there’s only one road in, and one road out,” I said, always thinking the worst. Lawyers made a lot of money by letting their clients hear about the worst things that could happen. It was going to be a tough habit to break.
“Not if we have a boat,” Walker said.
I sighed. “Exactly how much money do we have left?” I asked.
“Enough,” Walker said. “Now let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we go back to work.”
* * *
First thing in the morning, I used the coffeemaker in the spotless gourmet kitchen. The owner had kindly left a large collection of different kinds to choose from; I was thrilled to have something as normal and domestic as a hot mug of coffee. I inspected the condo further while Walker slept; there were two beautiful bathrooms, three bedrooms, a gorgeous living room filled with hardcover books and last but not least, a laundry room, complete with a high-end washer and dryer.
I practically sprinted to get our clothes; I ran the wash cycle with extra detergent and very hot water. It had been a long couple of weeks.
I took a long, hot shower myself and used all the nice toiletries that I found in a basket in the bathroom. I started to wonder exactly how much this unit was per month — I hadn’t asked last night — but I stopped myself, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good worrying about the cost. And now that we were here, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I went back to the living room, grabbed a thick hardcover book and my second cup of coffee, and proceeded to look out the window at the beautiful turquoise water. I’d never been to the Caribbean, but this was what the pictures I’d seen looked like. White sand, clear turquoise water, Heaven.
At the moment, I didn’t miss Boston quite so much.
“Hey,” Walker mumbled, coming up behind me and putting his arms around me. I looked at his face: his eyes were puffy and his face was creased; if he’d still had his thick black hair, it would have been tousled and wild.
I kissed his cheek. “I think this was the first time you’ve really slept since we left your house,” I said, and nuzzled my face up against his.
“I don’t ever want to stay in a crap hotel again,” he said, and his voice was still thick. “Did you make coffee?” he asked, hopefully.
“Yes, I did,” I said, “and I’m doing laundry.”
“This is really getting good,” he said, and slipped his hands under my shirt. He cupped my breasts and flicked my nipples with his thumbs; they hardened immediately.
“Mmmmm,” I said, and leaned in to kiss him. Then I pulled back. “I got my period this morning,” I said, laughing and pouting at the same time. “So we aren’t going to be doing that right now.” I took my hand and put it between his legs, lightly cupping his balls. Walker inhaled sharply and I felt him start to get hard; I took my hand away and playfully kissed him on the lips. “We’ll be back in business soon,” I promised, patting his chest. “But first, we have to take care of our real business: finding out who’s guilty, and how we’re going to prove it.”
“I’m used to having you whenever I like,” Walker said, finally looking like he’d woken up to news that made him pout. “And that’s pretty much all the time.”
“Guess we’ll have to do something besides run away from people or have sex for the next couple of days,” I said. “Imagine that?”
“Big Bossy Barbie is ba-aack,” Walker said.
“Yes, she is,” I said. I headed out to the kitchen and got him some coffee. “It’s quite a view,” I said, coming back in and handing him his mug. We both stared out at the water.
“You like?” he asked.
“I love,” I said.
“When we’re done with all of this, and we’re safe, I’ll buy us a house down here,” Walker said. “We can watch the sunset every night, enjoy our freedom, and remember the good old days.”
“The days when we were just starting out,” I said. “With federal law enforcement, the court, the government, Lester Max, Proctor & Buchanan, etcetera — all of the interested parties trying to find us and wishing we were dead.”
“We’ll laugh about it, someday,” he said.
“Cheers.” I clinked my mug against his. “To someday.”
“To someday,” he said, and raised his cup.
Chapter 11
We went to the grocery store after we got dressed. It was wonderful to have clean clothes. I bought enough food for us to stay out of sight for a week; we agreed that we needed to be invisible. As far as we knew, no one had followed us. We needed to take that blessing, our brief freedom, and make the best of it as quickly as possible. We needed to set up a secure computer network and get as much information from April as we could.
Also, I’d been thinking that more information from my side — from my former law firm — would help close the circle of data we were looking for. If Lester Max and Proctor & Buchanan had been colluding during this process — and it sure seemed like they had — we needed direct evidence of this to present to the authorities. Every guilty party needed to be accounted for.
There were, of course, a couple of problems with this. First, I didn’t know where Tammy was and I knew it wasn't safe to try and contact her. People at Proctor & Buchanan would expect that; they’d be watching her. If I was going to get information from the inside, it would have to be from a source they wouldn’t consider. Part of the problem, I realized, was that I still didn’t know who ‘they’ were at my firm. I was going to have to assume that both David Proctor and Norris Phaland were involved. I couldn’t trust anyone there. Except….
I pushed that thought from my mind and moved on to the other problem with the gathering and presenting of evidence. The people we’d need to turn this evidence into were the same people I believed we were running from. Or at least some of the same people that we were running from. How could we present evidence to the government when it was the government that had brought false charges against Walker, and quite possibly blown up his boat?
My head started to hurt. I grabbed several bottles of wine and put them into the cart. Walker raised his eyebrows at me but to his credit, he didn’t say a word. In the next aisle, he tossed a box of tampons to me. Not to his credit.
“Ha-ha,” I said and scowled.
“Don’t be so moody,” he growled at me. “It’s sexy and we can’t do sexy right now.”
I would not admit to being moody, or being stymied by the amount of work we had in front of us. So instead, I grabbed brownie mix, ice cream, and a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the bakery. Necessary provisions for what was shaping up to be a long week.
Walker inspected the cart and smiled at me approvingly. “Actually, this is my kind of moody,” he said.
I scowled at him some more. “Instead of my mood, why don’t you go inspect your surroundings?” I asked. “Isn’t this you’re second time ever in a grocery store? You should enjoy the novelty of it.”
To his credit, he had the decency to go examine some fresh bread instead of teasing me.
After we left, we went to the sporting goods store located on Main Street. From what I could see of Boca Grande thus far, I vastly preferred it to Miami, and possibly even to Boston. It was a small island. We fit in perfectly with our (stolen) Mercedes SUV; everyone who wasn’t in a brand-new luxury vehicle was driving a golf cart. The whole town was expertly manicured, with beautiful old Banyan trees lining the roads. Men wore tennis whites and the women wore brightly-colored patterned shorts and collared shirts, big floppy hats and sunglasses.
It was very civilized even though it was very humid. I looked at Walker nervously before we went into the sporting goods store; he looked like an absolute thug. He had on a white shirt with the sleeves cut off. His enormous left bicep was now covered with that sleeve tattoo, its intricate black lines glistening menacingly in the hot sun. His head was buzzed and he had a beard growing in that gave him a sexy, grizzled, dangerous look. I also happened to know that t
ucked neatly into the waistband of his camouflaged cargo shorts was a rather large gun.
If I didn’t know him and just saw him on the street, I wouldn’t know whether I should run away from him, screaming in fear, or run towards him, hurling myself at his hot body.
Good thing I knew him. I would definitely always hurl myself at his hot body.
“Don’t you think we look a little…out of place?” I asked, looking down at my ratty T-shirt and the jean shorts I’d been wearing for the last two weeks. At least they were clean.
“Nah,” Walker said, ever confident. “We’re going in to buy ammo. I look like I’m here to fish — which is what I’m going to tell them, Nic, so play along.”
He helped me out of the car and I saw an older woman flick her eyes to us, then to the Mercedes. She appeared satisfied; she didn’t give us a backwards glance as she picked through a rack of clothes at a nearby sidewalk sale.
Still, I knew people would remember us. We needed to take care of our business, fast, and not leave the condo again.
In the sporting goods store, Walker picked out a fishing rod and a bunch of related equipment. The bait he was examining looked so gelatinous and smelled so bad that I had to back away from it. I examined sunscreens while he finished up with the fishing supplies and moved onto bullets.
“Morning,” Walker said to the clerk, as he placed his numerous, smelly items on the counter, along with the fishing pole.
“That’s a nice one,” the clerk said, ringing him up. My mouth dropped open as I saw the tag: it cost slightly over seven hundred dollars. Once a billionaire, always a billionaire, I thought.
“I can’t wait to use it,” Walker said, and I could tell he meant it. “But my boat is shot. Are there any for sale around here?”
“You looking for used?” the clerk asked.
“I’m looking for something sturdy,” Walker said. “I might want to go out deep. Used is fine, but I need quality.”
“I know a guy who’s selling one. My brother-in-law,” the clerk said. “He’s up in Atlanta, but he keeps it down here. Can’t get down here enough now to justify keeping it. Let me call him. Wanna give me your number?” he asked.
“Why don’t I just stop by later? You can show it to me,” Walker said, smoothly.
“I get off at four,” the clerk said. “See you then.”
“We’re going to run out of money,” I said, again, once we got back in the car.
“It’s not physically possible for me to run out of money,” Walker said. “I just have to figure out how to physically get more of it.”
We sat quietly as we drove through the Banyan-lined streets, both of us lost in our own thoughts. It was really peaceful here, lushly beautiful. I rolled my window down and stuck my hand outside. Even the air smelled good.
“I’m serious about buying a house here,” Walker said. “That’s the second thing I’m buying when we’re done with this.”
“What’s the first?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Walker said, “but I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”
* * *
We carried the groceries into the house and Walker went through the kitchen to the living room. Last night, the realtor had shown us the laptop that came with the rental and the instructions to log onto the wireless network available through the condominium association. Walker fired it up and typed in the password.
“Is it safe to log on?” I asked, remembering what he’d said about the computer Levi had given us. Right before he’d smashed it to the ground.
“I think, for now, this is our best bet,” Walker said, sitting down and adjusting the monitor. “I got rid of the laptop Levi gave us because it was traceable. I don’t know if someone connected it to us, but they could have. But we left it in Southie.” He shrugged. “Because we’ve taken a break and been off the grid — no smart phones, no tablets, no internet connection whatsoever….”
“…no GPS bracelet,” I added.
“Exactly,” he continued. “We’ve been untraceable for a while, so as long as no one followed us down here, it should be safe to log on. It will just look like the renters at Unit 14 are using the internet. No one knows it’s us. What I’m going to do on this computer is set up a secure, encyprted network. I’m going to contact April and have her send us the files we need, but from her personal computer. As long as no one knows where we are, and no one knows she’s working for us — yet — we should be okay.”
“We need information from my office, too,” I said. “I’ve been thinking….”
“We can’t ask Tammy to help us,” Walker said, gently. “We don’t even know if she’s okay. If she is, they’ll be watching her. It’s not safe.”
“I agree,” I said. “That’s why I think we should contact Alexa.”
“Alexa?” he asked, incredulously. “You mean the senator’s daughter? The one who always flashed her boobs at me? The one who was so jealous of you that she couldn’t stand it?”
“The very same,” I said. “I doubt anyone would expect her to help us.”
“Do you expect her to help us?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Crazier things have happened. She might find it’s in her best interests. Especially if Proctor & Buchanan is dirty. No senator likes to have a daughter who works for a crooked firm.”
A smile broke out over his face. “You are fun,” he said.
I smiled back at him. “So are you,” I said. “So, can I call her? On my TracFone?”
“Let me get the network set up first,” he said. “If she agrees to help us, she’ll need to move pretty quickly. I want to have everything in place.”
“Oooh, can we offer to bribe her?” I asked. “She’s really into money. We could offer her enough to buy a whole designer luggage collection, or something. I sincerely doubt she’d say no to that.” I thought about being able to offer Alexa something she didn’t already have, courtesy of Walker’s vast fortune, and it made me smile. Bargain Basement Barbie will show her, I thought, even though I desperately needed her help.
“I love it when you’re scheming and calculating,” Walker said, “it’s hot. Now get out of here, before I start trying to take your clothes off again.”
I smiled and grabbed a notebook. I sat down to make a list.
Things to Do.
(1) Make contact with Alexa.
(2) Convince Alexa that helping us is in her best interests.
(3) Bribe Alexa with expensive luggage (if necessary, or just for fun).
(4) Find out what she knows about Tammy.
(5) Ascertain what she knows about David Proctor, Norris Phaland and Lester Max.
(6) Make a list of files that she should look for, to cc for us.
(7) Contact April and get a list of files from her.
(8) Buy office supplies for color-coding (because old habits die hard).
I realized that I could make a very long, very detailed list. And that was wonderful news. It was thrilling to finally form a plan, to see it take shape. Even though I was remote, if I could get Alexa on board, I could do this.
I could really do this.
I smiled to myself, enjoying the feel of the cool notebook against my thighs, having a pen in my hand again. Planning. Plotting. Scheming, like a good lawyer should. I might never be able to practice law again, but I knew now that in some ways, it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change who I was or what I’d accomplished, before all of this had happened. Once a lawyer, always a lawyer, I thought.
(9) Make an airtight case against your enemies.
(10) Take them all down.
I smiled again to myself. Revenge is never a good reason to be motivated. It is, however, a great motivator.
It felt good to be back in the game.
Chapter 12
“Honey, I bought you a boat,” Walker called out as he came through the door, several hours later. Buying a boat must have put him in a good mood, because he looked and sounded extremely happy. He stopped in the kitchen fo
r a second and inhaled. “What the hell is that glorious smell? Is it a home-cooked meal?” he asked, coming towards me and sweeping me into his arms.
“Yes it is, Mr. Walker,” I said, formally. “Or should I call you Mr. White?”
“If you’re making me a dinner that smells that good,” he said, leaning down to give me a quick kiss, “you can call me whatever the hell you want.”
I’d made a roast chicken dinner. I put fresh rosemary and thyme into the chicken, along with a lemon, and sprinkled the outside with olive oil and fresh herbs. I’d roasted carrots, fingerling potatoes and asparagus; it did smell heavenly. I’d read the recipe in a women’s magazine once. It said that three of the staff members had made it for their boyfriends, and that their boyfriends had proposed later that night.
Which had absolutely nothing to do with why I made it. It had just popped into my head. I swear.
“That smells so good, I could cry,” Walker said.
“It’s just dinner,” I said. “Nothing to cry about.”
“If you’d been eating fast food and chocolate bars for dinner for two weeks straight, you’d know exactly what I meant,” he said.
“Uh, Walker, I have been.”
“I know, but you’re not a guy. If you were a guy, you’d know exactly what I meant.”
I didn’t argue with him. I just set the table. Then I poured two glasses of wine, made two big plates of food, and put out a salad. He went in and checked the computer and came back out a few minutes later, looking happy and comfortable. My heart ached to see him like that. He should be able to look like that every night, I thought.
When I had thoughts like that, I started to get mad. Mad at the people who were doing this to us. And I’d decided that, given the present circumstances, mad was good.
He sat down and I put his plate in front of him. “You are officially back on the payroll, Nic,” he said. “You’re worth even more to me in this capacity than you were as my lawyer — and you’re a brilliant lawyer. But I haven’t had anybody take care of me like this in ages.”
