Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  Tim looked thoughtful. “Then, I guess, we'll do this real careful. I want both of them."

  “Lots of luck,” Jacob said. He groaned as he tried to move and get more comfortable. “But, be aware, it won't bother them a bit to spend a couple of million to make you look like the bad guy. Unlimited funds, remember?"

  “Our ten minutes are up,” Abby said. “Come on, Tim. Let's let Jacob and Sue talk for a minute while we bring up the kids."

  As they left the room, Sue moved to the chair beside the bed. Jacob held his hand out and she took it in hers, thanking God for hearing her prayers. “I hope Tim makes everything stick, J.T.” The thought of them getting away with all their evils made her sick to her stomach. But, J.T. was right, and, though she didn't want to, she knew it.

  He closed his eyes, trying to chase away the grogginess that kept fogging his mind. “I love you,” he said. “You staying?” He thought he'd heard her say she was, but it could have been a dream while he was unconscious.

  Half rising from the chair, she kissed him, tasting him, and oh, so glad she could. She could have lost him. “Unless there's a problem, You'll never get rid of me. I'm here to stay."

  “She did mean it,” Andee said from the doorway. “Wow."

  Michael grinned. It was about time his parents made an ace decision. “Wow,” he whispered his agreement.

  Jacob lifted his hand and touched Sue's cheek, trying to let her know with his eyes, what he'd like them to be doing. “The only problem is that I'm stuck in here.” He looked at his children, then around at the sterile, colorless room. “I'd much rather be taking you all home."

  * * * *

  Four days later, because he was a miserable patient, and the doctor couldn't take it any more, Jacob was home and propped up in his king-size bed. He was under the protective custody of a couple of hard-cases though. Sue and Abby kept their eyes on him like hawks tracking a rabbit.

  Fresh paint seemed to give the room new life; the steam-cleaned carpets freshened the air. The entire interior of the house seemed cleansed, polished, new. Now, making his marriage sparkle the same way was his major agenda.

  Sue had fluttered about all day, not once landing anywhere near him. It was in her eyes, though—all heat, loving, caring, driving him crazy to touch her.

  He used a long slender remote to turn on the portable TV in the corner, and was channel flipping when Tim walked in.

  “Pull up a chair, Tim,” Jacob invited. Tim looked tired. It seemed apparent things weren't going well.

  Tim sat in a wicker chair a few feet from the bed. “You're looking comfortable. I'd say the ladies are treating you right."

  “Oh,” Jacob said, “their treating me so well I suspect there's a tracking chip on me somewhere."

  Tim grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Good."

  “Okay, what's happening?” When Tim didn't reply, Jacob went on, “Why are you free this time of day?"

  “I'm on a weeks’ suspension for shooting that sonofabitch—by accident. I also have a gag order slapped on me.” Shoving back in the chair, Tim sighed. “You were right, they sent in big guns from Washington. I've never seen our DA so accommodating. I believe he loves his job more than life itself.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don't believe they can give old Williams any cover, imagined or otherwise. He doesn't work for them anymore, hasn't for several months. We've got too much on him, plus, he talked, giving names and dates we can verify. But, I actually think they are going to make Mrs. Charles look like the wronged saint."

  Jacob shook his head, slowly. “You've got a lot on her, too. Williams backing down on her?” Yesterday Tim had shown him two photos of Williams. Then he had suddenly realized what it had been about the man in Iowa that had kept eluding him. He'd sat in Williams’ office for an audit. He knew it had been a punishment for daring to ask questions about the Delaney account. If his memory had jogged when it should have, he would have went after the guy the minute they'd returned to California. Going after him alone would have been an easy solution, but it didn't do any good to think about it now. The past just didn't come back for a rerun.

  If Williams went free after what he did to Karen, he would find himself with a shadow. Jacob would shadow him until he either made a mistake, or found a new career—in another country.

  “We've got his stuff on signed statements.” He paused. “Damn it, J.T., I don't think it'll matter."

  When the name Kimba Charles came from the TV in the corner, Jacob swiveled his attention toward it. Police, the corner's vehicle, and the reporter were visible on the screen in front of an elaborate looking garage.

  “Just an hour ago the chauffeur for the Charles’ discovered the body of Kimba Charles in her six-car garage,” the blond reporter said. “Mrs. Charles, a government tax agent, was the wife of Keats Charles, a prominent lawyer who was killed in a gun accident five days ago.” She moved sideways so the camera took in part of the huge home and the front sections of the garage. “Friends and relative say Mrs. Charles was completely distraught over the death of her husband. Speculation is that she has committed suicide."

  The cameras switched to the newsroom. “Keep us posted on any updating, Virginia,” the man said, then started a story on sports.

  When Jacob looked at Tim, he was standing, staring at the screen. “There's one the DA won't have to challenge,” Jacob said. He could almost hear the sighs of relief coming from the DA's office across town. “Just think, no more worry about that one. But the shot by accident thing.” He pointed at his throbbing side. “How did this happen?” He didn't believe for a moment that Kimba Charles had committed suicide.

  “Unrelated gun accident,” Tim grumbled. “I'm guessing that you'll need to forget everything. Nasty old guns shouldn't be in the home, J.T., you know that. Gun accidents keep happening one right after another."

  “And the sheriff?"

  “I believe you'll be the only one in his report. I've a feeling the names Benson and Charles won't be there. The term Threats to National Security has been thrown around the past four days like a war must be eminent.” Tim returned to the wicker chair. “So much bullshit being tossed around the office that I felt like I needed hip boots and a shovel. Hey, wouldn't want the public to distrust a highly regarded government agency. It might cause big problems everywhere."

  “Can't say I didn't warn you.” Jacob hesitated. “By the way, his name wasn't Charles. There's a guy named Vinnie in L.A. that knew him when he was a street kid running numbers and drugs. And Sue met him when he traveled from state to state with our friend Bates while getting his education.” Shifting, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he added, “His name was Albert Dent until he moved in on the late Mrs. Charles and took over her life. He had to have terrified that woman for several years before she finally got away from him by dying.” He would have to talk to Sue and the kids and make certain they never bothered to discuss this case with anyone. Whoever reached out to Kimba Charles was certainly capable of reaching out to anyone. And, he didn't believe it would take much of a comment to put someone in danger.

  Tim sat back down, staring at him. “You mean the Bates that shot you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can see that that's exactly who you mean. Damned-nations fire, J.T., it's a tiny world. You left that photo for me with Abby, and Carley filled me in a little on the Aunt bit while I was on my way to the ranch. Didn't have time then to put it together. The guy was a piece of work."

  Having his family together was all Jacob wanted to concentrate on. The only thing worth concentrating on. The bastards would all get what was coming to them when they met their Maker—and they would meet Him. Maybe the world would luck out and they would all kill each other.

  He looked at his friend. “Move past it, Tim. Life is too damned short to waste a minute on them."

  Tim nodded. “Speaking of the shortness of life, I have come to discuss, Abby."

  Ahh, Jacob thought, something good—no, great, could com
e from all this yet. “Abby?” he asked, innocently.

  “I want to marry the lady, J.T. She'll bring up her illness, and I'm not sure what I can do to convince her that I love her, I want to take care of her."

  “Be careful of that last part,” Jacob said. “I have a feeling that the way to my mom's heart is for her to take care of you.” The way she had been fussing over Tim after he ran after the intruder that threatened her, he knew he was right on the mark. Abby had always cared about Tim. The past few days, they seemed to be having a great time together.

  A new light glowed in Tim's eyes. “Guess I'll have to work on that path."

  “What path?” Abby said as she entered the room carrying a tray of coffee and cookies.

  Tim stood the moment she appeared. “Why, a path to the best cookies in California.” He took two and a mug of steaming coffee. “I find myself on vacation for a week, sweetheart. How about a trip to Vegas?"

  She smiled. “Let me think about it. Why don't you come in the kitchen and convince me why I should want to go?"

  He waved a cookie at Jacob as he followed her. “When opportunity knocks, J.T., you must act on it. See you later."

  Five minutes after they departed, Carley's lovely face appeared as she peeked around the doorframe. “Hey, Boss, can we talk?"

  He waved her to come in. “Hey, yourself.” She looked better than she had a few days ago.

  “I think you haven't told her yet,” she said, sitting in the chair Tim had vacated.

  “No,” Jacob said, slowly, studying the brightness in Carley's eyes. “Haven't had her stay still long enough to tell her anything."

  “You're sure about my taking on so much responsibility?"

  He nodded. “I trust you, Carley.” She looked a little uneasy, so he added, “I'll be close by for any assistance you might need. It might take a little time, but you'll handle it—unless you've changed your mind about becoming a PI."

  “I haven't changed my mind.” She looked at him, her eyes filling with a challenging glitter. “You and Sue have it all together now?"

  “God,” Jacob said, softly, “I hope so."

  Carley rose and walked to the door, where she stopped and turned around. “Fear doesn't look real good on you, Boss. In fact, I can't remember you putting it on before."

  She didn't give him a chance to reply, disappearing around the corner,

  You just wait, Carley my love, he thought. One of these days, love might show you what fear really is. He didn't, of course, wish it on her—the fear, that is. He figured she could use the love part, though. It just seemed to be a fact of life that sooner or later love had to be worked at. Carley tried to put on a hard appearance most of the time, but Jacob couldn't imagine love skipping someone as captivating or as giving as Carley. He didn't let himself think about the way Carley ‘knew’ things. The way she came up with things about to happen and they did. The way she seemed to ‘smell’ a rotten personality when one ventured close to her. The way she knew Sue was in trouble, but didn't say more than that Sue was giving her a headache. He couldn't believe in such things.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 22

  Jacob spent the rest of the day trying to “get past” the way things went with the case. He figured that Sue might get to testify about Williams’ being on that airplane, his disguise, his riding with Kimba Charles after arriving in California. Probably mean a trip to Iowa, unless they used deposition. However, the more he thought about it the more the word might thinned. He had talked to Manning before being told about any gag orders. Manning had extradition in the works—Jacob wondered how disappointed the Iowa detective was going to feel when the case dissolved into thin air.

  He also wondered how Dottie was going to take it when Robert's killer didn't get exposed publicly. He hoped she would feel satisfied that the sonofabitch was dead. That both of the Charles were dead.

  He tried to clear his mind of everything negative as he watched Sue close the bathroom door and walk across the floor toward him. Abby and Tim had taken the kids with them to a movie. Abby would keep them overnight.

  He had his wife alone.

  Damn it. He would have to have a hole in his side. He would just have to ignore it the best he could.

  “What can I do to make you feel better, J.T.?” Sue sat beside him on the bed. He had filled her in on all that had taken place. She wanted to scream at the world to wake up, to smell the roses. But she understood how completely useless that would be. He was right. Focus on home and family and hope the greedy bastards killed each other. Maybe, God would help them.

  “Let's see,” he said thoughtfully. “First you could crawl over here closer. Then, you could have your way with me.” He'd heard that in a movie once—seemed like a great line to him. Besides, she was wearing a filmy robe thing over an equally filmy nightgown. Playing fair would mean she had to join him in the bed.

  She glanced at his side. “But you are still in pain. I wouldn't want to take the blame for damaging you further.”

  Reaching out, he took her wrist gently, tugging her closer. “You just don't understand the healing process, Babe,” he said huskily. She had come to grips with a fear only she could deal with, and won. She was home. But would she stay? The unease of the question just wouldn't leave him alone.

  Settling against his good side and resting her head against his shoulder made her feel wonderful. She touched his face. “Is it working?"

  “Um hum,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the palm. “I have something to tell you.” He didn't want to talk. He wanted to strip away the robe thing and the nightgown. He wanted to feel her breasts against his chest, and run his hands over every inch of her.

  Freeing her hand from his, she ran her fingers down the sheet until they touched the aroused part of him that lay beneath. “Talk?” Sue didn't want to talk. She wanted to kiss him, to taste him, to enjoy the wonder of his arms holding her. She, also, didn't want to cause him any pain.

  He cupped her breast in his hand, running his thumb slowly across the nipple, feeling it tighten, responding. “There's been a change in the way I work,” he said huskily. “I have taken up a new career—part time."

  Sue pushed up on her elbow, but not out of the reach of his hand, or having to move hers from the sheet below his waist. “I'm listening.” Anyway, she was really trying to listen, but his heat, and he way his eyes dilated, were very distracting.

  “First, Carley will do most of the investigative work. We'll decide together which cases we'll take, and we're going to be choosy. Second, the college in Fresno as offered me a job teaching a class three evenings a week. They say it could become a day class, eventually.” He leaned forward, slightly. Nibbling teasingly at her lips, he added, “You might get tired of having me around too much."

  She ran her tongue across his lower lip, forcing herself to keep it to that. “Never,” she said. “Why are you doing this?"

  Raising his hand from her breast and resting it at the side of her neck, he looked into her eyes—hot, steamy, love-filled eyes. “Above all else, I want to keep my wife.”

  She did kiss him then. When she finally needed air, she said, “Change the way you do things because you want to, J.T. I am not going anywhere. When Albert Dent closed his eyes for the last time, something heavy inside me seemed to float away. Besides, I think I'm getting hooked on your job—” She saw a flash of doubt in his eyes that scared her, however, she didn't show it.

  “Didn't I shoot a man for you? How many wives can say that to their husbands? You must know I love you after what we've been through this past week,” she teased, really only half teasing in her mind. Keats Charles—Dent, threatened, then harmed her man. He deserved what he got. Her words sounded brave, but she'd upchucked for fifteen minutes at the hospital—when she'd slowed down enough for what had happened to sink in. Really sink in. She'd found immense relief, then, when they told her that her bullet had actually hit the bastard in the shoulder, and wouldn't have kille
d him if it hadn't bounced off some bone and split a vital blood vessel. “I don't need proof that you love me. I don't want to lose you because you're not doing the work you love.”

  She sobered, all teasing leaving her intent. “Always,” she whispered, “I'll be there.” And, she would be. Nothing could keep her from being the other half of this partnership.

  He ran his fingers softly down her cheek. “I'm truly sorry you had to go through that. If I could have changed the situation, believe me, I would have.” His fingers slid under her chin, lifting gently. “And, believe this, I won't be giving up anything.” He smiled. “I figured the way I have it set up now, it'll be better for everybody. Teaching's been on my mind ever since Carley started working with me. I like the challenge.”

  He tugged her back against his side. “Now, and forever,” he breathed near her ear, his fingers tracing the delicate buttons in a line down from her neck to her waist. “I need you. Think we can remove this stuff between us and work on making love in the least painful manner? Might have to get a little creative—"

  She pulled her hand back, then slid it under the sheet to grip him gently, but firmly, and said, “You have my undivided attention. I love being creative."

  With love building their house strong, they couldn't help but make it, he thought. The last of his fear of losing her evaporated as he teased her lips apart and their tongues met, melded.

  Always and forever.... He felt invincible.

  They could handle anything the world threw at them. The family was lovingly intact—Cool, to quote Andee, everything was downright cool.

  —THE END—

  * * *

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