by J. R. Rain
“Okay. Has anything else happened, or has he just been late twice?” I hold up my tea. “Before you answer that, let me take a sip.”
She grins, but waits for me to lower the bottle. “Well, he seemed a little odd the first night. Avoided looking me in the eye, and wound up clingy.”
“Maybe he thought you were mad at him for going out?” I wink.
“The second time he came back…” Mary Lou lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “He had a red mark on the side of his neck.”
I blink. “Seriously? A hickey?”
“Well.” She kneads her hands into her skirt. “I didn’t get a good look at it, but it could be. He was trying to keep me from seeing it.”
“You’ve always been the protector, and I’ve always been the one who could read people.” I nudge her. “I don’t think Ricky would do that to you.”
She gives me the meekest look I’ve ever seen on her before. “What if was Danny? How would you handle it if you thought he cheated on you?”
I stare into space. Other than being utterly crushed? I can’t even imagine my Danny going behind my back with another woman. We’re as close as the cliché gets to soul mates. I―it’s incomprehensible to the point my brain refuses to even ponder the hypotheticals. “He’d never do that,” I finally say.
“See?” Mary Lou sighs. “You can’t think objectively. You and Danny are so perfect together.”
“So are you and Ricky. He adores you and the kids.”
Judge Judy’s voice at the edge of my consciousness scolding the guy for betraying his girlfriend gets my guts in a knot. If Danny did anything like that, I’d make the judge’s tirade seem tame. Whether or not that happened before or after I spent weeks in a deep, dark place, I can’t say. Though, I know Danny would never betray me. Confident in what we have, I smile inwardly.
“I know… I know,” says my sister. “He’s always been so sweet. That’s why it’s so weird that he’s being evasive.”
“How’s he being evasive?” I ask.
“He has a tell.”
“A tell?”
“You know, like poker players,” said Mary Lou. “Let me explain. A couple years ago, his parents wanted to come down from Oklahoma and spend like two weeks. Billy Joe’d been home from the hospital only for a day or three, and they wanted to help with the new baby.”
Ricky’s parents are like six-foot-tall redneck toddlers on a blend of crack cocaine and caffeine. Friendly as hell, but they have strong personalities and a weak sense of personal boundaries. Their son’s an electrician and you’d think he invented the Space Shuttle. His parents still worry about using electrical appliances because they don’t want to ‘drain too much lightning outta the sky.’ They’re sweet, but simple… and opinionated. Visiting for a day or two, okay. Two weeks? Ack!
I cringe.
“Yeah, exactly how we felt. So, Ricky made up this cockamamie story of Billy Joe havin’ some kinda delicate immune system issue and he needed at least a couple weeks before he could be exposed to other people. Well, he was straight up lying to them, right, and his lips kept twitchin’ to the side. When he told me he’d been out with the boys, his lips did the same thing.”
Hmm. “Maybe he’s setting up some kinda surprise for you?” I smile.
“Or something.” She huffs. “You know I should maybe hire one of those private investigators to watch him.”
“Now you’re really getting paranoid.” I poke her in the side. “What you should do, is talk to him. What a concept!”
“Yeah.” Mary Lou averts her gaze, a sure sign she’s going to ignore my advice.
Ruby Grace wobbles into the room. From the way she’s walking, I know right away she’s carrying cargo. She comes to a halt by Mary Lou and fixes her with a serious look. Her fine light brown hair catches the sunlight, glowing like an aura. After a dramatic pause, she lifts her dress to show off her diaper. And, with a vocabulary beyond her years, says, “This is squishy and totally unacceptable.”
I crack up.
“It’s not funny.” Ruby Grace shifts her attention to me. “Poop is not funny when it’s stuck to your butt. It’s unfortunate. No one likes poop stuck to their butt.”
Oh, cruel child, making me laugh. With tears in my eyes, I cradle my bruised rib and careen over sideways, trying to stop. Mary Lou collects her daughter and heads off down the hall. Anthony and Tammy walk in, both yawning.
“I made potty but it’s nothing there,” says Anthony.
It takes me a second to piece together he attempted to use the potty, but still had his diaper in the way. Ugh. I need a changing table for two. “Come on, little man.”
Hey, I might as well go back to work on Monday. Either way, I’m dealing with poop.
Chapter Eight
Stealth
Saturday evening after the kids are sleeping, I cuddle up against Danny’s side on the couch.
I’ve already called Nico and told him I’m going to be in Monday. He sounded concerned, but open to the idea. Desk work shouldn’t be too bad. If, by some odd chance, the FBI calls in another favor, I’m sure he’ll insist I sit it out. But I’m not sparing even two brain cells to work at the moment. Mary Lou’s worries about Ricky have me being uncharacteristically clingy.
The TV’s on, but neither of us are paying much attention to it. For the past half hour or so, he’s been giving me the ‘what did I do?’ look. I’ve been too preoccupied with him to care what’s happening on the idiot box.
“Okay, I give up. What?” Danny glances down at my both arms wrapped around his left.
“Can’t I hold my husband?”
He grins. “Of course, but you’re not usually this… possessive.”
I shrug. “We’ve spent the past year and change burning the candle at both ends. My head’s finally stopped spinning.” I snuggle up to him and randomly stick my nose in his ear. He squirms and chuckles, letting out an “Ow, hey!” when I nibble on his earlobe.
“Oh, I get it.” Danny pulls me over so I’m lying with my back across his lap. “You’re getting used to having a small army running around. You want to catch up to your sister.”
I grin. “I dunno about a third, but I wouldn’t mind a practice run.”
“Is it the shooting?” He strokes my hair. A little worry tints his expression. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you all the way.”
“Maybe a teeny bit, but…” I sigh, staring up at the ceiling… and a green marker squiggle. “Mary Lou said something unnerving, and how did Anthony write on the ceiling?”
Danny leans his head back. “Wow. Kid’s got talent.”
“Ugh. We only painted two months ago. I hope that washes out. Water soluble means it only takes one coat of paint to hide it.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He tickles my stomach, making me curl up. Okay, that didn’t hurt too much. Maybe a little. “I still have some of the paint in the garage. I’ll touch it up tomorrow if it doesn’t. So, what’s bugging you?”
I explain Mary Lou’s worry that Ricky might be cheating on her. “She even flirted with the idea of hiring a PI to tail him.” I chuckle, although it comes out sounding more nervous than I’d intended.
“A PI isn’t an unreasonable option, except for the fact we’re discussing Mary Lou and Ricky here.” He winks. “I just can’t see him cheating.”
“Me neither.”
“I’ve used PIs before, for cases… They come in handy when I need to conceal my involvement until the documents are served. Last time, the guy dug up proof―credit card receipts and a witness statement―the other driver suing my client had been out drinking right before the accident. Here’s a tip. If you want to keep a low profile, don’t stiff your waitress on a tip. She remembered him like it just happened.”
I chuckle. “Wow. Private investigators really exist? I thought that was just like a movie thing.”
“Yeah, they’re real, but the movies overdo it. From what I hear, the job’s mostly internet searching, docum
ent sifting, and digging through trash these days… but I guess the stalking a cheater with a camera thing still happens sometimes. At least, for what I’ve needed them for, they’ve been a lifesaver. Basically handed us that case, for instance. But, I just can’t see Ricky messing around.”
“I can see us messing around.” I trace my finger around in circles on his chest.
His grin widens. We lock lips for a while like a pair of horny teens before we migrate to the bedroom at the end of the hall and close the door. It doesn’t take long for us to wind up naked, and Danny decides to play doctor, checking out my wounded boob. The bruising is almost gone from my breast, and it’s not even sore to the touch. Enough purple remains on the skin right below it that he only gingerly brushes my ribs with his fingertips.
“It looks worse than it is,” I whisper before leaning close and sucking on the side of his neck.
Danny lifts me back up onto the bed and slides up next to me. “You sound like most of my clients.”
My lips break contact with his neck as I laugh, but I bite my finger to keep quiet. The kids and all that. Danny slides down, and the scratchiness of his beard settles between my thighs. Oh… I grab the sheets and stifle a moan. I never imagined Danny would be into anything more risqué than normal missionary, but he surprised me with how quick he became adventurous. I don’t even remember who brought up the topic at some company party years ago, but the next time we wound up in bed I joked about it and… he didn’t hesitate. We’ve even messed around with a little kink, but I’ve avoided anything involving handcuffs since Tammy started walking.
I am not explaining that to my kids. Anything that prevents or complicates a quick dive under the covers is off the table unless Danny and I have the house to ourselves. Judging from his enthusiasm at the moment, he doesn’t really miss the kinky stuff.
After a few minutes of his attention, I’m writhing and grabbing at the sheets, doing everything I can to choke back the deep moan struggling to escape my throat. Sound happens involuntarily when he hits a spot that sends a lightning charge over my whole body. I clamp a pillow over my head to muffle my gasps and moans of ecstasy until Danny slides back up and pulls it aside.
“I’d ask if you’re ready, but it’s all over your face.”
“That’s not where it’s going tonight,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “I was kidding about number three.”
Without looking, I fish a packet out of the nightstand. “I know.”
Danny grins. After he puts on the condom, he warms me up a little more by kissing my neck and playing with my breasts. When he finally puts his weapon to use, I bite his shoulder and moan.
“When did you get so into biting?” whispers Danny.
“Since… I don’t… want to wake… the kids.”
He teases a finger across my lips. “Careful. You might start to like biting me.”
“When did we wind up trying to do this as quiet as possible? Feels like I’m sixteen again with a boy in my room.” (Well, technically, it was mine and my sister’s room.) The sensation of his skin moving against mine, of him inside me, twists my brain into a spiral of uselessness that isn’t going to care about noise. If Danny keeps being this good, I may have to raid the ‘black box’ of toys I hid in the attic for a gag.
He slows and leans down to kiss my ear before whispering. “Since we became a family.”
Something tells me I’m not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.
Chapter Nine
Secret Admirer
After a leisurely Sunday involving a mall trip, lunch out, and an hour or so of watching the kids play in the lawn sprinkler, I return to work Monday morning. Everyone notices the stiffness in my walk, though I don’t explain why my ribs are sore again. Still, the night I had with Danny was worth it. The guys get me a bullet-shaped cake and someone even found the slug that bounced off my vest. It’s in a jar on my desk.
Raúl Reyes, the sixteen-year-old who shot me, is still on life support but officially ‘out of the woods.’ Turns out, I hit him twice, once in the thigh and once in the shoulder. The sniper got him in the chest, but missed the heart by an inch―likely due to Michelle, Ernie, and Bryce all shooting him at the same time and making him twist. The poor kid took five 5.56 rounds plus a .308 from the sniper and he’s still on this planet. I call that freak luck, but I’m sure he’s probably thinking God was involved. Heck, for all I know, maybe something like destiny or fate did happen.
Though, really, he’s just lucky we brought an ambulance with us. If he had to wait for one to get there, he probably wouldn’t have made it. Agent Martin expected drug runners dealing in hundreds of thousands of dollars at a time to be armed like the military of a small third-world country, but they only had a couple handguns… and our primary target, Villero, didn’t even go for a weapon. Probably because one guy in the living room pointed a revolver at the door when it was bashed open, and died instantly.
ICE thought they ‘got one,’ but Reyes was born in LA. Rumor has it his parents are considering a lawsuit since ‘their poor baby’ didn’t need to be shot so many times. I feel for them to a point since I’m sure they don’t understand what their son had been involved in, but good damn luck suing the federal government after your son opened fire on an agent. This isn’t some small-town police department that’ll just settle out of court.
Anyway, Monday proves to be easy and boring. I spend the whole day at my desk except for the occasional trip to the bathroom. Chad’s a saint and goes to pick up Chinese takeout for lunch. Geez. You’d think I had both legs in a cast or something.
Danny sends me a text at about three asking if I’d be up for a formal dinner party. A judgment came down on a lawsuit he’d been busting his ass on for months, and his guy won. Unusually enough, Danny’s client wasn’t the one who initiated the suit. The man’s quite wealthy, and evidently suffered a heart attack behind the wheel and plowed into another car from behind after losing consciousness. The guy was hospitalized for months with severe injuries, but the old couple he rear-ended weren’t so lucky. Both died. Their adult children tried to sue Danny’s client, claiming he was negligent or some such bullshit. It looked obvious to me they were trying to shake the money tree. The son had a substantial list of arrests for petty theft, and the daughter’s clean but not rolling in cash.
Anyway, the client invited Danny and Jeff, plus their two paralegals over for dinner to celebrate. Normally, I tend to expect wealthy people to be scumbags, (I blame my parents’ constant rants) but this guy seemed genuinely nice. He initially offered to pay for all the funeral and medical expenses of the people he hit. Danny texts me that his client even repeated that offer in court after the verdict.
Okay. I guess not everyone with gobs of money’s automatically a douche. I think I have something in the closet I can wear for this. I text back, “Okay, but let me check with Mary Lou first.”
I’m really going to have to take her kids and have them move in with us for a month so my sister can have a vacation. She’s the best. With her agreeing to watch Tammy and Anthony tonight, I shoot a quick text to Danny to let him know I’m good to go.
Rosa hasn’t made contact as far as I can tell with either a counselor or Chad. I bet she’s petrified. Grr. That poor woman. Having her home stolen out from under her and being assaulted repeatedly in her own bed? I wouldn’t be surprised if she burned the place to ashes to cleanse her mind. Maybe by Wednesday, Nico will let me out of the office and we can go check on her.
The remainder of the day is a blur of auditing, mostly phase-ones as I call them. HUD tenants at their six-month mark, where I look for undeclared income, criminal activity, or anything else that violates their agreement and leaves a paper trail I can find from remote.
***
I’ve come to think of LA traffic as one of the inner rings of Hell.
The worst of the damned are condemned to drive up and down the freeway in endless rush hour. It’s 6:18 p.m. by the time I get in the do
or at home, and Danny’s pacing circles in the living room wearing a new-looking black suit. He starts to give me a ‘where have you been’ look, but my eyes are inches from firing Superman style lasers and melting something down.
“Traffic?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.
“Yeah.” Since I know the kids are still at my sister’s, I throw my head back and yell, “Goddamned morons! Argh!”
“Got you something.” He winks. “Check the bed.”
“Ooh.” My mood goes from negative ten to eight.
He grimaces. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but we need to be out the door in like fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, okay…” I jog down the hall to the bedroom and spot a dress box on the foot end. “Oh, hello.” I creep up on it and pull the lid aside, revealing lush red satin… and laces. A lace-up-the-back gown? “This thing’s got laces!” I shout.
“Yes, it does,” says Danny from the doorway.
I hold it up. It’s fancy, with a corset-like middle and a floor-length satin skirt. Looks like most of my back and shoulders will be bare. I’ve got a wrap that’ll pair nicely with this just in case it gets chilly after dark. As fast as I can go, it still takes me about fifteen minutes to change, pretty up my hair and throw on a little makeup.
“That red really brings out your hair.” Danny slides up behind me and wraps his arms around before kissing my left shoulder. “I hope it’s comfortable.”
“It’s perfect.” The dress looks like a corset, but there are no bones in it so it’s nice and soft. He didn’t cinch it too tight either, so I’m still able to breathe. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
We share a quick non-lipstick-smudging kiss. A wrap and heels later, we’re in his BMW and back on the damnable freeway. The client, Vincent Lennox, lives in an affluent section of LA, in a gated estate. I wouldn’t call it over the top, there’s no ostentatious display of wealth like some places, but it’s clear the guy has cash. Enough cash for him to have hired a valet to park the car. Though, I’m guessing that man does other things for Lennox besides simply park visitors’ cars.
