by Sharon Sala
When he finally saw the nurse coming toward him with an irked expression, he knew she probably smelled the stink. She was pissed because she was going to have to clean him up. But then she suddenly gasped and ran to the bed.
“Mr. Ito! Mr. Ito! Can you answer me?”
He couldn’t, which was obvious, and was relieved when she immediately paged that doctor. He would come. There would be medicine to help this condition. Surely.
It occurred to him as he was waiting that he was as tied to the bed as Shelly McCann had been to that cot, and just as helpless. He’d intended for her to be afraid. But he didn’t appreciate the shoe being on the other foot.
And then he saw that doctor come running into the ward and thought, Finally.
* * *
Grimley came through the door on the run, knowing that the first few minutes of a stroke were the most crucial. As he approached the bed, he could see the panic in the patient’s eyes and sought to reassure him.
“Hey there, Adam. Looks like we have a situation. Let’s see what’s up, okay?”
Adam blinked, and Dr. Grimley gave him a thumbs-up, then began his examination. Prisoners often tried to fake an illness in an effort to escape, but there was no way to fake the facial droop and the deadweight of useless limbs. After a quick survey of the current symptoms, and his lack of reaction to any kind of stimuli, he looked up at the nurse.
“Is the X-ray tech here?” he asked.
“Yes, Doctor. Full staff.”
“Then let’s get him to X-ray. I want a CT scan on his head to check for brain bleed, but give him a quick cleanup first.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said, and went to get an orderly.
When the nurse returned with soap and water, towels and washcloths, and another followed with clean sheets, Adam was ecstatic. For a man who’d spent his life demanding nothing but the best, getting his butt washed and wiped just hit the top of the list of best things ever.
* * *
Ken and Kaho were resting. Kaho was asleep on the bed, but Ken had chosen to relax in their Jacuzzi. The hotter the water and the more forceful the jets, the better he liked it.
He’d been in the tub for almost an hour when he decided to get out. He was drying off when his cell phone signaled a call. He sat down on a padded bench to answer, surprised it was Grimley, the doctor from the hospital. He sat, listening to the doctor without speaking until he finally paused, waiting for an answer.
“Mr. Ito? Are you there?”
“Yes, I am here,” Ken said.
“As I was saying, we will be moving your son to a different location for long-term care. Any recovery is iffy, and full recovery won’t happen. The brain bleed was—”
“Excuse me, Doctor, but I do not have a son named Adam. I had two sons, but one is dead and one is forever banished from our home. I don’t care what you do with your patient, but he is none of my concern.”
Grimley was a little taken aback, considering they’d been here visiting earlier.
“I don’t understand. You were just here and—”
“That was for my wife. She had something she needed to clear up with him, and now she is done. We’re both done. Do what you want with him, and when he dies, he is a prisoner in the state of Texas. Do whatever it is you do with dead prisoners without family, but do not call us, because in our house, he is already dead.”
Then Ken disconnected and set the phone aside, feeling the weight of that burden leaving his shoulders. He got up and finished dressing, then glanced at the time as he went back into the sitting area. Still a few more hours until their dinner reservation, so he picked up the house phone, ordered a couple of appetizers, then sparkling water for Kaho and some sake for himself.
After checking to make sure she was still sleeping, he quietly closed their bedroom door, turned on the TV and waited for room service.
* * *
Fred Ray had been given the duty of cleaning out Charlie Morris’s desk. Like everyone else on the floor, he was still struggling to come to terms with Charlie’s fall from grace.
Charlie’s partner, Nolan Warren, glanced up when Fred showed up at the desk with a box and sat down in Charlie’s chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Deputy Director Wainwright ordered me to clean out the desk. I guess someone else will be sitting here soon.”
Nolan frowned, then went back to work.
The drawers in the desk were all locked, but Fred had been given a passkey, so he began at the top on the right and worked his way down. Everything personal was put in the box, the things that were usable, like pens, staplers, etc., were set on top of the desk, and snacks or trash was thrown away.
He worked quietly and quickly, sorting through the contents. He paused once to look up and realized this was a view of the place he’d never seen. It was the difference between fieldwork and desk work—the difference between being seen as a sleuth or a secretary.
He glanced at the clock and went back to work.
* * *
When Shelly woke up from her nap, Jack was still beside her, reading messages on his phone. When she rolled over, he smiled.
“Hey, sleepyhead, do you feel a little better?”
She stifled a yawn and then stretched. “I do.”
“Do you still want to go out for dinner, or would you rather order in? I’d be happy with Chinese delivery.”
“Chinese sounds good,” she said, and sat up and brushed her lips across his cheek.
“Let me finish answering this last text and I’ll call it in.”
Shelly nodded, then crawled off the end of the bed and went to the bathroom. When she came out, Jack was gone, but she could hear him talking. She went to get a pair of slip-on sandals, and when she got to the kitchen, he was digging out plates and flatware, getting ready to set the table.
“I’m just getting prepared. So, madam, what would be your choice of food for your dining pleasure?”
“Um, decisions. I think soba noodles with chicken and vegetables, and one spring roll.”
“Comin’ up,” Jack said, then found the number on his phone for their favorite place and called in the order, then disconnected. “We’re looking at an hour. You good with that or do you want a little something to tide you over?”
“I can wait,” she said.
He heard her, but he went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a little tub of flavored cream cheese and then got a sack of pita chips from the pantry. He put it all on the table and then went back to get their drinks. She was on her second pita chip when he returned. He grinned, took the lid off the cream cheese and shoved it toward her.
The next bite she took had a blob of cream cheese.
An hour and ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Jack said, and grabbed his wallet on the way to the door. He came back laughing, with two sacks of takeout.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“We had our same delivery guy. He told me my hair looked funny.”
Shelly grinned. “Not a fan of the spike look, I guess.”
“Evidently,” Jack said, and set the sacks on the table.
“Good grief, honey! What all did you order?” Shelly asked.
“Good stuff. I’ll share.”
The meal began on laughter and ended with a groan. They were both stuffed, and there was still food left over.
“Breakfast!” Jack said, and started closing up the little boxes and putting them in the refrigerator.
“We still haven’t opened the fortune cookies,” Shelly said.
Jack got a quarter out of his pocket and sat back down. Their tradition was to flip a coin, and the winner got first choice of the cookies.
“Call it!” Jack said.
“Heads.”
He
flipped it, then watched it land.
“Ha! Tails. I win,” he said, and then made a big deal of choosing, before pushing the other one to her.
“You have to read yours first because you won,” Shelly said.
He tore into the wrapper, cracked open the cookie and pulled it out.
“Oh wow...listen to this. New horizons await. They will change your fate.”
Shelly tore into hers next, pulled out the cookie and broke it open. Her fortune fell out.
“What does it say?” Jack asked.
Shelly’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
“So enlighten me.”
“Your future takes you to distant lands.”
The smile slid off Jack’s face. “You’re kidding me.”
“Read it for yourself,” she said.
He read it, then looked up in disbelief. “Well, now. That kind of seals the deal, doesn’t it?”
“It does for me,” Shelly said.
“Together?” Jack asked.
Shelly got up and traded her chair for his lap.
“Always.”
Eighteen
Jack came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was looking for the gym shorts he liked to sleep in when he thought he heard thunder. He went to the window to look out.
Shelly was sitting on the side of the bed with a pair of nail clippers in her hand, admiring his nearly bare body and happy their homes were together again.
“Is it raining?” Jack asked.
“Yes, right after you went in to shower. Such is the life of living in the subtropics. Will you help me? I broke a toenail and it’s sharp on one end. I can’t bend over far enough to do it myself.”
“Absolutely,” he said, then knelt in front of her. “Which foot? Which toe?”
She grinned. “Right foot, and the little one that cried all the way home.”
He smiled. “Good one, honey. Okay, let’s see what I can do about this.”
When he bent over, without thinking, she combed her fingers through his hair.
He looked up, saw the want in her eyes, laid the nail clippers aside and dropped the towel.
Shelly reached for him, her heart quickening as he groaned.
She looked up. “It won’t hurt me. I want you so much. I can do this.”
She saw the flash in his eyes, and then he pulled the T-shirt over her head.
“You’re on top,” he said, and lay down.
He grasped her waist with both hands as she straddled him, and then held his breath as she slid down his erection. She was slick and warm and tight.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Shelly’s eyes were closed. “Not yet, but I will be.”
She rocked against him.
He responded with a hard, upward thrust.
When they found their rhythm, it was easy to fall into the dance and even easier to lose track of time. Shelly was lost to everything but trying to catch the rolling heat coiling between her legs.
But Jack’s control was gone. He grabbed her hips and pushed himself all the way up. One thrust, then two, and in the next, the climax slammed into her so hard she forgot to hold on and fell forward, letting that heated rush wash through her in wave after mind-numbing wave. Jack caught her just as he came. He lost his breath, and then his mind.
* * *
The rain passed before morning.
They woke just after sunrise and made love again because they could, then moved into the shower to get ready for her doctor’s appointment. Between the soap and their hands, the last climax was both wet and wild.
Jack left her with a well-loved look on her face as he went to start the coffee, then came back to get dressed.
Shelly was ready except for shoes. She still needed that toenail clipped. When she handed him the clippers, he laughed.
“Oh yeah, the toenail.” He quickly snipped off the sharp point. “We made love instead of making breakfast,” Jack said. “But there’s coffee to go.”
“Works for me,” Shelly said, and followed him to the kitchen, where he filled their to-go cups. She made sure that the lid was on firmly before carrying it to the car.
Jack leaned in and kissed her as she was buckling up. “For good measure,” he said, and winked.
Shelly shivered. What a way to start a day!
They were back on the Loop, working their way to her doctor’s office, when Jack’s phone rang. He accessed the call via Bluetooth so he could keep both hands on the wheel.
“Hello.”
“Jack, this is Nolan. We heard something through the grapevine you might like to know. Adam Ito had a stroke in the prison hospital. They’re not sure what his chances are, but right now, he can’t move or speak. At all.”
“The irony of that does not escape me,” Jack said. “That’s how I found Shelly. Tied to that fucking bed, unable to move, speak or see.”
“I’ll be damned. I didn’t think of it like that. Looks like karma bit him in the ass, big-time. They’ll be moving him to a long-range care facility for prisoners, so I thought you’d want the update. In other news, how is Shelly? No hiccups in the healing department?”
“No physical issues at all,” Jack said, and winked at Shelly. “We’re on our way to get the stitches out of her lips right now.”
“Awesome,” Nolan said. “Give her my best.”
“I will. Thanks for the information. I’ll pass it along.”
Jack disconnected. “That was Nolan.”
“Is anything wrong?” Shelly asked.
“Not for us. Can’t say the same for Adam Ito. Nolan said he had a severe stroke in the prison hospital. He can’t move or talk...at all.”
Shelly’s eyes widened. “So that’s what you meant by irony!”
“Exactly. He’s being transferred to some kind of hospital for prisoners.”
“I hope the only way he leaves that place is in a coffin,” Shelly said, and then shifted her focus to the passing scenery.
Jack gave her hand a quick squeeze.
When they reached the doctor’s office, the visit was almost anticlimatic. Shelly’s worry about it hurting to have the stitches out was unfounded. She was smiling as they left the office.
“It barely stung and I’m starving!” she said.
He grinned. “So am I. What sounds good?”
“It’s almost eleven. Early lunch instead of late breakfast.”
“Mexican?” Jack asked.
“Mmm, yes. Papacito’s?”
“Absolutely,” Jack said.
* * *
Ken Ito had been on the phone all morning, clearing the way to getting Yuki’s body transported back to Japan. Many frustrating phone calls later, it became obvious that either they stayed here until the body was cleared, or they went home and waited for notification it was on the way.
It was Kaho who made the decision. “We go home. They ship. I do not wish to stay in this country any longer.”
“Then we go,” Ken said, gave her a quick hug and got back on the phone, this time to their airline to get a flight out tomorrow. Since money was never an object with them, the outrageous cost of twenty-four-hour-notice tickets was of no consequence.
Once the decision had been made, they packed before they went to bed and were in a car on the way to the airport by 7:00 a.m. the next morning.
It wasn’t until the plane was taxiing down the runway that Kaho breathed a sigh of relief and reached for her husband’s hand.
“It was painful to come with you, but I needed to make this trip to heal my heart, and I thank you,” she said softly.
Ken lifted her fingers to his lips. “It was a hard trip for both of us. You are my heart. I needed you with me, as well.”
And then the wheel
s left the runway as the jet flew up, up, up into the air.
* * *
Alicia Morris carried the last box of Charlie’s belongings out onto the front porch. She wanted to burn them but couldn’t start a fire in Houston without getting arrested, so she was donating them instead, and her dad was coming back to get them. They’d come earlier to get the baby and take him home with them so Alicia could tie up the business that came with death.
She was trying to wipe away every vestige of his presence from her life, but it was harder than she could have believed. Finding their wedding pictures gutted her. Taking off her wedding rings and putting them away in her jewelry box made her feel naked. In a couple of weeks she’d be going home with her parents, and nothing that belonged to him was going with her—except Johnny. What little she did keep was for Johnny...for later, when he was older. He deserved to know what his father looked like. And maybe one day he’d give their wedding rings to his wife. She had yet to get to their safety deposit box, but that was on today’s agenda. As soon as her dad took the clothes, she was going to the bank.
And now she was standing in the living room, listening to the silence. It already felt empty. The ties she’d had to this home died with Charlie. She’d get over the worst of this one day, but she would never get over his betrayal. She thought she’d known the man she married as well as she knew herself, but she was wrong—so wrong.
“What next?” she said aloud, and then remembered the office. They kept everything on the computer, but if there were personal mementos in the desk, she wanted them gone, too, so she grabbed another box and headed down the hall.
She groaned as she eased down into the office chair and swiveled toward the desk. Her body was still healing from childbirth. Life in one hand, and death in the other. She buried her face in her hands and started to weep. Life wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
After a few indulgent minutes of more tears, Alicia pulled herself together—again—and began opening drawers. She had no idea what was in them, because Charlie always paid the bills.
The skinny drawer in the middle was neatly sorted into pencils, paper clips and notepads. Orderly, just like Charlie, she thought, and moved to the next drawer.
