Intensity

by C. C. Koen

  When we got in the garage she pointed at my tire. “You should call Linc. He’ll fix it and come get you later.”

  “I’m not botherin’ him. Besides, I’ll run back, it’s no big deal.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’ll want to help, that’s how he is. And since it’s you, he’ll be pissed you didn’t tell him.”

  I shrugged and ignored her. It wasn’t a big deal. I could handle simple car repairs. He had other stuff to worry about, and I doubt he’d get bent out of shape over something so trivial.

  After we got in her cool sports car, she revved the engine and drove me to work, breaking every speed limit and racing record known to mankind.

  I got several calls on my way home, resulting in four new accounts. I asked how they found out about me, and even though their explanations seemed logical, they were unusual. Maybe Lady Luck took pity, throwing me a bone. Or it might be a trend, and just the help I needed to hire an attorney sooner rather than later.

  I jogged into the garage, popped the trunk and removed the jack and spare. As I loosened the lug nuts with a socket wrench, a shuffle behind me brought the quick repair job to a stop. The bald man from last night stood a few feet behind me.

  “You’re Serena, right?” His huge smile looked overly pleased.

  On a nod, I rose. “Yes, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. We haven’t been introduced.”

  His solid grip shook my slightly dirty hand. “Sal, I’m in charge of security.”

  Since he’d accompanied Linc and Tanya, he must know what I’d done. Nothing like making a bad first impression. He probably thought I was a bully and put me on his radar as a person to watch. Great, he must’ve come down here for that.

  “I see.” My response came out clipped and cold. Alright, I shouldn’t be such a witch. He hadn’t said anything about it. No reason for him to have a worse opinion of me. “It’s good to meet you then. I’m sorry, but I need to get back to this.” I pointed to the still-flat tire. Geez, that sounded bitchy too.

  He scratched his bald head. “Why are you doing that?”

  “Uh…because it needs fixed.”

  His wide grin exposed nicotine-stained teeth. “The security guys can do that. Hell, Linc would do it.” His beefy frame stood proud and conveyed a message I’d interpreted as changing a flat tire is man’s work.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I can change it myself.”

  He crossed his arms, shaking his head side to side. His hearty chuckles bounced off the cement walls.

  “What’s so funny?” I tapped my foot at his chauvinistic attitude.

  He glanced up. “Nothing, doll.” He stroked his fingers along a scraggly chin and announced, “I can see why the boss likes you so much.”

  Ridiculous. I turned my back on him and picked up the wrench, twisting it up and down real fast.

  Still laughing as if it were comedy hour, he relayed, “I’ll let you get back to it then. See ya around, Serena.”

  After he left, I mumbled, “Guys can do that,” my snarky parroting made me feel a whole lot better. Task completed in under five minutes, I clapped my hands once at a job well done.

  Ha! Stuff it you know where, baldy.

  A much-needed shower on my mind, I threw open the door and found beach-Barbie B.B. lounging on my sofa and glaring over her purple honker. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. In a bad mood from the Sal show, I had no patience left. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” My feet locked in the entryway, I stood my ground.

  She dangled a crystal heart key ring. “I used to live here before moving in with Tanya.” She smirked, spinning it around her finger. “I still have a key.”

  “And you didn’t think to return it to Linc or me when I moved in.” I pointed to her and back to the hallway. “Get out.”

  She scooted her back along the couch and tossed her feet on the ottoman. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk,” she declared, crossing her arms.

  What a freaking witch. Both strong-willed women, it didn’t mix well under normal circumstances, and this wasn’t a normal situation. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  She dropped her flip-flop covered feet with a thump and stood. “I have plenty to tell you.” Her head emphasized each word. “I’ll make this easy, so you can understand.” She enunciated each syllable real slow like I had zero I.Q.

  Determined not to let her antagonize me, I stayed steady and in place.

  Her hands whipped out to her sides, she waved them top to bottom along her body like the models on the Price is Right. “This is not…” She pointed a painted index finger at me. “That,” she spat as if tasting a vial of shit. “You will never satisfy him. I can, will, and do. I know he comes to you, but he’s with me, in my bed, having sex-with-me. Not—” Her mouth transformed into a Cheshire Cat expression as she purred, “a virgin.” She strutted toward me. “You don’t cut it here.”

  Shit, hold it together. My chin dropped to my chest along with my hair, shielding my face. I stared at the floor and hoped she didn’t see the red-hot heat creeping up my neck. The truth rocked me to the core. It ripped open and exposed a gaping wound inside me that wouldn’t be easy to repair. Remember why you’re here. Don’t let her ruin it. My grip tightened on the doorknob, willing her to get the hell out. My brain worked in spits and spatters, and by some miracle I pitched an out-of-my-ass tactful response: “I need to get to work.”

  She planted herself half a foot away and dug the dagger even deeper. “All mine. Pay attention, you already missed the boat. Exclusive—not. Temporary—yes.” She strutted across the hall, then turned and faced me. “I’m the queen. His partner in bed and in business. Soon, I’ll be managing the girls, and you’ll have to answer to me.”

  Bite. Your. Tongue. I held my hand out to her challenging face and waited for my key. She looked down at it and then back up. With a quirk to her brow, she stepped up to me and dropped it in my hand. I clenched it closed, the jagged ridges biting into my palm.

  She leaned up to my ear, and for a minute I thought she was going to bite me, so I lunged back. She mocked, “Who do you think he’s with on Sundays when he’s gone all day, all night?”

  Face blank, a seething fire erupted in my belly from my repressed anger. I motioned with my key-filled fist to her door. “Don’t come back.”

  Jaw clenched, she stared at me and then stomped across the hall. The slamming door rocked her bitter stink against me.

  I flipped her off and rushed inside. Her stench and our exchange scrubbed off in the shower, but the awful reality of my boss with that wench didn’t wash. It lingered and festered.

  Fallon didn’t mind my late arrival. I told her about my flat tire and the whole Sal debacle but didn’t mention anything about B.B. I didn’t want anyone else involved. The less drama, the better.

  My new motto: keep my head down…uh, up and do my job.

  Fallon accomplished quite a bit before I arrived, and we finished everything with ten minutes to spare. Two glasses set on the counter, she nudged my shoulder. “Let’s do a shot.”

  My scowl didn’t hide my distaste. I leaned an elbow on the edge of the bar and considered her unwelcome request. For the first time all day I relaxed, thanks to her. When I had shared my male chauvinistic impressions, her wisecracking urged me on, putting me at ease and giving us a good laugh. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  She snatched the tequila and wiggled it in my face. “Come on, I think after the day you had you need it. It’ll help us get through the long night.”

  Her wagging eyebrows and pout made up my mind. “Okay.” Before I could finish my answer, she started pouring with flair, gliding up and down, then tossing and twirling the bottle before filling the next glass. Her technique could’ve taught the bartenders in the movie Cocktail a thing or two.

  Drinks in hand, I prompted, “So, what should we toast to?” I hoped she had an idea because my mind drew a complete blank.

  Fallon stared at me, her d
evious grin and mind formulating something good. “Hmm…”

  The office door opened; both of us turned at the disturbance. Out strolled Linc and Sal, headed in our direction. They scooted onto the leather stools, positioned front and center. Sal’s expression jovial. Linc’s perturbed. He propped his arms on the bar and clasped his fingers together as he often did, sitting at his desk, relaxed but alert. “Good evening, ladies. We celebrating something?”

  Fallon jumped in, answering in an overexcited and earsplitting voice. “Actually we are.”

  My full-to-the-brim glass held to hers mid-salute, I quirked my brow, no clue what she might blurt.

  She winked at Sal. “A very special toast.” Her glass clinked against mine, and she tilted it first at me and then toward Sal, announcing full of bravado, “To women who can change flat tires.” She laughed and downed her drink, holding her gaze steady on a grinning Sal.

  Funny, funny girl. I snickered and peeked at a scowling Linc before guzzling the clear liquid in one gulp. Proud I didn’t upchuck afterward.

  Linc snatched my glass and slid it across to Fallon. “Fill that up for me and get one for Sal. I have a toast too.”

  Uh oh. He had something cooking in that masterful mind. I set my chin in my hand and waited for the show. Business mode Linc could be best described as intense. A playful Linc—captivating. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  He waited as Fallon filled both glasses. His blue gaze never leaving mine.

  Both men picked up their drinks, ready to salute. Linc turned to Sal, clinked glasses, and pitched, “To beautiful women who can do anything a man can do.” Humor stretched wide across their faces. They knocked it back and slammed the empties on the bar.

  Linc stood and palmed my neck, dragging my mouth to his for a sultry kiss. His temple on mine, he whispered against my parted lips, “See you after work. My place, okay?”

  I nodded, my mouth scraping his in a dazed reply. He strutted across the room, greeting the eager clients. In the background I heard Fallon and Sal whoop with laughter and slap the bar, amused at their boss’s blatant show. Lost in ecstasy my heart and body floated, reaching across the divide between Linc and me.

  Fingers crossed, I prayed they didn’t crash and burn.

  Halfway through the night, the stock behind the bar dwindled. I took off for the storage room located in the notorious alcove. The difference, lights were installed and there wasn’t a shadow in sight. I guessed Linc had something to do with that.

  Wandering around for the bottles, I heard the door open and shut. Damn, this couldn’t be happening again. I rounded the stacked full shelves and came to a halt at the entrance.

  Jax was propped against the door with his arms crossed at his chest, a tattoo peeking out at the edge of his short sleeve T-shirt, and wearing black jeans that fit him way too well. Cool and composed, he lifted his chin at me, inspecting my body like a doctor who needed to perform surgery but didn’t know where to start. If he didn’t have such light blond hair, I would’ve pegged him for James Dean with that blatant, macho stance. This day just went in the shitter. “What are you doing in here?”

  He sauntered over and stood so close, I could feel him. “I wanted to give you a hand.”

  Yeah, I bet he did. He had that look—sex on the brain.

  “I can handle it, thanks.” I took one step back and another while he stalked along, not missing a beat. I threw my hand out to his chest, halting his forward motion. “You should go. I’ve got this.”

  He picked up several strands of my hair and brought it to his nose. Before I could move away, he grabbed my upper arms and yanked me into his chest. “I want you.” His lips grazed mine. About to tell him where he could go, the door crashed open, and there stood Linc with the most ferocious face I’d ever seen.

  Damn, this alcove must be jinxed. Caught in a very compromising position I tried to step back, but Jax pulled me tighter to him, threw an arm over my shoulder and aligned me to his side like he wanted to showcase me to the world.

  Oh hell!

  “Linc, I need on the schedule for tonight,” Jax said with a serious face, and my body stiffened at the implication.

  He hadn’t moved an inch, but his face went from ferocious to volcanic. “No.”

  Final answer. You’d think that would be enough, but no such luck.

  “What the hell?” Jax spit out.

  Linc marched forward and tossed Jax’s hand from me, pulling me along with him. He looked back and barked, “She’s off limits,” and shoved me out the door.

  I glanced back. Jax followed, but not too close. Linc pushed me forward the entire time. “Get back to work, Serena.”

  I stopped and glared at him. He looked pissed, no doubt about it, but I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. I was doing my “work” when I got interrupted. His knuckles ground into my lower back, urging me forward.

  Great, just freaking great. “I’m going…” I said snidely, just as pissed, pointing behind us, inches from his nose. “You’re gonna have to go back there and get what we need. We’re low on vodka and whiskey.” There, take that.

  We stood there for endless minutes. When an intense man like Linc stared, it felt like an eternity. He leaned over, pushing his mouth so hard against my ear, his teeth scraped it as he demanded, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Final warning. Stay-away-from-Jax.”

  I did the same, but shriller than him. “My pleasure!” I stormed off and got my ass back to work—boss’s orders.

  Linc nowhere to be found when I finished work, I crashed in my apartment. Sometime in the middle of the night I felt a strong pressure on my back, and arms wrapped underneath me. Grogginess didn’t disguise a thing. The contour of his body and his scent infused in every pore, he’d been branded on my brain for quite a while. So much so, that even in my sleepy state I knew Linc.

  He whispered the same phrase three times, “I’m sorry, Serena,” at my temple, in my ear, and when he tucked me against his chest, linking our hands together, he repeated the last one against my fingers.

  I fell back asleep with a tiny smile and happier heart.

  Three additional clients joined the ranks today. Once again they had a typical response, mentioning a friend of a friend recommended me. Numbers were my thing, and I gained a lot of experience at Gram’s side, but in all the years we worked together, acquiring new clients in a steady stream wasn’t typical. It could be luck or a fluke, I hadn’t given it much thought before, but now, perhaps someone wasn’t telling me something. There’d be only one way to find out. He should be in his office this time of day.

  An empty lounge felt weird without loud tunes and gyrating bodies. A sense of déjà vu hit me as I approached a semi-open door. Instead of going in, I turned to leave, coming to a stop when I heard my name, said as if someone talked about me, not to me. I should’ve left but my curiosity wouldn’t let me. Tucked along the wall, I listened.

  Please forgive me for being so nosy.

  “I’ll triple the rate. In fact, I want a long-term arrangement with Serena.”

  Hell, it’s Jax again.

  “I told you she’s off limits. She’s exclusive already.”

  You tell him, Linc. I pumped my fist at my side.

  “With who?”

  “Me.”

  Yes, put him in his place—outta here, sucker!

  “What are you doing, man? That’s not like you.”

  Crap. Tell him, Linc. Tell him I’m yours and only yours.

  “She needed a job, and I gave her one. It’s temporary until she gets her finances together. It is what it is.”

  Bile tainted my tongue and a thundering brigade charged across my chest. I should’ve left, but I couldn’t. It was like the people who witnessed a catastrophe and stood there—watching—doing nothing.

  “So what’s the big deal then? I’m a paying client.”

  Every bone in my body shattered and shriveled to the ground at the thought he’d turn me over to Jax.

 
“Don’t. We’re not going there. Not with her.”

  “Linc, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’ll say it anyway because we’re friends. We’ve been through hell together, so listen up. Think long and hard about what you’re doing, and what it means. I’m guessing you haven’t known her long. You have a lot going on and just as much on the line. Have you told her anything?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You done, Jax?”

  “For now…hey, I’m just watching out for your back.”

  “Yeah…yeah, I know.”

  I unglued my fractured body. Tears came in gusts and didn’t stop for a long time.

  My saving grace came in the form of a long walk to the mini-mart after the catastrophic eavesdropping. I bought three types of ice cream: Chunky Monkey, Cherry Garcia, and the pièce de résistance: Chocolate Therapy. Ben & Jerry’s must have a psychologist on their payroll, because I could relate each of their flavors to an event and reason to eat them. Today’s selections definitely related.

  Arms full, I jabbed the elevator button. When it opened, I hurried in and imagined splendid and gigantic combinations. My goal: get to my apartment and eat until comatose.

  One floor up the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the doors opened, and in walked B.B. Yikes! Slumped in the corner from the emotionally draining morning, I imagined my position sent an ill-intended message. Her squinty eyes and crooked smirk spoke volumes. I shifted my stance and kept my mouth shut, staring at the air vent above my head. Negative vibes wafted off her in waves. I couldn’t deal with another mental slap. Not now anyway. My shitty mood rubbing against hers would be worse than grinding a million sticks of TNT together.

  Weapons of mass destruction—total disaster and complete devastation.

  “I heard you got my message.” Of course she would speak first—the instigator.

  Not sure what she was talking about, I ran through my memory banks for any instance but drew a complete blank. “What’s that?”