In Too Deep

by Janelle Taylor

  Hunter glanced above the awning to the double doors that led into one of the bedrooms. Phil wandered onto the balcony and waved a hand at them. “Take her,” he said. “I’ll win her back after I’m well.”

  Magda looked concerned. “You okay, honey?”

  “No, I’m dying. Have a good time.” He went back inside and closed the door.

  She sighed. “There’s always someone who gets the bug. Ice cubes,” she said, peering suspiciously at her own drink. “From those out-of-the-way places where the water isn’t pure. We hit a little roadside café yesterday and Phil had a couple of tacos and a couple soft drinks with ice. You’ve got to stick to the established businesses to trust the food.”

  “And even then you take a chance,” another man said. “Tom Simmons,” he introduced, grabbing one of Hunter’s hands and pumping it heartily.

  Hunter accepted this information silently, amused that they felt they had to warn him about the hazards of drinking the water.

  “I’m in insurance,” Tom said. “What about yourself?”

  “Oh, shut up,” Magda butted in, blowing the totally bald Simmons a kiss. “Nobody wants to hear about that.”

  “I was just talking,” he responded, wounded, his red moustache looking a little wilted. He went back to his wife who looked about as wide as she was tall. She smoothed her palm down his arm and he kissed her on the lips.

  “Your drink looks empty,” another lady told him, fluttering around. “Let me refill it.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, I insist!” she said, plucking the glass from his fingers.

  At that moment Jenny returned from the phone. “I was talking to friends of mine who are taking care of my son,” she explained, her eyes following the woman as she asked for a refill on Hunter’s drink.

  “How is the little darling?” Magda asked, finally releasing Hunter in the need to refill her own cocktail glass.

  “He’s fine. He’s at a soccer camp with his friend Brandon. Brandon’s parents, the Fergusons, are taking care of him, and Rick Ferguson is a soccer fanatic so he’s been up at the camp once already.” She picked up a tortilla chip and scooped it into the fresh guacamole in an earthenware bowl on the counter. “Janice said Rick made a nuisance of himself, offering advice and butting in—her words, not mine—and they asked him not to come back.”

  “Sounds like Rawley’s having fun though.” Magda settled herself in a lounge chair at the far side of the pool so that she could look upward and check out what was going on at her bedroom balcony. A tiny furrow of worry had appeared between her eyes. Worry for her husband. Hunter, who’d been reserving judgment, warmed to her.

  “He is.” Jenny picked up a bowl of taco chips. “Want some?” she asked, holding it toward him. It was an invitation he couldn’t resist. He came to stand beside her, conscious of the opening in the sarong that showed one slim leg up to the top of her thigh and the edge of her blue bikini bottoms. With more concentration than necessary, he dipped a tortilla chip into the guacamole, way too conscious of the rest of her body.

  She threw him a smile and said, “The Fergusons— they’re the ones taking care of my son—anyway, their dog Benny has been practically living at my apartment, apparently. He’s camped outside the door and when Janice takes my mail in, it’s all she can do to keep him from sneaking inside.”

  “Benny’s your dog?” Tom asked, completely missing the whole point. He and his wife had seated themselves at the table, ready for their meal.

  “Their dog,” Jenny corrected, sharing an amused glance with Hunter. “Except he’s adopted Rawley and me. I told Janice to relax. Benny’s practically part of the family. He can make a mess even faster than my son can.”

  Hunter listened. He had seen the dog. Oblivious to leash laws, it wandered Jenny’s apartment complex, wagging its tail and patrolling. Jenny wasn’t the only person in the complex who let Benny visit, but her apartment was the only one Benny seemed to consider home.

  “How’s Benny going to take the move?” Matt asked. He, like Magda, had chosen a chaise longue. The other couple, whom Magda had introduced as the Brickmans, sat in chairs and smoked, listening and holding out their empty glasses to the pitcher of margaritas currently being served by the houseboy.

  “Badly, I suspect,” Jenny said quietly. To the rest of the crowd, she explained, “I’m moving from Houston to Santa Fe.”

  “Jenny’s opening a restaurant,” Magda put in. “I’m sure I told all of you earlier. Geneva’s. Southwestern cuisine.”

  Two women joined the group who’d been missing earlier. Magda introduced them to Hunter as Lisa and Jackie. Their eyes darted over his body, and they shared a look. He’d been catalogued and rated, and by the looks on their faces, he’d passed the test with flying colors.

  Jenny lifted an amused brow. “You’ve made a hit.”

  “I was trying to.”

  “I don’t think you have to work too hard.”

  “Tell us about yourself,” Tom’s wife, Alicia, said encouragingly as they all sat down at the table.

  “He works for the CIA,” Jenny said, a smile tilting the corners of her mouth.

  “Do tell,” Magda murmured, interested.

  “No, seriously, what do you do?” This was from the one called Jackie.

  Hunter had formulated what he was going to say when he’d received the invitation. “I worked for a security firm in Los Angeles up until a few years ago.”

  “Retired?” Tom lifted his brows and gave Hunter the once over, as if implying he was far too young to be out of the nine-to-five grind.

  “More like on sabbatical,” Hunter said.

  “What kind of security firm?” Jenny asked.

  “Electronics. Home and business installation.” He shrugged and accepted the bowl of refried beans. The meal was family style and tonight’s menu was decidedly Mexican. Carne asada and tamales were served with beans and white rice. A salad heavy with avocados and tomatoes sat next to a covered dish of floured tortillas.

  “Every night it’s a little something different. Usually Mexican. We can make some choices, but it’s always fabulous,” Alicia told him as she scooped up a healthy portion of refried beans.

  “I wish Phil were here.” Magda sighed.

  “How long are you staying in Puerto Vallarta?” Lisa asked. “Is this business, or pleasure?”

  “Pleasure?”

  They all glanced over at Jenny who froze, fork raised in midair. “What?”

  “What do you think?” Magda teased.

  “Oh, no. Don’t look at me.” She set down her fork and lifted her hands in mock surrender.

  Magda drawled, “Oh, but we are, honey. And we’re looking at him, too.”

  That started a volley of remarks about the weather, the state of the country and the plans for the evening, anything to cover up the moment. The conversation went on in a similar vein until most everyone had finished their meal. When individual cups of flan were passed around, Hunter begged off. Jenny took a bite, savored it on her tongue, and made an “mmm” sound which made the cook clasp her hands over her broad stomach and beam at Jenny.

  For Hunter, it was an odd feeling to be part of this eclectic crowd. A loner by nature, he usually avoided parties; and the only reason he’d accepted Jenny’s invitation this evening was because she was his job. A flash of inner honesty reminded him that wasn’t the only reason, but he set his jaw at the thought. He needed to get over that fast.

  Still, he’d enjoyed the dinner and what normally would have been a teeth-gritting experience had been mildly pleasant, even fun. He was mulling that over while the group gathered and ordered taxis for the trip to town. Though he hadn’t minded sharing the evening with them, he was glad to see them go.

  The staff gathered up their belongings and began preparing to leave for the night. In the interim, neither Jenny nor Hunter seemed to know what to say to each other. They waited in silence on the back deck, and by the time they heard the front door close,
the sun had dipped near the sea, spreading its last golden rays across the huge expanse of blue-gray water. Leaning their elbows on the rail, they watched it disappear by degrees, finally fading to a fuschia glow on the far horizon.

  “You really work for a security firm?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “You really plan to open a restaurant in Santa Fe?”

  “I asked first.”

  “I asked second.”

  She shook her head, hiding a smile. “You’re a difficult man to get answers from. I’m still leaning toward the CIA gig.”

  “I just quit my job,” he said. “That’s the plain truth. And I don’t know what I’m going to do next.”

  “Is that what this trip is about? Self-discovery?”

  “Does a trip always have to be about something?”

  She considered. “Maybe not. It kind of is for me, though. I’m just—marking time. Trying to shift from one phase to another.”

  “What was phase one? And what’s phase two?”

  “Oh …” She groaned and pushed her hair away from her cheek. He followed the movement of her hand. She gave him a straight look. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.” More than anything.

  “I’ve been … treading water for fifteen years,” she said, getting right to the point. “I was a spoiled kid who never got over her mother’s death and detested her father’s second wife. I still detest her, I suppose, although it’s more that I just don’t have to like her.” It sounded almost like a question so he nodded in response. “She wasn’t the cause, but I blamed her, and I blamed my father. It’s so trite, I hate talking about it.

  “I was fifteen when my mother died, and I was married by twenty. My father was against my marriage, and of course, that made it all the more attractive. But to be fair, I was smitten.”

  Hunter’s skin grew cold. He glanced away from her, afraid to react. Oblivious, Jenny went on, “He was everything that was wrong for me, and that’s what made it so right. I just wanted him.”

  Michelle’s words floated in his head. You don’t understand, Hunter. I just want to be with him. I feel like I can’t live without him. He’s all I’ve got, besides you, and he’s all I’ve ever wanted …

  “So I married him,” Jenny added flatly, her mouth turning down at the corners, her eyes growing colder. “And it lasted all of two weeks before I knew I’d made a dreadful mistake. Within six months I was divorced. My father helped with that. I had to turn to him. It was—awful. Troy married me for the money he thought I would inherit.” She laughed shortly. “Must have killed him when he realized it would be a long, long time before I ever got one dime.” She swallowed, then added fiercely, “I will never, ever want that money.”

  She sighed. “Well, as long as I’m being trite, let me offer you another cliché: money can’t buy happiness. It can’t even buy peace of mind. It can only buy things, and maybe those things add to your comfort, maybe they don’t. Sometimes it can buy people. My father bought off my ex-husband, and I was glad. But I want that to be the last thing he buys me.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “Gave him a chunk of change to disappear from my life forever.” She leaned her chin on her hands, suddenly looking like a desolate little girl.

  “Did it work?” Hunter’s mouth was dry.

  “For fifteen years.”

  “That sounds open-ended.”

  “If you mean it sounds like it’s not over yet, you’d be right. Troy contacted my father and put the bite on him.”

  “He asked for more money?”

  “Oh, no.” She shot him an ironic look that masked a world of anguish and pain. “He said he wanted to put things right. ‘Make amends,’ my father said. The money demands will come later.”

  “You think he’s going to harass you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I know he is. He’s in Houston now, or was, but he’ll find me in Santa Fe. It’s inevitable.”

  Hunter knew she was right. He wished he could offer words of reassurance, but Troy’s smirking mug swam across his vision and he knew he could never lie like that. “What about your son?” he asked, knowing he was punching the hot button.

  “Rawley’s the reason that my father will give in to the blackmail.” She turned, regarding him straight on. “Troy is Rawley’s father, but he doesn’t know it. Yet.”

  They stared at each other as a breeze started up, playing with her hair, forcing her eyes to squint, the lashes long and lustrous. He swept a strand away from her cheek and held it back for her. “You’re giving me a lot of information,” Hunter said, his gaze lighting on her mouth. He forced his eyes downward, away from the curve of those luscious lips.

  “Am I scaring you?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think I would,” she said with just a touch of relief. He was still as stone. “What?” she asked, suddenly afraid she’d spoken more than she should.

  “Nothing.”

  “Something,” she disagreed, watching him.

  “I’m not good with divulging secrets,” he said finally, scowling.

  She kept her beautiful blue eyes trained on him and he worried that she was looking into his soul.

  “I think that could be an asset in your line of work. I believe you’re in security. And I don’t know if you’re looking for a job”—she laughed faintly—“or maybe a lost cause, but I need someone to help. I guess I’m offering you a job,” she said in a smaller voice. “I didn’t intend that, when I asked you to come here tonight, but maybe at some deeper level I was hoping …”

  Hunter dragged his gaze away from her, staring out to the Pacific to where the sinking sun was just a memory. There was only the faintest violet afterglow. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it will require you to be in Houston until I move, and then in Santa Fe.”

  Hunter stood in silence, wondering how to respond.

  “Listen to me,” she said, sounding annoyed with herself. “I’m pussyfooting all around because I’m scared. I’m scared of what Troy will do when he finds out about Rawley. I’m scared for my son, who doesn’t know the truth about his father.”

  “Which is?”.

  “Well, Rawley knows Troy’s his father. I told him Troy left before he was born, which is the truth. And he knows what Troy looks like—he has a picture I found …” She let the sentence trail off.

  “Then what truth is he missing?”

  “What?”

  “You said you’re scared for your son because he doesn’t know the truth about his father. What truth is that?”

  Jenny started. “Oh. Just that—Troy is an ugly human being. You can’t tell a son that about his father.”

  “You said the marriage lasted six months but that you knew after two weeks that it was a mistake. What happened?”

  “I just knew it was a mistake, that’s all!” She pushed away from the rail, restless and anxious under his steady gaze. “Troy was a fortune hunter. He wanted the money.”

  “Why is he an ugly human being?”

  She froze and her nostrils flared a bit. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself. “He just is.”

  “He hurt you,” Hunter said softly.

  She swallowed. “Yes, he did.”

  “He married you for your money, but he wanted you, too. And it wasn’t in a healthy way.” She shuddered involuntarily and Hunter hated himself a little. But he knew exactly what Troy Russell had done to his sister, and he also knew that Michelle had refused to face it until it was too late. Jenny was braver, but she didn’t want to admit the extent of her mistake, even fifteen years later.

  “I’m afraid of him,” she admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep in her soul.

  “He physically abused you.”

  Tears stood in her eyes. Her mouth worked and she tightened her lips to keep them from trembling. A moment later, she whispered, “I can’t look at all
those things. I still can’t. I’ve got them inside a box, under lock and key, and I’ve put that box on a shelf and shoved it way, way to the back. But when he contacted my father, that box fell down and cracked open and now—now I’m out of control.”

  “Shh … “Hunter pulled her into his arms. His heart beat hard. He wanted to kiss her. Make it all go away for her.

  “It makes me feel so helpless,” she said in a suffocated voice. “If he ever laid a hand on Rawley, I’d kill him. I would kill him.”

  Not if I got there first, Hunter thought grimly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jenny lay on her bed and stared out the window at the indigo sky. She wished she had the energy to either get up and do something or fall asleep. An odd languor had taken hold of her, unusual for someone as selfdirected as she generally was. She felt suspended in time.

  Someone knocked on her door. Turning her head on the pillow with an effort, she called, “Come in,” and Magda entered, bringing with her a whiff of alcohol and some kind of coconut fragrance that was undoubtedly body lotion.

  “I thought you and your fabulous new friend would come and join us downtown.” She perched on the edge of Jenny’s bed.

  “I sent my fabulous new friend home. Well, actually, I think I scared him away.”

  “What? No. He kept his eyes on you the whole time. It was devastatingly sexy.”

  “He thinks I’m an overwrought nutcase.”

  Magda waved her away. “Yeah, right.”

  “I told him about Troy and Rawley. I just blabbed and blabbed. And then I was embarrassed.”

  “Oh, everybody’s got a skeleton or two in the closet. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be afraid of your evil ex.”

  Jenny struggled upward, propping herself against the pillows and shaking her head. “I sound like a teenager talking about her crush. The last thing I need is to worry about whether some guy likes me or not.”