A Matter of Time 06 - But For You (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  I CAME down a half an hour later in jeans and a lightweight black turtleneck sweater. Sam had changed and his hair was wet, so he’d obviously used either the kids’ bathroom or our guest one while I was using ours. He was back in the same jeans but the T-shirt was gone, thankfully, replaced by a long-sleeved one. As always, I admired the lines of the man, and he was not so deep in thought that he didn’t look up and smile at me when I neared him.

  “You’ll be happy to know I have on clean underwear.”

  I chuckled. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “Here, come sit.”

  I planted myself on the coffee table in front of him, and he passed me a file folder that I didn’t open. “First Rico.”

  He shook his head. “That’s nothing. This is the story.”

  “Sam.” I was insistent.

  He rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, knees spread, fingers laced behind his head, and looked at me.

  “You promised.”

  “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Just start at the beginning.”

  He took a breath. “Okay, so we got word on an escaped fugitive, and we went to apprehend him.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It was simple.”

  “Obviously not.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes on mine. “All we had to do was go in and bring the guy out.”

  “But?”

  “But….” He paused, taking my hand in his. “Our intel turned out to be crap, and there were more guys in the house than we expected.”

  “And?” It was like pulling teeth.

  “And they grabbed Rico and had me at a disadvantage.”

  I could barely breathe. “What happened?”

  His smile was wide; the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes got so deep. “What would you like to know, J, because obviously I’m fine.”

  “How are you fine?”

  “Just am.”

  “No, I mean, what did you have to do to remain fine?”

  “I killed the men who were going to kill Rico and me. It’s just how it went down.”

  I lunged at him and heard the deep exhale before I kissed him, opened for him, and whimpered in the back of my throat.

  His tongue slipped over mine, coaxing, stroking, the tangling slow and sensual. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he took me into his lap, into his arms, and I was pressed to his muscular chest and held tight. Sam was so dominant that whenever I submitted, he had to show me that he was there, powerful and strong, ready to take care of me in any way I needed. He was hardwired that way.

  When we parted, he eased only far enough away so that he could look deeply into my eyes.

  “I will always come home, do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re mine, my kids are mine, and nothing and no one will keep me from you guys. Ever.”

  “Make sure.”

  “I will.”

  I shivered hard. “I can’t lose you.”

  “No,” he whispered.

  I untangled myself, moved back onto the coffee table, and picked the folder up again so I wouldn’t sit on it. “So both you and Rico got out of that situation okay.”

  “Yes.” He smiled at me, putting his hand on my knee.

  “You should tell me this stuff.”

  “I’ll try, but it’s hard. When I get done with a day like that, all I want to do is come home, take a shower, and crawl into bed with you.”

  “Naked.” I smiled at him.

  “Oh hell yeah, the naked’s the most important part.”

  “Okay.” I took a breath. “I freaked because you didn’t tell me.”

  “You freaked because you were scared. You can’t be scared if you know how the story ends. You can’t.”

  I thought he knew me. “You could have died.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “But you could have,” I insisted. “Sam. You could have.”

  He shook his head. “This is why I don’t tell you when I almost get shot.”

  “If I have to find out any more secrets today… oh no wait, there’s one more, isn’t there?”

  He groaned.

  I pointed at the folder. “Go ahead.”

  “I’d rather tell you about the Petersons,” he chuckled and hooked a hand around the back of my neck so he could haul me close to kiss me again.

  But I really needed to talk to him, so I squirmed free, shoving him back.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “This is serious.”

  His eyes met mine and I held his gaze.

  After a minute he sighed deeply and fell back against the couch.

  “Sam?”

  “I know. I know this is serious.”

  “And?”

  “And so I promise to just talk to you and not paw you like some hormonal teenager.” He smiled at me. “I won’t grab you and kiss you stupid.”

  “Sam—”

  “No, I know. Normally I like to mix me talking to you about work with blow jobs and my hand down the front of your jeans or kissing you until my balls ache. I promise we’ll skip that today.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t sound so happy about it.”

  “No, it’s not that, I just—this is important right?”

  “It is,” he agreed.

  “Good. Now, about the folder.”

  “All right,” he said, leaning forward. “Do you remember last year a couple of my guys went to Vegas to pick up a witness?”

  “Yeah. There was trouble with that, though, wasn’t there?”

  “Uh-huh. They were compromised at the first safe house before they could get on a plane.”

  “That’s right.” I put my hand on his knee as I thought for a second, as always liking the closeness. “What was that guy’s name…uhm, something Turner?”

  “Very good.” He grinned at me. “Yeah, Andrew Turner.”

  “What about him?”

  “This is him,” he said and opened the folder so I could see all the eight-by-ten glossy black-and-white photos of a handsome middle-aged man with dark hair and eyes. “This is Turner.”

  I committed the face to memory.

  “So they had the marshals there looking, plus Vegas PD, but he was in the wind.”

  “I remember. You were upset because they blamed your guys.”

  “But that never made any sense, because Kowalski and Ryan lost him, yes, but they were already at the safe house, and there’s no way that just happens.”

  “You lost me.”

  “Well, people just don’t find safe houses, it’s not possible.

  Someone had to have tipped off the guys who took the witness, and the only people who knew the location were the Vegas marshals and my guys.”

  “So it was for sure an inside job.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And who thought this, that it was an inside job? Just you and your team?”

  “Oh no, everybody thought so at the time. My boss, my boss’s boss… they could never prove it, but there’s no other explanation.

  Either all the marshals in Vegas were dirty or just one, but somebody sold us out.”

  “But nobody knows who.”

  “Right. Without the witness testifying about how he was removed, we have no case against anyone.”

  “But something new has happened.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “When Turner first went missing, I sent his picture out to every informant I have across the country. People I put into the system, old contacts from when I was with Chicago PD, and just friends, ya know?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, so two days ago, I got a hit.”

  “Somebody saw Mr. Turner?”

  “Yeah, a guy I know in Phoenix recognized Turner from the picture I sent out and shot me a text on my phone that’s not registered to Marshal Kage or Sam Kage.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “Because no one in the departme
nt monitors that phone.”

  “You have three phones?”

  “Yes, J.” He smiled at me.

  “Man, how easy would it be for you to have an affair, huh?”

  He squinted at me. “Really? That’s where your brain goes?”

  “Sorry.” I smiled sheepishly. “But so, when I send texts to you…with pictures… they could look at that?”

  “In theory, yes. But if anyone gets shocked over our private texts… fuck ’em.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned.

  “Are you blushing?”

  “Sam!”

  “You are,” he chuckled. “That’s adorable.”

  “Don’t—get away from me!” I yelled, swatting his hands away.

  “Answer the question!”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, so I got a text message and a picture of Turner that my contact took.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Oh shit is right.”

  “And so what does that mean?”

  “That means,” he said, leaning forward, hands on my knees, “that I have to go to Phoenix and find my missing witness.”

  “Okay.”

  “Because if the witness that was taken from my team is actually alive and well and living there,” he went on, “I need to find him and bring him in so we can have a talk and clear things up.”

  “Like figuring out who took him and why.”

  “Yeah, the why is important,” Sam assured me. “I mean, I’ve checked the Turner case a million times to try and figure out why anyone would go to all that trouble to tamper with the Marshals’ Office for such a small-time bust.”

  “So you’re thinking what?”

  “I’m thinking that Andrew Turner knows something about somebody that has shit to do with the case he was actually involved in.

  I think there’s another story.”

  “So he’s blackmailing somebody scary?” I asked.

  “I would think so. I mean, for sure somebody bigger than his old boss in Vegas, yeah. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “The boss in Vegas, did anyone ever question him?” I was trying to put pieces together in my head.

  “He turned up dead two weeks after Turner went missing.”

  “So technically, there’s no one that Turner would be running from?”

  “Except that he’s still considered an escaped witness until he turns himself in and clears everything up,” Sam explained, his voice low and gravelly. “His new identity never went live, so he’s still running around being Andrew Turner. If anyone discovers his identity, runs him through the system, his exact whereabouts will become clear and marshals will show up wherever he is.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  “So you think that he’s living happily ever after in Phoenix on whoever’s bankroll, blackmailing them?”

  “That’s my guess, yeah.”

  “God, that takes balls.”

  “Yes it does,” he agreed.

  “Okay, so, what’s your plan? When we’re in Phoenix, you’re gonna pop in on your buddy Mr. Turner and bring him back?”

  “If my information is right, then basically… yes.”

  “Is it dangerous?” I was checking because that fast I was worried.

  “I won’t know until I get there.” He sighed, taking hold of my hand.

  It was funny, because everyone who knew Sam—his parents, siblings, friends, people he worked with—they all saw a different man than the one who sat in front of me now. Only with me and the kids did he hug and kiss and take comfort in the simple act of touching.

  “Jory?”

  “So if it comes out that one or all of the marshals in Vegas are dirty, what happens then?”

  “It’s federal prison for them.”

  “Don’t you think they might want to hurt you to keep that from happening?”

  “In theory.”

  “No, not in theory, in real life.”

  “Except that I don’t think all of those marshals were dirty. Maybe one, but not all.”

  “But if the one dirty one finds out you’re onto him, he’ll try and stop you.”

  “Possibly.” He shrugged.

  “Possibly? Sam?”

  “If my whereabouts are being monitored, then yes,” he agreed.

  “But that’s why I have the third cell phone that no one knows about, that’s not connected to me in any way.”

  “There are an awful lot of questions that need answering.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “And so?” I pressed him.

  “So I have a video conference in an hour with my boss, and I’m gonna tell him what I’m gonna do, and he’s gonna advise me, and we’ll go from there.”

  “You trust your boss, Sam?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “Okay, so, when we’re in Phoenix at the reunion, will you be working?”

  “I don’t know yet. If they want me to approach Turner, then yes.

  If not, then no.”

  “When will you know?”

  “I have no idea, but as soon as I get word, I’ll tell you.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t look so sad,” he said softly, putting a hand on my cheek.

  “I’ll be around.”

  “And you won’t be in any danger.”

  “I can’t promise that. You know better.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  He gave me a gentle pat and then got up, took his wallet out of his back pocket, and removed the card that the officer had given him at the hospital.

  “So it turns out you’re gonna have to deal with your van just like you wanted to. I can drop you off on the way or you can get a cab.

  What do you wanna do?”

  “I’ll cab it,” I said after I looked at the card and saw the address.

  “Your office is in the complete opposite direction.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll meet you at your folks’ place at six.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He smiled at me before he bent to kiss me.

  Alone in the house ten minutes later, I called him quickly because I had forgotten to ask about the Petersons.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled evilly on the other end. “The bad guy in that scenario is Mrs. Peterson. She was the one having the affair, and that baby she’s carrying now is not Mr. Peterson’s, since he had a vasectomy after the birth of their second child.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “Nope. He gets to keep his kids and she is going to live with her boyfriend in Parkridge.”

  “So she’s just leaving her kids?”

  “Yep.”

  “And Mr. Peterson?”

  “His mother’s moving in.”

  “Aww, man.”

  “You and Mrs. Martinez and all the other harpies on the block better go make nice. Make the man a casserole, J. Invite him over for dinner. You owe him.”

  “I thought—”

  He grunted, cutting me off. “You’re a crappy judge of character, you know.”

  I did know. “I’m not a harpy.”

  “No you’re not, I apologize. You’re much too cute.”

  I growled, and his rumbling laughter sounded good.

  “Once the cops are all gone—”

  “Why were there cops to begin with?”

  “Mrs. Peterson’s boyfriend came over to get her, and he wanted to take the other kids too.”

  “Mr. Peterson wasn’t letting his kids go with them, I’m guessing.”

  “Hell no. I wouldn’t have either. A man doesn’t let anyone take his children from him, especially not a cheating piece of crap.”

  “I’ll remember that if I ever have an affair.”

  His grunt made me smile. “Never happen, J. You’re addicted to me.”

  Yes, I was.

  “I’m the only man for you.”

  “You’re very conceited.”

&n
bsp; “I am very loved.” He sighed.

  “Yes you are.”

  I hung up on his very smug male grunt.

  When my phone rang minutes later, I was surprised to see Aaron Sutter’s number. There was a time, before we reconnected, when we were just exes, that I would have never thought he would ever be in the friend column. But it turned out that he wanted me in his life and I wanted him in mine, so we had both worked at it. I was glad, he was worth it.

  “Hey,” I greeted him. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at home, why?”

  “I just fired the people who were in charge of my art auction at Darwin Manor next month, and I wanted to know if you and Dylan and Fal wanted it before I went out and shopped around for bids.”

  “I told you to give us that even when you were first talking about it.”

  “Yes, but it seemed too big for your little company.”

  I hung up on him.

  He called back twenty seconds later. “What the hell was that about?”

  “Little company?” I was indignant.

  “Jory—”

  “I hate it when you talk down to me.” I said, trying not to snarl.

  “I hate it when you hang up on me!”

  “So?”

  He growled on his end.

  “So?”

  “Fine,” he snapped at me. “The account is yours, but if you screw—”

  “I’m sorry. When, precisely, have I ever not come through for you?”

  “Shit.”

  “I’ll need the deposit transferred tomorrow and all the specifications for the event.” I was using my Stepford wife voice just to piss him off, the perky one.

  “Fine.” He grunted.

  “Good.”

  There was a silence, our usual one where we both decided to climb down off our high horses.

  “So are you hungry?” he finally said. “You wanna eat lunch?”

  “I can’t, I wish I could. I gotta go down to look at my van and get a rental.”

  “Why are you renting anything?”

  So I explained about the man freaking out from road rage earlier and how I got knocked out in the stupidest maneuver ever, and then explained the most important part about Kevin Dwyer.

  “You want me to come get you?”

  “No, that’s okay, I—”

  “I don’t mind,” he told me. “And this way I can check out Dwyer on my way over.”

  “What do you mean?” He had my interest.

  “Well, we can do some background research.”

  “Like Google him?”

  “More than that. I have people that that’s all they do.”