by Kris Calvert
“For me?”
Leo’s body shifted. “They’ve arrived.” Turning, he caught my arm and led me to the Harley. Glancing over his shoulder, I gazed at the gated entrance of Jackson House. Covered in a layer of late night fog, there was no one to be seen.
“I don’t see anybody.”
Leo handed me my helmet and saddled up on the bike. “Exactly.”
Throwing my leg over, I settled my butt on the pillion, wrapping my arms around him with a near suffocating embrace.
“I’d tell you to hang on, cher, but you’re gripping me like you’re ready for a bull ride.”
Leo one-kicked the Harley and I allowed my clenched fingers to roam south where my favorite parts of him met the vibration of the motorcycle. I could feel his torso reverberate with a moan against my open palm. He said something over his shoulder. I couldn’t make out the words over the rattle of the Harley, but I could read his lips. God, I love you.
We sped past the front entrance and circled around to the service driveway behind Jackson House. At the smaller, hidden gate that required a keyed code to access, we were met by what I assumed to be the first of our new friends. He appeared out of the shadows—armed with an AR-15. My fingers dug into the side of Leo’s leather jacket. Suddenly it was all too real again.
Leo opened the garage remotely, and brought the bike to an abrupt stop inside. I was off before he’d killed the engine to rest the bike on the kickstand. Yanking my helmet off, I hung it in the closet where I’d found it and unzipped my leather jacket. I was out the door before Leo could catch me.
“Copy.” The tall man wearing a Kevlar vest with arms as big as my thighs chatted with another, his communication device tucked in his ear. The gun fit snugly against his body, his finger confidently alongside the trigger. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his navy baseball cap. I was speechless. Suddenly our beautiful home looked more like a compound in a war zone than a hundred and fifty-year old antebellum mansion. In the distance, I could vaguely see others roaming the property. Under the cover of the night they were quietly setting up posts.
Leo brushed past me, offering the man his hand. “Leo Xanthus. You must be Robert.”
“Robert Hawk Johnson. The guys are setting up.”
We were walking and talking, but I wasn’t a part of the conversation, merely a tagalong. “Use the guest house by the pool as your command post. There are a couple of beds in there when you switch swifts.”
“Shifts?” I asked, breaking into their conversation momentarily. No one answered me.
“I’ll have someone stock it for you first thing tomorrow. The man who usually takes care of these matters is incapacitated.”
Leo opened the back door and held it for me. Both men waited for me to cross the threshold. I shot Leo a dirty look. If I was going to be ignored, I’d just as soon be ignored completely. Grudgingly, I walked into the house through the mud room and into the kitchen, stopping to turn on the lights.
“We’ve cleared the house, sir,” Johnson said, removing his hat.
Leo turned to me. Sliding the bandana from my head, he pressed a kiss to my temple and squeezed my shoulder. “Why don’t you have a shower, cher? I’ve got some business to discuss and then I’ll be right up.”
I blanched. “You can’t be serious. You want me to go upstairs alone? And shower? In this huge house? After all that’s happened?”
A thick silence hung in the air. Leo’s expression was a blank canvas.
“Simpson can accompany you, ma’am.”
I tore the fiery glare I was searing into Leo’s eyes away and into the darkened hallway outside the kitchen. Pulling the loaded Glock I still carried inside my leather jacket, I racked the slide and watched Leo’s jaw tense. “I don’t need Simpson, Mr. Johnson. And I’d prefer it if you called me Polly. That’s my name. But you’d know that if my husband had introduced us when we first arrived. Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
Johnson’s lips thinned and an abashed flush crossed his cheeks. He had no reason to be embarrassed. “Ma’am.”
I walked away and down the dark hallway, more pissed off than afraid. I’d only taken three steps up the grand staircase when I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Cher.”
“Leo, don’t.” I didn’t turn around, but kept climbing. My shoulders dropped, I labored with each step, my disappointment getting the best of me. “I have a gun in my hand.”
“Will you please stop?” He whispered the words in a hiss.
I stopped at the top of the staircase and stared down at him. He was halfway between the top and the bottom—halfway between me and a job I knew he missed. I just never knew how much until this moment. “Nope. I’ve been given orders to shower and let the menfolk talk and do business.”
“I don’t have time to play games, cher. I’ll be up in a bit and we can discuss this.”
I rolled my eyes and turned on my heels. “Don’t bet on it,” I muttered under my breath.
I walked the hallway, turning on lights as I traveled through the enormous house. Opening the door to the master suite, I hit the switch just inside the door illuminating the room to a warm glow. I stepped inside, my eyes immediately drawn to the bloodstains on the floor. Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought of Oscar.
“I can’t do this.” Switching off the light, I shut the double doors and walked down the hallway. Turning the ornate handle to the guest room I loved the most, I opened the door to the Gold Room. Reaching for the nearby lamp, I lit the room and sighed. It was the first thing that had felt right since coming back to New Orleans. The walls were bathed in golden fabric, the exquisite linens on the canopied bed in the center of the room matched.
I walked into the bathroom and flipped the switch, lighting the crystal chandelier that hung overhead. The white marble sparkled in the night and I ran my hands over the ancient countertop and noticed the dirt on my knuckles when I set the gun down. I really did need a hot shower, but at the moment I was more inclined to soak in a hot bath.
Leaning into the old claw-foot tub, I started the water and waited for it to warm before plugging the drain. Bath salts still sat high on a shelf above the tub and I pulled the cork on the vanilla, tossing the crystals into the water.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was a mess—inside and out. Unzipping the tight leather jacket, I took a full, deep breath for the first time in hours. I tossed it in the corner chair and didn’t waste any time peeling off my pants. The Kevlar in the riding leathers was bulky, hot and heavy. I was liberated as soon as I was naked and free of everything. Leaning into the mirror, I sighed at the dark circles that had formed under my eyes. “Too bad I can’t just peel you guys off too,” I said, stretching my skin to eliminate the few laugh lines I’d accumulated in the last year and a half on the yacht.
I dipped my toe in the water and turned off the hot, allowing the cold to temper the bath. Sliding in, I felt myself slipping away as the heat of the bathwater soothed my body. I exhaled all the negative energy I’d gathered stomping up the stairs and fussing at Leo. Using the soap and sponge in the holder, I washed my body. The grime of traveling overseas and riding on the back of Leo’s Harley slipped away with each squeeze. I dunked my head under the water, holding my breath for only a moment before emerging to wipe my eyes. Two pumps of shampoo into the palm of my hand and I was soaping up my hair and rinsing it under the spray of fresh water. I didn’t want to get out of the tub, but the bathwater felt dirty and I cut the soaking short, opting instead to wrap myself in a white terry robe that matched the one I had on the Andromeda. An X on the breast, it was only missing the Mrs.
Opening a drawer, I found a hairbrush and began the process of detangling my long blonde locks. I didn’t have my own cosmetic bag—it was still somewhere in the safe room—buried with all the Xanthus secrets.
Opening the cabinets, I searched for any kind of hair product. My ends felt like straw from all the salt water and without my own toiletries, I was a little lost. Under the sink was an
old bottle of leave-in conditioner. It wasn’t anything fancy, and I realized it was actually mine. Mine from a life before Leo. Before I went on the run. Before I became Mrs. Xanthus.
The coconut smell took me back to a simpler time when I was living in Shadeland, Alabama with Samantha and Dax. I squeezed it into my hand and massaged it into my hair and scalp. Again, I felt more like myself—my old self.
My hair tangled in my diamond engagement ring and I stopped to take it off and place it on the counter.
I slipped the loaded gun into the front pocket of my robe and padded into the bedroom. Tossing the decorative silk pillows aside, I turned down the bed. It was a simple act, and yet I hadn’t done it myself in forever. I climbed onto the bed, the robe still snuggly wrapped around my body, my hair damp. The pillow-top mattress billowed around me and I sighed with the bed as the covers deflated. Rolling on my side, I felt the Glock stick into my hip. “Dammit.”
I pulled the gun from my pocket, placing it beside the bed. It was then I noticed I’d left my diamond ring on the counter in the bathroom. “Dammit.”
I climbed out of the bed, taking the opportunity to turn off lights as I made my way back. Pulling the chain on the old bedside lamp, I sighed. Holding my left hand in the air, I slid the four carat diamond ring Leo had given me when he proposed. You have taken more than my soul—you are the one thought of my life.
I remembered the words so well. I knew he loved me beyond measure, but from the moment we walked through the doors of Jackson House, I felt a change in him. He wasn’t the happy, carefree Leo from the boat. He was all business, as evidenced by his behavior tonight. I wanted the man I fell in love with here in New Orleans back again. I wanted to be free again. I rolled over and stared at the ring, my gun shining in the light on the table and wondered. What would it take to buy our freedom?
9
LEO
I paced the floor of the main parlor wearing a path in front of my old desk while Robert Johnson, Hawk, stood at attention. “Thanks for setting up so quickly.”
“That’s what we do, sir.”
Finally resting on the edge of the desk, I crossed my arms to contain my nervous energy. “So give it to me.”
“We’re running recon on the property as we speak, but I’ve got six men on the grounds and two to travel as escorts. There are three patrolling the property, one sitting at a vantage point on your terrace and a guard at each gate. I’ll be here, inside the house tonight. Tomorrow Alex Knight and Bea Winter will arrive. He will accompany Mrs. Xanthus everywhere she needs to go and she can stand in for Mrs. Xanthus as needed.”
He flinched as if he wanted to say more, but held back. “What is it?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Seriously Johnson, spit it out. I’m not the kind of man who wants to know about your theory after it proves to be true. I’d rather know now.”
“I don’t think she should leave the compound, sir.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I knew the right way to respond to his statement. I also knew no one, including Hawk Johnson and his team, would be able to stop Polly from doing anything she put her mind to. She was strong willed, stubborn, smart and had a mind of her own. It was one of the many things I loved about her. I stared Johnson up and down and almost felt a little sorry for this Alex Knight guy. If he was in charge of watching over Polly, he was going to have his hands full. I knew I would. “We’ll deal with that if and when the time comes.”
“Knight and Winter should be here by oh seven hundred hours, sir. I suggest we reconvene at that time to discuss the plan moving forward.” Johnson looked to his oversized military watch. The guy was a big as a Mack truck. I slapped him on the back and began to walk away. “If anyone came through the door tonight, I have full confidence you could take them down on your own.”
Johnson laughed. “Sir, rest assured. No one would ever make it to the front door.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Good night, Johnson. I’ll just be upstairs if you need anything, or dial star seven on the main house phone. It will ring the master suite.
“Don’t worry, sir. I won’t be disturbing you tonight.”
I climbed the stairs and wondered just how upset Polly was. In the two years we’d been together, we’d never had a fight. Tonight was the closest we’d even come to having words. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right—not for us. I hurried up the stairs to get to her, gently opening the door to the master suite. I didn’t want to startle her if she was still feeling jittery about being in the house, and I didn’t want to wake her if she’d fallen asleep. God knows we needed some rest. It was in that moment I realized we’d really hadn’t slept in days. No wonder we had words. I felt like shit. I knew she did too.
Entering the dark room, I fumbled my way to the bathroom and found a light. Switching it on, I looked into the master suite and saw that the bed was made. “Polly?” I called out, flipping the main switch outside the bathroom to turn on all the lights. “Cher?”
The room was empty. Looking down at my feet, I stared into the bloodstained Persian rug and hardwood floor. Squeezing my eyes, I allowed myself to go there for the first time. What if Oscar didn’t pull through? I dropped my shoulders in defeat. What a mess I’d made. Leaving Oscar behind to fend for himself after killing The Shadow. And why in the hell was I so cocky to have taken that stupid rug? I walked to the balcony, opening the French doors to the strong night breeze. It was late January in New Orleans which meant cooler weather and foggy nights. I looked down and saw the security detail staring up at me. “It’s just me,” I said.
“Sir,” the guard said from below. “It’s best if you stay inside. One less thing to watch over, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded and stepped back to shut the door. Looking to my right, I could see a light coming from one of the guest rooms. Polly.
Closing the French doors, I locked it and checked the second set in the suite. Turning off the bathroom light, I hurried out of the room and shut the door. One room away, I carefully pushed the door lever down, letting myself into what Polly always called the golden room.
It was dark, save for a small light by the bedside. Polly lay still under the pile of covers, the pillows on the other side still perfectly made. With care, I sat next to her beautiful body. Curled up like a baby, she looked so peaceful wrapped in a white robe and buried inside a mess of Egyptian cotton sheets. I swept the blonde hair from her eyes and noticed it was still damp. Brushing my thumb across her brow, she woke with a flinch, sucking in a sharp breath, startling us both.
Hiding her face, she groaned my name. “Leo.”
I glanced at the Glock on the nightstand next to her. “Look, I’m just glad you didn’t shoot me, cher. Especially in light of how angry you are with me. What are you doing in here? Didn’t like the atmosphere in the other room?”
She closed her eyes again and shook her head.
I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. Me either. I’ll have someone come in tomorrow and fix everything. We’ll make it right again. I promise.”
“Nothing’s ever right again, Leo.” She murmured the words into the stack of pillows surrounding her tangled hair without opening her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
Polly sat up, her sleepy face squinting in the light as she pushed back the covers. “Just what I said. You can’t make anything right again. At least not anything that’s been wronged—like Oscar. You can try to fix it, but it will always be different—changed.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best to change it for the better.”
“You should start by changing that attitude of yours.”
I dropped my head and took a full breath. “I apologize, mon amour. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I—”
“Look, I know this is a lot, Leo. But you can’t shut me out. I’m not part of your security team. You can’t just order me around. It’s me and you—before all this other bullshit.”
“Me and you. Toi et moi”
Climbing onto her knees, she leaned into me, kissing my forehead. I slipped my hand inside her robe, cupping the underside of her breast to give it a gentle squeeze. I thought about her tight body in her leathers earlier.
“Dr. Xanthus, if you think you’re getting anywhere with those dirty hands,” she whispered into my neck, sending a chill through my core. “You’re sorely mistaken.”
“I need five minutes. Can you stay awake for five minutes?”
Polly closed her eyes, slinking back into the covers to pull them under her chin.
“Cher?”
“The clock is ticking Leo.”
I didn’t think it possible to clean up in less than two minutes, but since I didn’t shave, I was in and out, lathering up as if my life depended on it. And after seeing Polly in leather pants and zipping her perfect breasts up into that tight jacket, I was wound about as tight as I could ever remember. We’d been on the road and under stress for too many days. I needed the feeling of my wife wrapped around me, physically and emotionally. I was back at Jackson House, but my home was always in her arms.
I dried off, running a towel through my hair before slicking it back with the comb I found sitting out on the marble vanity. Squeezing the excess water from the waves at the nape of my neck, I found a toothbrush in the drawer and quickly brushed and rinsed.
Naked, I turned off the light in the bathroom and walked toward the bed. Polly lay fast asleep again. I stood there, watching. Praying. I’d never known love until I met her. I’d faked it plenty of times, but no one had ever meant more to me than I did. I was a selfish asshole. I knew it. I fully admitted it. But when she walked into my life, I felt like I’d been hit between the eyes with a baseball bat. And when I thought I’d lost her, I knew. I knew I needed her more than air. She was my life—my whole life.
I stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, cher. I love you.”
A hand appeared from under the covers, reaching out to me. With her eyes closed, she found me and began to stroke tenderly. I was already hard for her, but grew even more excited as she pulled me to her with just her gentle touch.
