He punched the button to bring their target back in. She removed her safety glasses and took a long look at the paper. Several shots—his—had hit the center of the silhouette, while the rest had peppered the area around the black form. Those were her shots, along with some that had missed the target completely. He was right. Her body and her marksmanship both needed work.
“Fine,” she said, swallowing her pride. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
He chucked her under the chin. “We need to hit the gym. But we’ll get something to eat first.”
They stopped by her house to change clothes—he kept his gym bag in his truck—and then he took her to a drive-through burger joint in a shady section of town. Feenie had never been there before, but she took the line of cars as a positive sign.
“What’s good here?” she asked when they pulled up to the menu board.
“Everything.”
“That’s helpful.”
“Try the onion rings. Guaranteed to clog your arteries, but they’re worth it.” He turned to the window and ordered two cheeseburgers and a side of onion rings.
Just hearing the words made her mouth water, but she remembered the Jell-O comment. “I’ll have a strawberry milkshake. Kiddie-size.”
He arched his eyebrows.
“What? I don’t want to fill up too much before we work out.”
“Suit yourself.” He called in her order and waited, window down, as the line of cars crept forward. The smell of deep-fried onions wafted into the pickup, and Feenie’s stomach growled.
“So this case you’re working on,” she said, more to cover the noise than anything else. “Is it typical for you? I thought PIs mainly did I-think-my-wife’s-cheating-on-me kind of stuff.”
“I get some of that. But workers comp cases are my bread and butter. Factories in the valley are always getting hit with claims. The insurance companies hire me to look into things and see whether they’re legit.”
“Are they?”
He checked all the mirrors and scanned the horizon with an eagle eye. He always seemed on high alert. “Sometimes. But sometimes they’re phony. It’s all pretty boring, really, but it pays the bills.”
He didn’t strike her as the type of guy to stick with a job he thought was boring. But then again, she wrote obits for a living, so who was she to criticize? Maybe he liked other aspects of his work.
“I guess the clandestine-affair stuff ‘s a little more exciting?”
He pulled up to the pickup window and took out his wallet.
“Not really,” he said. She tried to hand him some money, but he waved it away. “My favorite cases are deadbeat dads. I like tracking down those guys, making ‘em pay up. The suspicious spouse stuff ‘s depressing.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Most times when people think their spouse is cheating, they’re right. But when they come to me—especially the women—they’re hoping I’ll prove them wrong. It’s pretty rare I get to do that. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I nail the guy. Or girl, whichever it is.”
“Woman,” Feenie said, stuffing the bills back into her purse.
“What?”
“You nail the woman. Calling someone’s fifty-year-old wife a girl is a little demeaning, don’t you think?”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “I didn’t realize you were a feminist.”
“I’m not.” Maybe if she had been, she would have had sense enough not to quit her job after she married Josh. Then she wouldn’t have had to start over careerwise after their divorce. “I’m just making an observation. People are always saying stuff like ‘How come a pretty girl like you’s not married?’ It gets annoying.”
He laughed. “Okay, didn’t mean to annoy you. Next time, you can pay for dinner.”
Whoops. He had here there. She was about to get her money back out, but he seemed to enjoy watching her squirm, so she changed the subject instead.
“I wish I’d known someone like you when I was married to Josh. Of course, I had no idea he was cheating, so I guess I wouldn’t have hired you anyway.”
Juarez paid for the food and passed Feenie a cold paper cup and a warm sack. She put the cup between her legs and peeked inside the bag. It smelled heavenly, and again she wished she’d ordered the rings.
Juarez pulled out of the parking lot. “Mind handing me one of those burgers? I’m starving.”
She unwrapped the sandwich and gave it to him before settling in with her shake. The bag sat on her lap, all warm and aromatic. Juarez reached in a pulled out an onion ring.
“You really never knew your husband was cheating on you?”
She sucked on her straw, which immediately became clogged with ice cream. She removed the lid and stirred the shake around. “Nope. Not a clue.”
He sneered.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“There’s always a clue. You probably weren’t paying attention.”
She bristled at that, mainly because she’d told herself the same thing repeatedly in the months following her divorce. But she really hadn’t known. She’d been the quintessential clueless wife, which was part of the reason her divorce was so humiliating. She sighed and scooped up a glob of milkshake. “Guess that about describes it. Dumb blonde. Last to know.”
He pulled up to a stoplight and reached over for another onion ring. She held her breath and looked away while his hand delved into the sack.
“You’re not dumb,” he said. “I bet you’d picked up on a lot of clues, you just weren’t ready to face facts. Where’d you two meet, anyway?”
She stirred her shake. It was good, but his food smelled much better. “At a soup kitchen.”
“A soup kitchen?”
“Yeah. I’d just moved back here after college, but I didn’t have a job yet, so I was volunteering at the food pantry. They used to run a soup kitchen there before the funding dried up. Now they just deliver groceries to people who are homebound. Kind of like Meals on Wheels.”
“You’re telling me Garland was busy feeding the poor when you met?”
“Yep. Pretty heartwarming, I know. I totally fell for his act.” Screw it. She reached into the bag and pulled out a warm, greasy onion ring. It tasted even better than she’d imagined. “Wow.”
“Told you.”
She shot him a peevish look as she ate another ring. “Anyway, we met at the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. After we’d dated a few weeks, he told me about this job opening at his law firm. His father’s firm, actually. It was a receptionist job with ‘potential for advancement,’ or at least that’s what he said.”
“You don’t need a college degree to answer phones.”
“Thank you, I’m aware of that. But my degree was in English lit, so it didn’t exactly open a lot of doors. The job paid better than volunteer work, so I jumped on it. At the time, my dad was on my case about being unemployed after he’d spent hard-earned money on my education.”
“What’d you think of Garland’s law firm?”
“It was okay, I guess.” She frowned at the memory. “The lawyers were kind of stuffy, though. And they treated the support staff like crap.” She remembered Juarez’s assistant. Feenie had met her twice now, and both times she’d gotten the impression the woman was intelligent, capable, and bored out of her mind. “Most people do, you know, which is really poor strategy. If I had my own business, I’d make sure to keep my support staff happy.”
Juarez shot her a sideways look. “You have something to say, spit it out.”
Feenie shrugged. “I think Teresa’s underutilized. She seems too smart for what she’s doing. Why don’t you let her help you with clients? Maybe some of the insurance work you don’t enjoy.”
Juarez took a few turns, winding his way through a part of town Feenie had definitely never been in before. “I wasn’t aware you two were close,” he said.
“I talked to her when I came to your office, and I recognize boredom when I see it. If you don’t give her somethin
g interesting to do, you’re going to lose her. But what do I know? I’m not a PI.”
He mumbled something that sounded like agreement.
“Where are we going?” she asked, changing the subject. Juarez clearly didn’t welcome her business advice.
“The gym. We’re almost there.” He reached into the sack for the second burger. “What did you mean when you said you totally fell for Garland’s act?”
She put her shake in the cup holder and devoted herself to the rings. Maybe if she ate enough onions, she’d make sure to avoid kissing him. As it was, she’d been thinking about little else since he’d stood behind her at the firing range.
“Everything Josh does is for show,” she said. “That’s how he is. He volunteered at the soup kitchen, but I realized later he only did it on holidays when the media was likely to show up. He did pro bono work for his dad’s firm, but only when it was an easy case or something with a publicity angle. It’s all about image. And everything’s a part of his five-year plan.”
Juarez pulled into a lot and parked next to what looked like an old warehouse.
“Are we here?” she asked.
“Yeah. But I want to hear about the five-year plan.”
She slurped up the last of her shake. She hated talking about Josh, but she supposed it was better to get it out of the way. Juarez would just keep prodding until he got the answers he wanted.
“He had these five-year plans,” she said. “He just finished up the first phase, which was getting married and making partner by age thirty-five. Next five years, he’ll be building rapport with business leaders around town and running for city council. He never talked more than two plans ahead, but I’m pretty sure he has his sights set on mayor.”
Juarez watched her, clearly hanging on every word. He seemed to have boundless curiosity where Josh was concerned. Once again, she wondered if he was merely using her for his investigation. His concern seemed so genuine at times, but then whenever she let her guard down, he started fishing for information.
“I take it divorce wasn’t part of the plan?” he asked.
She scoffed. “Wasn’t part of mine. But if he didn’t want me to throw off his schedule, he should have kept his pants zipped. My guess is, he’ll be remarried in the next year or two. Probably to someone well connected and wealthy.”
“Interesting. And I guess his father’s contacts help pave the way for all this?”
“You bet. Look, let’s not talk about Josh anymore, okay? I’m sick of thinking about him.” Feenie reached into the sack and was surprised to find only one onion ring left. She looked up, and Juarez was grinning at her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, offering him the last one.
“You take it.”
“No, you. Then at least I know you won’t try and kiss me.”
Her cheeks warmed as she realized she’d said that out loud. She hadn’t meant to. Except that she had. She was baiting him, and they both knew it.
He leaned closer. “You really think an onion ring is gonna get in my way if I want to kiss you?” His voice was low and sultry.
She gulped. “Yes.”
He dipped his head down and kissed her, and she felt a surge of heat in her lap. She wished she could blame the fast-food bag, but it was empty now.
He was smiling when he pulled back. “See? Onions not a problem.”
“Not for you, maybe. I hate onion breath.” She tried to sound annoyed, but it came out more like flustered.
He grinned, clearly seeing right through her. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
In her former life, Feenie had worked out in the posh fitness center attached to the Mayfield Country Club. Decked out in stylish workout clothes, she had sweated and pumped iron surrounded by peppy music, surgically enhanced bodies, and all the latest fitness equipment.
Chico’s Gym was the opposite of posh.
Feenie looked around in wonder as Juarez led her through the door. The place was a converted warehouse with a concrete floor and fluorescent lighting. Weight machines and punching bags were scattered about, and the focal point of the room was an elevated boxing ring. No one was sparring at the moment, but Feenie got the impression the ring had been well used.
A heavily tattooed behemoth stood guard just inside the entrance. Juarez nodded at him and said something in Spanish as they walked by. The guy looked Feenie up and down, then nodded his head a fraction.
“Was that Chico?” she asked when they were out of earshot.
“His brother, Eduardo,” Juarez said.
“No wonder. He doesn’t look very chico to me.”
“Neither does Chico. They’re pretty hard-core. Chico runs a weightlifting clinic called House of Pain.”
“Yikes. And what’s Eduardo do?”
Juarez shrugged. “Dunno. Keeps out the riffraff?”
Yeah, sure. Most of the gym’s inhabitants looked pretty rough around the edges. All had tattoos. Few were female. She felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her as she crossed the room, silently cursing her choice in workout gear. In a sleeveless yellow tank top and pink shorts, she felt like an Easter egg. Juarez’s hand pressed against the small of her back, ostensibly to steer her in the right direction but in reality to announce to everyone in the place that she was with him. The underlying threat was clear. The fledgling feminist in her wanted to be offended, but her inner wimp felt absurdly grateful.
Instead of peppy music, Feenie heard clanging metal and moans of pain as they made their way to an empty corner. Juarez put her duffle bag on the floor and picked up a big black ball.
“Let’s start with the medicine ball,” he said, holding it out to her. He wore a black T-shirt and shorts, and she tried not to dwell on the way his pecs looked pressed against the cotton. She didn’t see any tattoos, but that didn’t mean—
“Here,” he said, cutting off her thoughts.
She took the ball from him and immediately dropped it on her foot. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was heavy!”
“It’s a medicine ball. What’d you expect?”
She took a deep breath and picked it up. “This weighs a thousand pounds. What do you want me to do with it?”
He stepped back. “Twelve pounds. And we’ll start by passing it back and forth.”
Twenty minutes later, her arms were shaking again.
She’d passed the medicine ball. She’d thrown the medicine ball. She’d done squats and crunches with it held high above her head. They moved on to barbells and a few machines before ending up on the mat again. Feenie managed three push-ups before collapsing.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he finally said. “Let’s move on to some footwork.”
“Footwork,” she repeated, gasping for air. They’d been at it for nearly an hour, and Juarez had barely broken a sweat.
“I’m going to show you some basic self-defense. Now, just stand there while I grab you from behind.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Seconds later, he’d hooked his arm around her neck. She pulled against it, but it didn’t budge.
“You’re wasting your effort,” he said. “You’re gonna be smaller than your attacker, so don’t make it about strength.”
He showed her how to stomp on her assailant’s foot and slip out of the neck hold. He demonstrated how to go for all the vulnerable body parts: eyes, ears, throat, and—of course—groin. They practiced several kinds of holds, and Feenie managed to slip out of a few of them. At one point, she swept her leg around and tripped him. He dropped to his knees and popped up again.
“Not bad,” he said, smiling. “Your agility’s good.”
His breathing matched hers for the first time since they’d started, and Feenie felt incredibly happy with herself.
“Agility’s my specialty. Four years of cheerleading’ll do that for you.”
“Cheerleading, huh? I should have known.”
“Hey.” She picked up a towel and blotted the sweat off her neck
. “Don’t knock it. If I have any coordination at all, it’s from all those dance routines.”
“I’m not knocking it.” He slipped the towel out of her hand and draped it around her neck. “Anything that makes you safer works for me.”
Her throat tightened. Did he really care about her, or was this all part of the act? She watched him for a moment, wishing she could read his mind. But he was good at concealing his thoughts.
The lights blinked. She looked around and suddenly noticed they were the last two people in the gym. The clock on the wall said ten twenty-five.
“I think I’d better get home,” she said, reaching for her duffle bag. “I’ve got some stuff to do, and if I’m not in bed by midnight, I turn into a pumpkin.”
Juarez took the duffle bag from her and shouldered it. It wasn’t heavy, but he’d stashed his gun in it and seemed intent on having it nearby at all times.
“I’ll have you in bed by midnight, but I’m not taking you home,” he said. “You’re spending the night with me.”
Chapter
10
W hat?” she said, scurrying after him. He was halfway to the door when she grabbed his arm. “Juarez, wait!”
He halted and looked back at her.
“I’m not spending the night with you!”
No way. No how. She never should have baited him into kissing her back in the pickup.
“Yes, you are.” He turned around and continued walking.
She followed him to the gym entrance, where Eduardo stood with a ring of keys. He and Juarez exchanged a few words as they stepped outside. Juarez hustled Feenie into his truck and slid behind the wheel.
“Look, Juarez—”
“Save the arguments.” He started up the engine and checked all the mirrors. He wove through downtown Mayfield, making random turns until she was utterly lost. Were they heading to Pecan Street or his place? She had no idea. Then she caught a glimpse of the water, which meant they were nowhere near her house.
“Juarez, I don’t think—”
“You got that right.”
One Last Breath Page 13
