Outside the Lines

by Lisa Desrochers

  “Less talking, more fighting!” Danni shouts.

  I glance over my shoulder at her. That same sour look is back on her face. She’s definitely jealous. What I’m not sure of is whether it’s because there’s something between her and Chuck, or that she wants there to be something between them.

  In the spit second before I look back at Chuck, his gloved fist cuts up from underneath and connects with the underside of my jaw, knocking me back a step.

  The asshole likes the sneak attack.

  I’m mid-stagger when he launches into me. His shoulder, like a missile to my gut, knocks the wind out of me. I go down hard and the next instant, his fists are pistoning into my face.

  I manage an uppercut that throws off his balance. He rolls over his shoulder and to his feet, unleashing a kick into my ribs as I try to stand. When he comes at me again, I grab his leg, twist, send him to the mat. I stomp his chest. In the second all the air rushes out of his lungs, I twist his arm, rolling him to his stomach. I crank it behind him, force his face to the mat.

  I plant my knee in his back and look up at Danni. “Why are you still standing there? You should have run screaming for the limo by now.”

  She nods. “I guess that’s a pass.”

  I let go of Chuck. We both gain our feet.

  His face goes all protective big brother. “I went easy because you need this job and I think you can do it. But if you hurt Adri, just know, I will kill you.”

  I want to hate this guy, but if he’s this protective of Adri, I can’t.

  We shuck off our gear. My suspicion is confirmed when Danni plucks at Chuck’s sweaty T-shirt.

  “So, tonight? Around ten?” she asks.

  “Sounds about right,” he answers.

  A suggestive smile tugs at Danni’s mouth. “Anything I should bring?”

  He rakes his sweaty hair off his forehead, shrugs. “You know what I need.”

  I start toward the exit, giving them some space. Chuck follows me. No good-bye kiss, not even a hug, which makes me wonder what their deal is.

  “Davidson!” Elaine calls as we’re walking past the offices on my way to the door. I turn and see her moving toward me with a folder in her hand.

  “Have a good one, bro,” Chuck says holding up his fist. “If you ever want to grab a beer or whatever, give me a call.”

  I bump his knuckles.

  He turns to Elaine and pulls her into a one-armed hug. “You just keep getting hotter.”

  She lets out a sultry chuckle. “Watch yourself. Hitting on the boss is grounds for dismissal.”

  “I’m more worried about Steve,” he says with a wink as he lets her go. “We’re working together tomorrow and he’ll be armed.”

  She laughs again. “You all set for Atlanta?”

  He nods. “He’s picking up the client and flying us out at oh-seven-thirty.”

  “Go get some rest,” she tells him.

  He gives me a wave as he heads out the door.

  I turn to Elaine. “So, you’ve got a job for me?”

  She holds up the folder. “A client’s coming in to Miami for a charity dinner next Saturday. You’ll leave here at one and go with the driver to pick her up at the airport. She’ll need an hour or so at her hotel to change, then you’ll escort her to the dinner. When it’s over, you’ll deposit her back at the hotel. You should be done and back here by one in the morning.”

  “No overnight?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Sounds pretty routine. Why does she think she needs a bodyguard?”

  She hands me the folder. I’ve never listened to note of country music, but I know the name. “She’s had bad experiences with rabid fans. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re just there to intimidate the crazies into thinking twice before they try to grope your client.”

  “I can probably handle that,” I say, thumbing through the papers.

  “That’s her itinerary and a map of the route our driver will take. You need to make your dry run of the event venue tomorrow at about the time of the dinner,” she says, pointing at the itinerary, “and put together your risk assessment by Monday so we have time to make any necessary adjustments.”

  I hold up the folder. “Got it, boss.”

  *

  I pull into the school lot on my way home and wait for Sherm. The image of Adri on her desk with her legs wrapped around me makes me hate myself a little more for fucking things up. Sherm comes out and climbs in.

  “How’s the arm?”

  He glances at me and shrugs. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much—he still hasn’t spoken directly to me—but since I brought the puppies home, he’s been less withdrawn. And in every aspect of his life that isn’t me, he seems happier. He’s settling in. Getting comfortable.

  Since we got here, I’ve thought of all this as very temporary. I had visions of going back to Chicago in an old-school blaze of glory. Reclaiming the Delgado empire. But I’m starting to realize that old school may not be the best option. In Chicago, I felt untouchable. The Delgado name was the armor that protected us. But I’m just now realizing that sense of security was an illusion. We were never safe.

  I feel like I should rage against the machine, but the truth is, my seemingly endless reservoir of vengeance is starting to bleed out. Maybe on some level I knew we’d have to stay here for a while.

  Or maybe I wanted to.

  The thought is fleeting, but I can’t deny it. The Life is all I’ve ever known. It’s all I thought I wanted. I can’t even begin to see what other possible paths there are. All I know for sure is that, in the last week, I’ve been able to really breathe for the first time I can remember. I feel like admitting it makes me a coward, but what I’m feeling deep down at the bottom of everything is relief. If we have to wait things out here, bide our time and formulate a new plan, that might not be a worst-case scenario.

  When we pull into the driveway, the dogs run out to greet us at the car. Sherm scoops Burn into his arms. Grant is sitting on the porch with his feet up on the rail, his thumbs flying over the screen of his phone. He doesn’t look up as we pass.

  Inside, the kitchen is all of a sudden tangerine orange. Ulie’s got the laptop open in front of her and vegetables strewn all over the counter in varying stages of sliced and diced.

  “You couldn’t stop at the bedroom,” I say, surveying her new paint job.

  “Nope,” she says with a smirk, peeling an onion. “And the living room’s going to be daffodil. I already bought the paint.”

  I slide onto one of the stools, turning the laptop so I can see the screen. “Cannazzo,” I read, then look up at her.

  She smiles. “Mom’s was always so good.”

  “Those peels are all going in the trash, right?” I ask before the lump can fully rise in my throat. We now have a supply of Drano, but it would be great not to have to use it. “Nothing down the sink?”

  She glowers at me.

  An open tab on the browser catches my attention. I click on it. It’s a Chicago Tribune story about Victor Savoca’s trial. There’s an archived picture of Victor and his son, Oliver, standing next to the mayor at the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the Savoca Civic Center a year and a half ago.

  “Why is this page up?” I ask, turning the laptop back to Ulie.

  She shrugs, tears streaming down her face as she chops onions. “No clue. I just grabbed the computer from Lee’s room.”

  I fish my phone out of my pocket and text Lee. We need to talk when you get home.

  Her obsession with the Savocas has to stop. I know she feels responsible for Pop going to prison. Most of the evidence the Feds used to convict him came straight out of her books, which they got their hands on when they raided the house. But if she’s blaming herself for the Savocas coming after us, she’s dead wrong. It was Pop’s choice to turn evidence on Victor Savoca. If it turns out the Savocas contracted the hit on us, they’ll pay for it. Oliver Savoca is a sanctimonious prick. It would be my great and enduring
pleasure to take him down. But if it comes to that, it’s going to be me who extracts that particular pound of flesh. Lee needs to stay the hell out of it.

  Chapter 18

  Adri

  “I met Batman today,” Chuck says as I roll the dolly I’m on out from under Frank.

  “What?”

  “Elaine asked me to come in for a training session for the new guy.”

  “New guy?” I say, still not following.

  “Batman,” he confirms. “Next time you’re kissing him in your classroom, you might want to remind him his left hook needs work.”

  A jolt of electric realization shoots through me when I catch on to what he’s saying. I roll back under the car so he won’t see it on my face, and try to keep it out of my voice. “How do you know it was him?”

  He grabs a wrench from the cart and starts tightening the clamp on the radiator hose. “The blue ninety-eight Chevy Lumina he was driving was a pretty good clue. He wanted to know if you and I were messing around.”

  “Crap,” I say, rolling back out and looking at him. “What did you tell him?”

  “Are we messing around?” he asks with a wicked smile.

  “No!”

  “Then that must have been what I told him.”

  I sit up and throw a greasy shop towel at him. “Stop it! Tell me what he said.”

  He leans back on the workbench. “I told him not to fuck with you and he said he wouldn’t.”

  My stomach sinks to my shoes. “I told you not to worry about that. He shot me down.” I don’t add the twice. There’s very little I keep from Chuck, but I don’t even know what to think right now. Rob left me wet and wanting, but he said it was because he would ruin me. His kiss, his touch, everything about him screams passion and desire. He never said he didn’t want me. He said I didn’t want him. Which is so not true.

  Chuck folds his arms over his chest and his expression goes all serious. “Good.”

  “You told me you weren’t going to scare off all my prospects.”

  He shakes his head. “I think you have selective hearing. I never said that.”

  “Oh, God,” I mutter, lowering my face into my hand.

  “You really like him?”

  I breathe in and hold it a second before exhaling. “I do. A lot.”

  “But you said you don’t know anything about him.”

  I lower my hand and look at him. “What did you think? I mean, does he come off ax murderer to you, or superhero?”

  He gives his head a little shake. “Hard to tell, Ade. He’s trained in hand to hand, and he’s the best Danni has seen on the shooting range. He says it’s not military training, so I suppose he could have come through law enforcement. Danni says she’s asked him about it and he always hedges, which definitely tells me he’s hiding something.”

  I feel my face scrunch. “I know. He’s not the most forthcoming person I’ve ever met, but …”

  “But what?”

  I lean into Frank’s fender. “But my gut tells me he’s not bad. I can’t even explain it, except it’s all there in his eyes.”

  He pushes off the workbench and pulls me into a hug. “Your instincts are pretty fucking amazing. I guess you’ve got to trust your gut.”

  Trusting my gut got me humiliated and jilted. I don’t think I’d survive that kind of rejection again.

  *

  I’m late getting home from Chuck’s so I boil water for frozen ravioli because it’s the fastest thing I have in the house, then call Dad to dinner.

  “Sorry,” I say when he looks over the table. “It’s the best I could do in fifteen minutes.”

  He settles into his seat. “Looks good.”

  “How was work?”

  He shrugs. “Same ol’. How about you?”

  I cut a ravioli with the edge of my fork and swirl it in the sauce. “Since the troublemaker in my class got expelled, things have been a lot easier.”

  “Any word from the school board yet?” he asks through a bite.

  I shake my head. “They said they have ongoing interviews and probably won’t have a decision until April.”

  He looks up at me from his food. “Another month? That’s a long time to make you wait.”

  I shrug. “Don’t really think I have a choice.”

  “I’ll talk to Stu, see what I can find out.”

  After a lifetime on the Port St. Mary police force, there’s no one that Dad doesn’t know, so I’m sure Stu is some school admin crony.

  “So, what do you know about this Davidson family up at Widow’s Leap?” he asks, shoving another ravioli in his mouth. “That’s the new boy in your class, right? The one whose older brother drove you home? See a blue Lumina parked up there every day.”

  I drop my fork. “What do you mean, every day?”

  He shrugs and stabs a ravioli. “I drive most of the island every day, punkin. It’s part of my job.”

  If I make a big stink about this, he’ll know I’m … what? Involved? Are Rob and I involved? Because I haven’t seen him once since he left me on my bed two days ago. I don’t even know if it’s him dropping Sherm off at school. He gets dropped off and picked up in the wedge at the far end of the parking lot that I can’t see from my window.

  “They seem nice. Sherm is a sweet boy, and his brother Rob cares a great deal for him,” I say, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest.

  He lifts his eyes without lifting his head. “Where are the parents?”

  I think about whether to answer with what I was told, or what I’ve found out since. I split the difference. “His mom died a few years ago.” I decide to leave out the dad-in-jail part.

  The dead-mom thing seems to catch him up for a second, and he sips his water to regroup. “So, the older brother is raising him?”

  “I’ve met his older sister too. She’s very attentive to Sherm. They seem to take great care of him.”

  “Do any of them work?”

  “Yes, I think,” I say, more playing with my food than eating it. I’ve lost my appetite. If I tell Dad Rob works with Chuck, Chuck will be next on the interrogation list. Dad and Chuck with their heads together about Rob is the last thing anyone needs.

  “Who picks the boy up from school?”

  “His brother.” I think.

  “So he’s around during the day, which means he’s not working,” he says with a pensive nod. “If they don’t work, where is all the money for cars and motorcycles coming from? Seems like new vehicles are sprouting up on that property every day.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. Why do you care so much?”

  He rubs his temple as if he’s got a headache. “It’s my job,” he says again, sharper. “If there’s anything illegal going on up there, it’s my job to find out, and that’s usually what free-flowing money with no apparent source points to.”

  “They’re not running drugs, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m pretty sure the brother works nights.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll find out when I look into it.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes me nervous.

  “I don’t see you doing this with every new person who moves onto this island,” I say and can’t totally keep the scorn out of my voice.

  “That’s because they don’t give me any reason to.”

  I slam my palm on the table. “What reason have the Davidsons given you?”

  His expression hardens as he looks at me, and I know. It’s because Rob has been here. Twice.

  I let Rob drive away on Wednesday. What choice did I have? I was half-dressed and humiliated. Dad knows he was here. And worse? He probably knows I snuck him past Sergeant Dixon on the way in.

  All the blood rushes to my face and I stand and lift my plate. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed.”

  I dump my dinner down the sink, storm to my room, and drop to the floor, my back against the door. If Rob walked away because he doesn’t want me, I’ll have to live with that, but that’s not what he said. He sounded like he was doing
it to protect me.

  I need to know how he really feels.

  And I’m going to find out.

  Chapter 19

  Rob

  It’s Saturday night and I’ve got a date with David, one of the eight Spencer Security drivers. He’s older than Pop, with a handlebar mustache and a bad comb-over. I hope he looks better in his chauffer getup.

  I haven’t forgotten I had a real date with an irresistible blonde before I fucked everything up and left her in the lurch three days ago.

  The charity dinner next Saturday is in the grand ballroom of one of the downtown luxury hotels. I make the circuit, jot some notes, head back to the car. David drops his smoke to the ground, grinds it out with the heel of his biker boot, slides into the driver’s seat. He throws the car in gear and we roll out of the driveway.

  “Why is she staying somewhere else?” I grumble as he weaves us onto the highway.

  “Because South Beach is where it’s happening. They always stay there,” he tells me with the rasp of a lifetime chain-smoker. “This is why they pay you the big bucks.”

  “She’s not even going out, according to her itinerary,” I say, flinging the folder onto the dash. “Why the fuck does it matter where she stays?”

  He cuts me a chastising look. “Not your call.”

  “Should be,” I mutter. “I’m the fucking bodyguard.” I’m grouchy, and it’s not his fault, but he’s the only one around to take it out on, so lucky him.

  By the time I’ve got my notes on South Beach and we make it back across the everglades, it’s after ten.

  I turn up the dirt road to the house, hungry and tired, but pull up short when I see a white T-Bird parked at the end of the road, near our driveway. I roll up next to it and park. When Adri steps out of the car, my heart kicks hard in my chest. I take a second to collect my thoughts, then shoulder open the door.

  “We had a date,” she says.

  There’s a full moon tonight. It casts her in a silver glow. She’s in a short, pale blue dress, with bare legs and white flip-flops, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks so fucking beautiful that I swear my heart skips a beat. But I can’t help picturing how she looked the last time I saw her, half-naked on her bed. Incredible.