by Mary Calmes
"I'm so happy!"
"I know," he chuckled tiredly. "I can tell."
I couldn't contain myself. I smiled so wide. "I can't get fired anymore?"
"No."
"Not that I could have before," I clarified, looking at him hard, daring him to contradict me.
"Not that you could have before," he agreed, smiling in defeat, shaking his head. "Christ."
"You know I love you." I blurted out before I even thought about it.
He looked at me hard.
I held my breath. I had gone and pushed right over the edge, as was my way.
After a minute he said, "I know."
The look I was getting was pure annoyance, and as I watched him scowl at me I had an epiphany. Big word for a simple thing but it takes me longer than other people to reach the same place. "You," I couldn't bring myself to say the word so I substituted an easier one, "you like me too, huh?"
"Yes."
"You're compelled against your better judgment to take care of me."
"Yes."
Like I was his brother. "I'm very lucky."
"Yes, you are."
A thought crossed my mind. "Can we drink our lunch at Boca? I feel like celebrating."
"Fine."
"Cool." I beamed at him, so very pleased.
"Let's go now." He yawned loudly.
"Wait." I had thought of something else. "Are you going back to Texas?"
"I don't know."
"Do they want you to go back?"
"Of course."
"Do you want to?"
"No."
"But you should."
"Why should I?"
"Are we okay?" I asked suddenly, checking to make sure.
"We're okay."
"And so what about your new family?" I sighed, so relieved that we were over and beginning at the same time. "You have new brothers and sisters."
"It was for her," he said, getting up and crossing the room to his desk, to the chair to retrieve his suit jacket. "After this time there is nothing more I can offer. It's futile to even pursue."
"But—"
"Jory, think—different lives are led, to dissolve into what, cards at Christmas? I have that now if I do nothing more.
How many people do you want to have to shop for?" He smiled at me, one dark eyebrow arched in a question.
"But they are your family."
"I had a family before my parents died. I don't need more."
"Will you regret it later?"
"I don't think so."
"Maybe we'll go back."
"No."
"No?"
"You are part of my life, same as my other friends that I don't share with just anyone."
Oooh, I was grouped with the important people! "So that's why I didn't go."
"That's why."
I nodded. "That was a nice thing to say."
"I have my moments."
* * * *
Dane and I had such a good lunch that afterward he dumped me at home and told me that he would see me the following morning. When he shoved me out of the cab, I stood on the sidewalk waving like an idiot for several minutes.
Still buoyant four hours later, I accepted my friend Andy's invitation to hit the club with him and a whole big group of people. And I almost wished I would run into Sam Kage the way I looked, because this way he could see what dressing to get laid really looked like.
The black jeans hugged my legs and ass like a second skin, hanging low on my hips, and the silk shirt was open to my abs. I decided on my way out the door that anybody who wanted to put their hands on me was free to do so. When one of Andy's friends groped me in the car, I let him. He smiled and pressed himself into me.
"Andy, Jory's open for business."
"If he is," he said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Then I've got first dibs."
But when the car stopped in front of the club, I spilled out and went inside with the yelling, cajoling, and calling behind me. I wasted no time in pushing into the crowd and losing myself. I could hear the thump of the trance music inside my body as I danced. They were playing vintage tracks and I closed my eyes and moved. It was like drowning in sound.
I had many partners but nobody could get me off the floor, so they lost interest. Even as ready for a trick as I was, there was no bathroom action for me. Screwing in a stall while other people peed had never been my idea of a good time. So I stayed and danced until Andy came and dragged me off the floor, with strong arms wrapped around my chest. I gulped down copious amounts of ice water even though he tried to get more alcohol in me. Still on cloud nine from my talk with Dane, when I saw Nick sitting at a table near the back with some of his friends, I decided that I would give it one more try. It was almost Thanksgiving after all.
All eyes on the table rose to me until Nick noticed that the focus was behind him and turned. His gaze came up from the floor to my face very slowly. I smiled wide for him and I watched his jaw clench.
"Hey. Can I talk to you?"
He stood up and put a hand flat on my chest before he shoved me back. "Get lost, Jory."
"Nick," I said, reaching for him. "Please, just c'mere for—"
"What? You wanna say sorry for the way you treated me?"
He shrugged. "Like it matters? Like you didn't do me a huge favor. I mean, for shit's sake, Jory, what the fuck was I thinking? I'm going to be a doctor and you're just some trick I picked up at a club. You're the fuck and forget kind, not the forever kind."
"Nick—"
"You've got one-night stand written all over you."
One last try, because I owed him. In karma, I owed him.
"Nicky, please let me
just—"
"What? You want me to fuck you?" The whole table laughed at once, and I got that everybody else knew that I'd treated him badly as well. They were enjoying me begging him, trying to apologize, and getting just what I deserved instead. Payback was a bitch and he was giving it to me with both barrels. I was in for embarrassment and humiliation galore. "Let's go to the bathroom, Jory, I'll tap that right now for you."
I just looked at him.
"No? You wanna take me back to your place, Jory?"
I remained silent.
"It's a shithole, but you're trash so it makes sense. How many guys you have through there a night? Five? Ten?"
I nodded. "Okay."
"Okay what? You wanna go to your place?"
I shook my head.
"Well you're not coming home with me. I'd have to burn my sheets afterward."
I took the steadying breath, took a few steps backward, then pivoted around and left. And it was weird but I almost felt better. I had let him hurt me, give me all the venom he had, and then said nothing and walked away. It was somehow cleansing. My debt was paid. But I couldn't stay.
Getting your head handed to you is a buzzkill no matter what.
When I ducked outside I realized how cold it was. I needed a jacket or a cab right away. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started down the street. After a couple of minutes I realized something was moving, out of the corner of my eye. I am not trained in the art of stalking, as in how to do it or how not to let on when someone is doing it to you. So I stopped and turned to look at the street. The van did the same, coming to a stop, and as the side door flew open, I bolted. I heard the firecracker pop close to me and ran down the alley to my right; I heard the revving engine and was up and over the six-foot chain-link fence in seconds flat. Give it up for the gym.
I ran on, never once looking back, having seen way too many horror movies where the hero got it like that. The rusted dumpster I ducked around got hit and the reverberation of metal hitting metal panicked me. When I was on the next street, I heard screeching tires as I went up and over cars stopped at the light, nearly got hit by another car that ran the red, and ran flat-out when I got across. The only thought I had was that I had to lead whoever it was as far away from my apartment as possible.
/> The stairs leading up to the subway were there suddenly, and as I ran I heard the engine. Too close to get up to the platform and I was getting dangerously close to my neighborhood. I swerved sharply and heard the crunch of metal. I instantly reversed and started back for the club. I could feel my lungs starting to hurt even as I pushed and felt the kick of speed. Again, let's hear it for the stair climber and hundreds of laps in the pool. Funny the things that go through your head when you're running for your life.
It was hilarious, or it would have been, but when I came careening around the corner I saw Nick and his friends coming out of the club. I went around the parked cars into the street so I wouldn't run past him and his group. I stopped suddenly and the van blew by as I looked around.
"Jory!" Nick yelled at me, and when our eyes met I registered the fear there before I checked the van. It swung around and I bolted across the street. I heard the tires and more firecracker pops before I flew down another alley. I saw a dumpster and above it the roof ladder.
Adrenaline is amazing. I felt like Spiderman or something.
I got up on the closed dumpster, leaped for the rung, and did the chin-up to the second one. Once my legs were under me I got up fast as the van came to a screeching stop beneath me.
Not that I looked down, I just heard it. I heard the yelling and then there were sparks in front of my face, on all sides, as I climbed. Pure luck, but only in the movies could one moving target hit another. I fell over onto the roof of the apartment building and lay there for a minute trying to breathe, trying to get my heart and lungs not to explode. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police precinct. I asked not for Sam but for his partner, Dominic Kairov. I sat there as I was forwarded.
"Mr. Keyes?"
"Detective Kairov?"
"Yes, what's—"
But I cut him off, told him where I was, what had happened, and asked if maybe he could send like a squad car or something to scare the van off.
"Where are you ri—"
"Jory!"
I groaned as Sam's voice came over the line. I hung up and peeked over the side to the street below. No van. I was going to go to the roof door when it was thrown open and two guys came through. They both had guns drawn. Shit. I scrambled over the side and lucky for me they were more than a hundred fifty feet away. I was down the ladder faster than I had come up, dropped the few feet to the lid of another dumpster and rolled off to the pavement. I was on my feet as the wall beside me exploded before I took the corner. I ran down the sidewalk as fast as I could, crossed two streets, and hailed a cab. Once inside, I directed the driver back to my apartment. I ducked down in the back and saw the van fly out into the middle of the street and blow by us going in the opposite direction. I sat up and put my head back and closed my eyes. I tried to catch my breath.
"You all right, man?"
I exhaled long and loud. "Perfect."
Maybe I could skip the gym the following day.
Once I was inside the outer door at my new place I felt completely safe. Nobody knew I'd moved, and when I was under the hot water ten minutes later, I concentrated on not passing out. When adrenaline leaves, it just sort of deserts you in a hurry. I managed to change into my flannel pajama bottoms and hit the bed instead of the floor when I passed out.
* * * *
The pounding on the door woke me, and when I looked at the clock in the kitchen as I shuffled to the front door, it was two-thirty in the morning.
"Jory!"
I winced. Even his voice through the door sounded like a hammer. When I cracked the door I left the chain on and peered out. "Yes, Detective?" I yawned loudly. "What can I do for you?"
"Open this goddamn door right fucking now!"
The volume was seriously too much for the hour. "I have neighbors," I reminded him as I closed the door to unchain it.
"Could you keep it down, please?"
When I turned he stormed in, slamming the door behind him and grabbing me in one swift motion. He had a hand fisted in my hair and the other on my throat as he stared down into my eyes. I was still half asleep so my body was much more pliable then it would have usually been. I was boneless.
"You stupid sonofabitch," he growled at me, his mouth hovering over mine.
I squirmed free of his grasp and crossed the room, putting the couch between us. "Whaddya want?"
"You're going into protective custody right fuckin' now."
His voice was hard and cold.
"No." I shook my head. "I'm not."
"If I can find you, believe me, they can find you."
"Please, you know who my boss is—they don't. I'm not worried. Besides, if they kill me, maybe you can catch 'em in the act. That would make you really happy."
"Jory—"
"Just go away," I pleaded. "Please. I'll do anything."
He stared at me a long minute before he spun around, stalked to the door, threw it open so hard that it vibrated, and walked out. I was going to clap because it was so dramatic, but I thought better of it. What if he heard me?
Bearbaiting was stupid after all. As I replaced the chain and dead bolted the lock, I was hoping I was all done with drama for one night.
* * * *
End of Book One
A Matter of Time: Vol. 1
by Mary Calmes
Book Two
Chapter One
I was getting back from having lunch with my friend Tran, who worked on the fourth in the same building as me, when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, so I answered figuring maybe it was Dane Harcourt, my boss and the one constant in my life.
"Hello?"
"Jory?"
It was Nick Sullivan, the doctor who couldn't decide if he loved me or hated me. "Hi."
He cleared his throat. "Are you all right? I saw you running last night and I—"
"You're only calling now?" I chuckled. "I could've been killed." And I was being funny, keeping things light, but I had been running from men who wanted me dead the night before. The night before it had been anything but funny.
"I—no, I called the police last night but you were already gone by the time they showed up and—"
I smiled into the phone. "It's fine. I'm fine."
There was a brief silence. "I was a total dick last night, as well as the time I saw you before, and I'm so sorry."
Last night, before I had been running for my life, I had allowed Nick Sullivan to serve me up a dish of just desserts.
Weeks before he had confessed to being crazy about me, but that was right before I had become an unwilling witness to murder. My life had turned upside down, which had less to do with a contract being put out on my life and more to do with one of the detectives on the case, Sam Kage. I had fallen so hard and so fast for Detective Kage that everything and everyone else in my life had been forgotten, especially Dr. Nick Sullivan, who had never been anything special to begin with. He would make someone a great partner someday, but he would never be mine. When we had crossed paths at a club, I felt that I should try and apologize for disappearing after he had confessed his interest in me. The venom I got back had been surprising.
"Jory?"
"Sorry," I said quickly.
"I really am sorry."
"It's okay, I deserved it all, so we're good." I had dated him and forgotten him and that was mean. In my defense, there had never been a drop of chemistry or even a spark of attraction.
"Are we?"
"Yep."
He coughed softly. "Okay."
"Okay," I said softly. "I'll see ya around." And I didn't give him time to say anything more. I just hung up.
"Excuse me."
When I looked up, the man standing there smiled wide before he thrust out his hand.
"Hello there, son. Truman Ward here for my one o'clock with your boss, Mr. Harcourt."
Being Dane Harcourt's assistant and actually being good at my job, I knew that the smiling man was not in the right place on the right day. I squinted at him. "I believe you'r
e two days early, sir." I smiled slowly, shaking the offered hand. "You were scheduled for the day after Thanksgiving, not the day before."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Crap, was that what my secretary was trying to tell me this morning before I left?"
"Monica?" I dredged the name from my memory.
"Yes." his face brightened. "That's right."
"Yeah, we talked yesterday," I informed him. "It's Friday, sir, at this same time."
"Well, hell," he grunted, taking a seat in the chair closest to my desk. "Well, Friday ain't gonna work—I'll be in D.C.
Could ya give the big man a call and see if maybe he might spare some time today? I just have a few things to talk to him about, some changes my wife wants to make to the house."
Dane Harcourt hated making changes, but I didn't say that. Instead I nodded and got my boss on the phone. He asked me if it was possible and I said I could rearrange for three but not before. He gave me the go-ahead and hung up.
Mr. Ward was very pleased, and while we waited, we talked.
Or he talked and I listened.
He started in about his wife because that was the reason he was there. They'd been married forty years and he was building her a new house in Highland Park to celebrate. I asked all kinds of questions and he showed me pictures of his family, which he told me all about. He had two sons; the oldest was in business with him as a tax attorney/corporate lawyer and his youngest was a plastic surgeon.
"Got more women crawling all over him than I've ever seen," he chuckled. "But he's just playing the field, waiting for the right one to come along."
I nodded, asked if the attorney was married.
"Engaged to a pediatrician. Sweetest little gal you ever met. We're having her and her family for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Got a huge spread—like, twenty people coming."
"Must be nice."
We talked about architecture and art and for some reason music, because he didn't understand what was going on with what people were singing about "these days," and I played him some jazz remixes on my iPod. He got a big kick out of using the headphones and was impressed that I knew my world history. He had been in Vietnam, doing three tours before coming home to finish up his law degree, at the same time becoming a certified public accountant. I asked a million questions about the war and if he had been disappointed that neither of his sons had enlisted.
