by VK Powell
“More than a little, I think.”
Jordan tapped her fingers on the table like she was pounding a typewriter. Was Bina asking about her sexuality or her intentions toward her daughter? Did she know about Neela? How was she supposed to answer questions like this from someone’s mother? “I—”
“I am old and crooked, Jordan, not blind and insensitive. I see things only those of advanced years can see. My daughter’s soul is tired. Your heart is wounded. Perhaps you can help each other mend.”
“I’m not sure I know how to—”
“You can do anything, brave one. Trust yourself and my Neela.” She finished her tea and slowly rose as the doorbell rang. “Will you see to the workmen? I must sleep again.”
“Of course. I’ll leave something on your bedroom door when I go. Don’t hesitate to use it. Is someone coming to be with you?”
“I will be fine. Lock the door on your way out. I feel much safer just knowing you are my hero.” She kissed Jordan’s cheek and shuffled toward her room. As she walked away, Jordan’s heart ached from the simple gesture and Bina’s unconditional kindness. She didn’t know anything about Jordan’s history, yet she knew her well.
While the workmen went about the repairs, Jordan read the file Bex had left. The reports detailed Ed Branson’s and Neela Sahjani’s family, education, and work histories. Bex had a reason for digging up all this information so Jordan searched it carefully. Their backgrounds were impressive in their own ways, but they shared nothing in common until medical school. They’d worked on several research projects and had even been part of the same study group and two professional organizations—connections, but nothing that red-flagged them for retaliation.
Jordan flipped to the most recent page of organizational affiliations and skimmed down the list on Branson’s side. He’d been a founder and avid supporter of the Guilford Citizens for Equality protest group since medical school. Neela’s list showed no such association. She made a note to ask her about it. Vocal groups like these were sometimes the catalysts that spurred fanatics on the opposing side to violent action.
Five hours later, the workmen were packing their tools to leave. She reviewed the camera and alarm operation with the tech guys and tested the connection to her tablet. Next, she scribbled a short note, wrapped it around the remote panic button, and hung it on Bina’s bedroom doorknob.
As she reassembled the papers and returned them to the file, Jordan wondered if Neela’s protection detail was coming to an end. If so, she wouldn’t have any reason to see or contact her. Before closing and locking the door, she looked around the cozy house she would probably never be inside of again.
She’d definitely miss Neela when the assignment ended. She’d opened up to her about her sexual problem—and they weren’t even in a relationship—a testament to Neela’s compassion and understanding. But she hadn’t gone into why she couldn’t let go with anyone. Neela probably already thought she was a freak. Why would she want to hear any more? Did it really matter?
What they had was only a hookup, and after her behavior this morning, that was probably over as well. She hadn’t enjoyed exposing her shortcomings and vulnerabilities to Neela, and she’d feel embarrassed facing her again. Who’d want to have sex with a woman who whined about her problems after only a couple of romps? She’d be better off going back to barhopping—fewer complications, more straightforward sex, and less emotion.
She was about to call for a ride home when she saw Neela’s car coming down the street with Bex’s vehicle and another one following close behind. Bex sped around Neela and slid to a stop in front of the house before Neela pulled into the drive.
“Let’s go, partner. The guys are on the way.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“It’s quitting time. Let’s hit the bar on the way home.”
Bex was giving her the bum’s rush so she purposely slowed her pace. She’d just reached the passenger side when the two cars stopped in the driveway, and Neela and Liz Blackmon got out and walked toward the house. Neela’s briefcase was slung over her shoulder, and Liz carried a small overnight bag in one hand. Neela didn’t look at her, but Liz waved and smiled, placing her hand in the small of Neela’s back as they entered the house.
Jordan started across the lawn, but Bex grabbed her arm. “Don’t.”
“Let go of me.”
“What are you going to do? Piss on the doorstep to mark your territory? Fight her for humping rights? It’s not your call, Jordan.”
“She’s fucking with me.” Jordan tried to pull away but Bex held fast.
“No, she’s not, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? She gets to choose who shares her bed.”
She’d never shared Neela’s bed. They’d fucked over the back of a couch and in a police car and humped on a floor, but never anywhere that indicated their connection had meaning—because she hadn’t allowed it. A sick feeling overshadowed Jordan’s anger because she’d driven Neela into another woman’s arms. But Neela wouldn’t have sex with this person while Bina was home. She did with you.
“Damn it.” Jordan jerked her arm out of Bex’s grasp and got in the car. “Explain the alarm system to her and then get me out of here before I do something more stupid than I’ve already done.”
Chapter Eleven
Neela nuzzled close to the warm body in bed beside her. Jordan. But when she slid her arm across the full-figured woman next to her, she remembered.
“Good morning, lover,” Liz said, and spooned her back. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? That’s all you can say after the night we had? It was exceptional. You’ve never been quite so…ravenous.”
Neela tried to roll away but Liz scooched closer. “Instant replay?”
“Can’t. Early meeting, and Mrs. Scott, Bina’s friend, is dropping her off at home shortly.” She pecked Liz on the cheek, grabbed her robe, and locked the bathroom door behind her. Turning the hot spray of the shower on full blast, she stepped in and finally considered what she’d done.
After her encounter with Jordan yesterday, she’d been frustrated and confused. She’d surrendered completely every time Jordan had needed her, submitted to her assertive couplings, and enjoyed the raw physicality of sex with her. Neela had been consistently patient, which had finally paid off when Jordan opened up to her. Neela had thought they were making progress until Jordan once again rejected her touch, completely disconnecting. She understood sexual dysfunction and preferences of all types. She’d paid attention to the courses in medical school, but when it came to someone she cared about, she seemed ill equipped.
Maybe Jordan didn’t want help. Sharing those kinds of intimate details had to have been unbearable for someone so guarded. She was probably regretting it already. Her heart ached for Jordan, but yesterday her need had been paramount. Jordan should’ve understood the desperation that such a frightening ordeal caused. But she seemed incapable or unwilling to comfort her. The realization had been a wake-up call. She’d been trying to mold a fuck buddy into a partner. Jordan couldn’t be molded.
When Liz called mid-day and suggested a review of their research over dinner, Neela had accepted. She hadn’t planned to have sex with Liz, but after their business was complete, Liz had quickly picked up on her vulnerability. Their night had satisfied Neela’s physical need and she’d been more adventurous with Liz, but her passion had been for Jordan. The eventual relief was a poor substitute for what she really wanted. She should’ve known better. She’d given Liz encouragement that their tryst could be something more by bringing her home, and Jordan now knew they’d slept together. Not a proud moment. She’d abandoned the guidance system of her life—honesty.
“Hey, save me some hot water.” Liz knocked on the door. “I’d love to join you in there.”
Neela turned the water off, slipped into her robe, and wrapped a towel around her unruly hair. She unlocked the door and finished brushing her teeth. She’d used Liz, but now it was time
to set the record straight. When she wiped the steam off the mirror, she gasped at the big purple bruise on the side of her neck. “Damn it, Liz.”
“What?” Liz stood behind her naked with her arms spread in an innocent gesture.
“You know what. Look at this ungodly thing on my neck. We’re not in high school.”
Liz came up behind her and pressed their bodies together, resting her chin on the opposite side of her neck. “Guess I got as carried away as you did. Would you like one for this side? I’d be happy to oblige.”
Neela stepped out of her embrace. “Liz, you know I—”
Liz held up her hands. “Oh no, please don’t give me the I’ve-slept-with-the-wrong-woman speech. Honey, we’ve been having sex for a while. Don’t you think I know when you’re not really making love to me?”
Neela shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt. That was the best sex I’ve had in years. And unless I’ve completely lost my ability to read people, you like that cop a lot. If she was the inspiration behind last night, I want to shake her hand.”
Neela felt the blush creep up her neck. “I wouldn’t advise it.” Jordan’s default emotion was anger, and if she thought she had any claim on Neela, an encroachment on her turf could lead to unpleasantness.
“No shit. I’m the one she attacked the other night. And the look she gave me yesterday afternoon when we came home—she’s got it bad. If my little beauty mark provides her with some incentive, all the better.”
“This isn’t some kind of game, Liz.”
“Really? Does she know that? I’ve been checking up on Detective Jordan Bishop. She’s got a string of conquests as long as—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Liz turned Neela so she could look in her eyes. “So, she’s not the only one with a bad case. You’re playing with hot coals, Neela, and this one bursts into flame with a slight breeze.”
“And how do you think this little love bite will help?”
“Maybe she needs to think she’s got competition.”
“Liz, you’re not athletes vying for a medal.”
“No, we’re lesbians vying for the same woman—that’s much worse. The stakes are higher, the game more dangerous, and the reward immensely more satisfying.”
“Get in the shower. I’ve got to cover this damn thing up and get to work.” She popped Liz on the ass with her towel. “And thanks for last night, really. I needed it.”
“Any time.” As Liz stepped in the shower, she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, would you be interested in going into business with me?”
Neela stopped fluffing her hair, not sure she’d heard right. “You don’t have a business.”
“I’ve been thinking about opening my own research lab. The grant we have can’t last forever, and who knows what the university will do when it runs out. Actually, I’ve already made preliminary inquiries with some research facilities and have some promising leads. I really want to see where our work is heading. And I want out of the restraints of academia. The sooner we can be on our own, the better. Interested?”
“Definitely, but where would we get the money? I have to make a living, you know.” Neela had never considered a full-time job as a researcher, even though she loved the work.
“A couple of the facilities I’ve approached are interested in backing us, plus I have some seed money. Stem-cell research is the next big thing, and if we get in early, we could write our own ticket, especially when we make a breakthrough…and we will. Just think about it.”
“I will. Thanks, but you understand—”
Liz stuck her head out of the shower. “Yes, I understand it’s not a personal arrangement. My offer is strictly business because you’re a brilliant researcher. Just be ready. You know me. When I set my mind on something, I don’t waste time.”
“You’re good for my ego. I should’ve married you a year ago.”
“Too late. My dance card is extremely full.” She grinned and popped back under the shower spray.
An hour later, she and Liz were on the way to their respective jobs. Neela hadn’t acknowledged her protection detail across the street. She didn’t need to see the expression on Jordan’s face to know she was angry. She’d seen that look every time Jordan was aroused, like she was to blame for the pain and her inability to release it. The time had come for Jordan to step up if she was interested in, and capable of, anything beyond sex. Neela had drawn a line in the sand.
Rosemary was waiting in her office with an Excel spreadsheet clutched in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “What’ve you got, Rose?”
“Nothing as exciting as that.” She pointed to Neela’s neck and feigned shock, her tiny frame shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Do you miss anything?”
“Not when it’s the size of a small state. Who’s the proud artist—doctor or supercop?”
“Rose, put that stuff down and help me hide this thing. I don’t need to be the center of gossip in my own office.”
“Too late for that.” Jordan’s voice rumbled through her like a train barreling down the tracks, and Neela practically fell into her chair. She forced herself not to look up. The only saving grace was that Bex stood beside Jordan, hopefully gripping her short leash very tightly.
Rosemary did her best to arrange Neela’s scarf to hide the hickey, while Neela tried to appear dignified and unaffected. Rose whispered, “Guess it wasn’t her.”
“Thank you, Rose. Leave those spreadsheets and I’ll look them over.” She nodded as Rosemary dodged an unmoving Jordan Bishop and closed the door behind her. “Detectives, good morning. Have a seat, please.” To her surprise, her voice was calm and professional, unlike the turmoil swirling inside.
Jordan remained standing and Neela could feel her staring at her neck, while Bex took a seat and handed her two sheets of paper. “We have a couple of questions about your association with Doctor Ed Branson.”
“Of course, anything to help.” Neela put her glasses on to examine the documents. Jordan groaned but she didn’t look up. The sound was far too provocative. “What does a list of my professional organizations have to do with Ed’s assault or the threats?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can tell us. Have you ever been associated with the Guilford protest group?”
Neela took her time removing her glasses before she made eye contact with Bex. If she admitted an association with the group, her job could be over. These people were philosophically and very publicly opposed to Governor Lloyd’s policies on almost every issue—education, voter regulation, abortion, and same-sex marriage, to name only the most hotly contested.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Guilford Citizens for Equality group is committed to keeping many of Governor Lloyd’s campaign initiatives from becoming legislation during this term.”
“Spoken like a true politician,” Jordan said, “but it doesn’t answer the question.”
Neela kept her focus on Bex. “Can we talk somewhere else, please?”
Bex seemed to grasp her dilemma. “Sure. Why don’t we go for a walk?”
She followed Bex out the back door and toward the athletic field, acutely aware that Jordan was very close behind.
“Okay, you’ve got your private audience. Answer the question.” Jordan either had no idea of the situation these answers could create or just didn’t care.
“Ed Branson and I started the Guilford Citizens for Equality group in our medical-school days. We saw the need even then to give pro-choice proponents a voice in the political arena. The effects of bad legislation on women and children, especially in poor communities, were evident. The group was a very small version of the conglomerate of today. Ed was much more vocal and took a more active role in the organizational aspects. I supported him with advice and funding, particularly after I became involved in politics. We agreed I could do more good wielding a pen behind the scenes than waving a sign on the street. And my
parents had risked too much for me to be blackballed from medicine before my career got started.”
“And you didn’t think it was important to mention this when we asked about your connection to Doctor Branson?” Jordan’s tone was accusatory, but Neela chose to remain professional and not challenge her for once.
“It seemed unlikely that anyone would find that particular link and even less likely it would be connected to his assault and the threats against me.”
“And you’ve been an investigator for how long exactly?” Jordan was trying to provoke her, and it had nothing to do with the case.
“Jordan, not helping,” Bex said. “Neela, we’re not sure if it is the connection, but we have to consider every possibility since the notes have been so vague. Abortion opponents usually want their actions to be noticed and are diligent about making them public. This feels different.”
“You understand why I can’t be publicly associated with this group. The governor is already looking for ways to fire me. This could be his ammunition.”
Bex placed her hand on Neela’s shoulder, and Jordan cleared her throat rather emphatically. She was like a pit bull guarding her master. “Can you get us a list of the current initiatives?”
“Sure, it’s all online, but it’s extensive.”
“We just need a summary of the most controversial ones, and you’d know more about that. We’ll work our way through them and look for anything suspicious.”
“Bex, you’re talking about political initiatives. They’re all suspicious. And besides, the initiatives themselves aren’t necessarily the problem. It’s the unrelated riders politicians attach to innocent bills.” Neela laughed when Bex scratched her head and nodded.
