Changing Teams

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “Number four,” she replied without hesitation.

  “I assume you can identify your former employer,” Salter drawled in my direction.

  “You assume correctly,” I said.

  Salter barked a few orders into an intercom, and the suspects filed out and a new set filed in.

  “Mr. MacKellar, can you identify the individual that struck you at Nash Williams’s studio last Monday?” Salter demanded.

  “Actually, I can’t,” I replied. “Whoever hit me did it from behind. I didn’t even know I was injured until after the EMTs arrived to see to Britt. She had been drugged and was unresponsive, as I’m sure you know, and I was far more interested in her well-being than about whoever might be lurking around behind me.” I glanced at Salter, and added, “I believe you have a video recording in your possession that corroborates my statement, and that the recording appears to show Ben Williams as my assailant.”

  Salter grunted. “Miss Sullivan, did you once model for one of these individuals at a museum?”

  “Number two,” Britt replied, indicating Ben.

  “Do you recall seeing him last Monday?” Salter pressed.

  “No, I don’t,” she replied. “I don’t remember anything after I drank that first cup of coffee. All I know of what happened afterward is what I saw on the video.”

  Salter grunted again, which was evidently his all-purpose response. “Is it still your intent to press charges?”

  “It is my intent to do whatever I can to make sure no one else ends up like Jillene,” Britt shot back. “Have you at least learned her last name?”

  “Leonas,” Fillion replied. “Jillene Margaret Leonas.”

  Salter glared at Fillion, but didn’t reprimand her. I wondered what the penalty was for divulging a murder victim’s name. “You can both go,” Salter said, careful not to look Britt in the eye again. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I nodded toward the detectives, then I placed my hand against Britt’s lower back and guided her out of that room, and out of the station. We stepped out into the early afternoon light for the second time that day, our mood much fouler than before.

  “I hate them,” Britt growled.

  “Do you dislike all of the NYPD, or just Salter?” I asked. “Fillion seems all right.”

  “They’re all in it together.” A breeze whipped up and Britt turned her face into the wind, letting it blow her long hair off her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a downer. When do we have to pick up the laundry?”

  “We can get it tomorrow,” I said as I hailed a cab. “Let’s get the car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not sure yet,” I replied. “You up for an adventure, baby?”

  Like the angel she was, Britt grinned. “Always.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  Britt

  Sam and I cabbed it back to his place, but instead of getting the car right away we went up to his apartment. I didn’t ask him why until he dragged out a suitcase and started flinging clothes into it.

  “I take it this will be an overnight adventure?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I think an overnight adventure is in order.” Sam held up one blue and one maroon hooded sweatshirt, ultimately packing the maroon one. “After everything that’s happened, I think we need to get out of the city.”

  “Today’s the first day we’ve been out of this apartment in almost a week,” I said. “We’ve hardly been in the city, lately. Maybe we can just go to Central Park or something.”

  Sam flashed me that grin of his. “Never underestimate the power of getting away from it all, darlin’.”

  Since resistance was futile, I grabbed the bag Melody had brought over for me along with my clothes and laptop, threw it onto the bed, and set about putting together a few outfits. Speaking of my cousin… “How do you think Melody’s doing in my apartment?”

  “I’m sure she’s getting along just fine,” Sam replied. “She just needs some time to sort out her place in the world.”

  I snorted. “I just hope she stays out of my art supplies. Those paints are expensive.”

  Sam flashed me that lopsided smile of his. “Now, darlin’, don’t go stifling her artistic talents,” he warned. “Didn’t your stepfather try that on you?”

  I made a face, then I resumed packing. “I guess she can touch the watercolors.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Not twenty minutes later we were in the Beemer, mired in traffic while Sam swore at everything in his path. “This is new,” I said, marveling as Sam insulted another driver’s mother, intelligence, and weight all with one pithy comment.

  “What’s new?” he demanded.

  “All this fury,” I replied. “You’re normally so calm and collected.”

  “This nonsense would drive anyone over the edge,” Sam said, gesturing at the traffic. “This is why I don’t drive in the city. All these morons have no idea—no idea!—what they’re doing.” Sam swerved to avoid a bus and ended up cutting off a cab. “It’s like all the unlicensed drivers on the planet converged on New York.”

  “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

  That earned me a glare. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  Before I could enlighten Sam as to how very, very amusing I found it, my phone trilled. “Hi, Marlys,” I greeted.

  “My missing client,” she said. “I trust your keeper forwarded my emails to you.”

  “Keeper? Oh, you mean Sam?” I glanced at Sam, wondering exactly what kind of talk he’d had with Marlys. “Yes, he sent them to me. When we hang up I’ll email you about the jobs I’m interested in.”

  “Good, good, very good. In addition to the ones I sent over, you got a very interesting offer this morning.”

  “Interesting?” I repeated, wishing there was some way I could put Marlys on speaker without her realizing it so Sam could hear her as well. Based on the way he was yelling at the traffic, Marlys would be on to us in a hot second. “Interesting as in good, or interesting as in psycho killer crazy?”

  “Interesting as in hot and sexy.” She paused for dramatic effect, and asked, “How would you feel about a shoot featuring you and your Sam?”

  “My Sam?” I repeated. “Who’s interested in that?”

  “Everyone,” Marlys replied. “If you two hadn’t been hiding under your bed for the past week, you’d realize what celebrities you two have become. All the gossip sites are painting Sam MacKellar as your knight in shining armor, rescuing you not once, but twice from certain harm.”

  I swallowed; I so did not want to talk about that with Marlys, now or ever. “Are these offers even legitimate, or just from lame sites like If The Shoe Fits?”

  “Speaking of If The Shoe Fits, they have a few more pictures of the two of you up,” Marlys said. “You’re in a blue dress, and Sam’s in a suit. The two of you are dancing, giving each other those love puppy eyes.”

  I swore, knowing exactly what picture of Sam and I Marlys was referring to. “Melody,” I grumbled.

  “Something wrong, baby?” Sam asked.

  “Melody sent some pictures of you and I that were taken at her wedding to If The Shoe Fits,” I replied. “Well, I don’t know if it was Melody, but she’s my top suspect.”

  “Any shots of your bottom?”

  “Sam!”

  “Well, that has to be an improvement over the last set of pictures,” he observed.

  I made a face at Sam, then I asked Marlys, “So, which of these awesome offers for the two of us are the best?”

  “Well, Metro Arts is offering ten thousand.”

  “Ten thousand?” I squeaked. “Dollars?”

  “No, ten thousand MetroCards,” Marlys deadpanned. “If you two agree to do a few nudes, the fee goes to ten thousand each.”

  Holy crap. Ten thousand each was real money, money I could use to pay my bills ahead for a few months and concentrate on my art. Maybe I could even give some of that money to Melody and get her the hell out
of my apartment. I said to Marlys, “Hang on,” then I put my hand over my phone and asked Sam, “Have you ever done any modeling?”

  “A bit here and there,” Sam replied. “Someone want to shoot us?”

  “Yeah, Metro Arts.”

  Sam nodded approvingly. “Good publication.”

  “Ask him about the nudity,” Marlys prompted.

  “Sam, we get paid double if we agree to nudes,” I said.

  “What?” he demanded. “Both of us? I can’t do that! What if my mother sees those pictures?”

  “That’s a damn double standard, and you know it,” I retorted. “You were fine with taking pictures of me naked.”

  “That was different,” he countered. “You are a professional.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe your ass is too cute to keep under wraps.” I put Marlys on speaker, and asked, “Marlys, what would they pay if only I was nude?”

  “Britannica Lynn, you had better not be planning on modeling nude for anyone but me,” Sam warned.

  “Or what? You’ll show up with a bunch of towels and cover me up?”

  “Damn straight you’ll be covered.”

  “I’ll leave you two to your lovers’ spat,” Marlys croaked into the phone. “I’ll tell Metro Arts yes to the shoot, and that the nudes are up for discussion. Let me know if you want to sell those nudes Sam took of you. I bet we can get a pretty penny for those.”

  “’Kay. Bye, Marlys.”

  I ended the call, and looked at Sam. “You’re blushing.”

  “Of course I am,” he said. “You just asked me to pose nude. And,” he added, giving me the sternest gaze he could while keeping his eyes mostly on the road, “those pictures I took of you are not for sale. Those are part of my private collection.”

  “Private collection, huh? Does that collection include the pictures of Michael’s cock?”

  Sam grinned. “Consider yourself in good company, darlin’.’”

  ***

  Despite the traffic’s best efforts to snare us, we eventually escaped the city. Sam headed north and east, and soon enough we were leaving New York State and entering the wilds of Connecticut.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked. “Want to hit up one of the seafood places down by New Haven?”

  “Nah, I thought we’d visit your hometown.”

  My jaw dropped. “Okay, I know you’re kidding based on two facts.”

  “And those facts are?”

  “For one thing, I never told you what town I’m from. You have no idea where you’re going.”

  “Massachusetts is a tiny state,” he replied. “Once we cross the border the town in question can’t be all that far away.”

  That comment made the New Englander in me bristle. So what if we weren’t huge like those Midwestern states? We’d earned our street cred a few centuries ago as an original colony. “Still, it takes about four hours to get there from New York. What are we really going to do there on a Monday night anyway?”

  “Get a room and wait for Tuesday?” Sam countered. “C’mon, Britt, be spontaneous with me.”

  I flopped back against the seat. “It’s not the spontaneity I’m worried about so much as the inevitable boredom once we get there.”

  Sam reached over and squeezed my thigh. “I’m sure any location that can breed the likes of you has plenty of excitement.”

  “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen Northampton on a weeknight,” I grumbled.

  “Northampton,” Sam said triumphantly as he updated his GPS. “See, darlin’, it’s only three hours from here. We’ll be there by dinnertime.”

  I made a face, though I was madder at myself than Sam. “Trickster.”

  Sam squeezed my thigh again. “I promise you can torture me in a similar fashion when we go out to Iowa. I’ll even let my mother show you my baby pictures.”

  I slid down in the seat and activated the heat. “You bet I’m having a look at those.”

  ***

  It ended up taking us a total of five hours to get to Northampton from the city. Despite the fact that Sam had employed all of his masculine wiles to get me there, I enjoyed being in my hometown again. Mom had married Patrick when I was twelve, and we’d moved to the big house in New Rochelle shortly afterward. For a few years after their marriage Mom and I would make a couple trips back per year, but those had ended once Patrick had my grandparents moved to a retirement community in Larchmont, then Dad went and got a girlfriend. Without her parents to visit, Mom just hadn’t found the drive worth her while.

  Oh, and she was totally avoiding Dad, but I wasn’t supposed to notice that.

  As Sam navigated the few downtown streets, filled with unique shops and interesting old architecture, I wondered why anyone would want to leave this quirky little town for stupid old New Rochelle. “That’s new,” I said as we drove by a tattoo parlor.

  “Maybe I’ll get me some ink on this trip,” Sam mused.

  “A tattoo?” I demanded, and he nodded. “A tattoo of what exactly?”

  “Oh, I’ve got a design in mind,” he drawled. “A heart with an encyclopedia in it, Cupid’s arrow shot through the pages.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Sam’s gaze slid toward mine. “Am I?” When I only gaped at him, Sam chuckled. “Hey, this place looks nice,” he said, indicating a massive brick hotel covered in white pillars and elegant balconies. “Let’s stay here tonight.”

  “That’s the most expensive hotel in town,” I warned.

  Sam shrugged. “I bet their best king size room costs less than a single bed in Manhattan.”

  Turned out Sam wasn’t exactly right, but we did get a nice room with a king size bed and two balconies for less than three hundred a night. The room itself was bigger than my apartment, and came with a sitting area filled with tastefully arranged furniture and a kitchenette equipped with marble counters and stainless steel appliances. While Sam investigated the bathroom, I picked up the menus for the hotel’s two restaurants.

  “What do you want for dinner? Restaurant food or tavern food?” I asked, since the hotel had one of each.

  “Neither,” Sam replied, plucking the menus from my hand and dropping them on the table. “Let’s go for a walk and find us a nice local place.”

  I couldn’t agree more. We grabbed our coats and headed out into the fall night, and wandered past the assorted restaurants and store fronts. Since it was a weeknight most places had closed early, but before long we found an Irish pub that kept the kitchen open till eleven.

  “This is surreal,” I said as we slid into our booth. “This place used to be a video store. You know, back when you had to leave home to rent movies.”

  “Times change,” Sam observed, then the waitress appeared for our drink order. After she’d taken them, Sam reached across the table and took my hands. “I haven’t told you the story about Gran’s bracelet yet,” he said.

  “Oh, you mean you’re not supposed to put it on your one true love?” I teased.

  “You gonna let me tell it, or what?” he countered. I nodded, and Sam continued, “By all accounts, my gran was quite a looker when she was younger. All the boys were courting her, including the son of the local railway owner, the richest man in town.”

  “Sounds like a nice life,” I said.

  “I’m sure it was. While Gran never admitted to having chosen one of her suitors, apparently she’d been leaning toward the railway owner’s son. Then, he gave her that bracelet, which was worth a small fortune at the time. Everyone figured the deal was done, and that they’d marry come spring.”

  “I take it that’s not what happened.”

  Sam smiled, then he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “Not by a long shot. One day, Gran went to the ice cream parlor and saw that there was a new guy behind the counter. He made her a milkshake, and then another, and the two of them talked until closing time. Gran said she’d never before met someone she felt so comfortable with, someone who had the same likes and dislikes as her. Th
at was my grandpa, and they were married inside of a year.”

  “Aww,” I said, since that story was certainly aww-worthy. “I thought your grandfather worked in the stock market.”

  “He did, but not when he was seventeen,” Sam replied.

  “I guess that would have been weird,” I murmured. “But why did she keep the bracelet? And why did she pass it on to you?”

  “I don’t rightly know why she kept it,” Sam admitted. “Maybe because it was a gift? But I can tell you this: when she passed it on to me, it was accompanied by a few sage words of advice. She said, ‘Sammy, you go out and live your life, but know that someday someone is going to waltz into your world and turn it upside down. You won’t be able to stop thinking about them, or imagine your life without them. That is the person you’re meant to be with. When you meet them, hold on tight and never let them go.’”

  The waitress appeared with our beers, so Sam released my hands and we ordered dinner. Once that was done, Sam raised his glass to me. “Britannica Lynn, you’ve driven me crazy since the first moment I saw you. I can’t get you out of my mind, nor do I ever want to. Live your crazy life with me?”

  We clinked glasses, and drank. “I’m crazy about you too, Sam MacKellar. Let’s do it.”

  Sam put down his beer and took my hand. “Really, baby? You’ll marry me?”

  My jaw dropped. “I-I hadn’t realized that was what you were asking,” I whispered. “Are you sure?”

  “More sure than I’ve ever been,” he replied, kissing my knuckles again. “I’m dead serious, Britt. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  I stared at Sam, shocked and speechless and maybe a little bit elated; okay, make that really elated. We’d known each other for such a short time that him proposing already was almost laughable, and certainly not the responsible thing to do. Wasn’t the world already full of people who’d gotten married too quickly, and for the wrong reasons? I didn’t want to be one of those people.

  But I loved Sam, of that I was certain. And since I’d already promised him forever, I guessed making it official was the logical next step. That didn’t mean I couldn’t play with him a bit.