by Davis Bunn
“I’m on the phone, come on in.” To Gary he said, “I’ll see you at noon.” Adrian’s calendar was fully booked, but because it was Gary who asked, the secretary had scheduled them for sandwiches in the conference room.
“Come at 11:30,” Gary replied. “There’s a lady from Sinclair Security you need to meet. One thing more. The detective I told you about wants you to come in and give that statement. And Ethan, you need me with you on this.”
“Whatever you say.” Ethan hung up the phone. “Ladies. Welcome.”
“Gina was correct. You have a suite.” Marie took in the broad plank flooring, the brass chandelier, the dark Spanish-style furniture. “It’s not to my taste, but very nice just the same.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Gina said. “Mom took forever.”
Marie was immaculately dressed as always, in coral-colored linen pants with matching cork-heeled sandals and an off-the-shoulder silk sweater. “Well, a lady doesn’t simply march upstairs to a gentleman’s room in garments wrinkled from travel and a quarrel.” She ignored how Gina rolled her eyes. “Am I allowed to ask how you come to be staying in such nice accommodations?”
“I’ve been investing,” Ethan replied.
“And doing quite handsomely, by all accounts. How long will you be staying?”
“Hard to say,” Ethan replied. “I’m booked in here for two months.”
She tried to hide her shock and failed. “I must say that seems a bit extravagant. Forgive me for asking, but are you sure you can afford it?”
Ethan did not mind her polite probing in the slightest. “I’ve done so well I won’t even feel it.”
“How remarkable. You really must share your secret with Gina’s father.”
“Absolutely. Happy to.”
“That’s very kind. Wouldn’t you agree, dear?”
Gina slumped into the central sofa. She was dressed in cutoffs and a man’s shirt knotted below her ribs. She pulled her feet free of the sandals and tucked them under her thighs. Her hair was the same mess. “Swell.”
“Can I pour you a coffee, Mrs. Devoe?”
“Please. Just milk.”
“Gina?”
“Same as always.”
“It’s been a while, Gina. Remind me.”
“Milk, one sugar.”
He served the ladies, then said, “Maybe we should eat while the food is still fresh.”
Ethan could see Gina wanted to refuse, to stay planted on the sofa and sulk. He followed her mother’s example and pretended all was just fine. “Room service insisted I take something called Jacksonville potatoes. I have no idea what they are.”
“My family has always referred to them as Orleans potatoes. They’re exactly the same as what you’d find anywhere from Alabama to Savannah. Only with a Florida attitude.” Marie glanced at her daughter, then offered Ethan a little smile. “Slice and boil small potatoes, then refry them with peppers and shallots and a tiny hint of garlic.”
Ethan did a one-handed job of loading his plate. “That sounds fabulous.”
“If you took away grits and Orleans potatoes from his diet, the average Southern male would positively shrivel up.” Marie waited as Ethan walked over and pulled back her chair. “I don’t recall ever seeing you demonstrate such manners, young man.”
“I’m a fast learner.” He walked over to where Gina sat scowling at the side wall. She was so angry, and so beautiful, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Hungry?”
Gina rose from the sofa and huffed as she crossed the room to the side table. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Sticking me as far as you can get from your room? I might as well have stayed in Orlando, I’m so far away.”
Ethan stayed a pace or so back, watching her use the spoon with the same vigor as an angry drummer. “You didn’t complain last night.”
“I saw how tired you were.” She marched over and stood by her chair. “What, I don’t get the same service as Mom?”
The tone of her voice as much as her words carried him back to all the arguments that had started just like this. Only now he remained utterly removed. Perhaps it had been the dream. “Of course.” He pulled back her chair and remained standing there until she was settled. “More coffee?”
“I’ll give you more coffee.”
“Gina, dear,” her mother said.
“Don’t you dare start. Who said you should come to Jacksonville anyway? That’s what I want to know.”
Ethan seated himself. “I was going to ask you to invite her.”
That halted both women.
Marie said, “Excuse me?”
Gina said, “You’re making this up as you go along.”
That was so close to the truth he had to laugh.
“Now you’re laughing at me?”
“Gina, you are without a doubt the loveliest woman on earth.”
“Well,” Marie said.
“No I’m not. I’m a mess.”
“An angry mess. And still so very beautiful.”
That calmed things down to where they ate in a more or less civil silence. When the two ladies were finished, Ethan gathered their plates and asked, “More coffee, anyone?”
Marie replied, “I wouldn’t say no to another cup.”
He plied the thermos, then asked, “Now, will somebody tell me what you two were fighting about?”
“You, of course,” Gina replied.
“Only indirectly,” Marie said. “You’re much too charming a host to be the object of so much ire.”
Ethan reseated himself. “Why, Mrs. Devoe. Did you just pay me a compliment?”
She offered Ethan what might have been her first full-fledged smile ever. “Perhaps. It’s such a novel move, I’m not entirely certain.”
“I’ll take it just the same.” He smiled back. “In a heartbeat.”
Gina crossed her arms. “You two are so happy-sappy I’ll just go back to my room and throw a fit.”
“Why bother, dear? There’s more than enough space right here.”
“That is so completely not funny.” Gina huffed. “Mother drove up to demand that I come home.”
“School begins next week, dear.”
“For the tenth and final time—”
“Your mother does make a very good point,” Ethan said in hopes of stopping the quarrel before it could resume.
This time, the silence lasted until Marie said, “Please excuse me while I pick myself up off the floor.”
Ethan could see Gina was still working on a full head of steam. He kept his voice calm, steady. “I need to explain what’s happening at my end.”
“We know all that. You’re dying. And if that’s not enough, you’re trying to make it happen faster by getting yourself shot.” To her mother she said, “And I am staying here because Ethan needs me.”
“I do,” Ethan said. “Need you.”
Marie said, “Clearly I am missing something here. You just said you wanted her to leave.”
“I need help. Desperately. The question is, does Gina want to offer what I need? And is it in her best interest to do so?”
“Who precisely am I addressing?” Marie’s head angled slightly. “Every time you open your mouth, I am flummoxed as to who it is in the room with me.”
“Getting shot at will do that to a fellow, Mrs. Devoe.”
“I think it’s time you called me Marie.”
He smiled his thanks, then said to Gina, “I need to tell you what’s happened to Adrian. And Sonya.”
Marie said, “I’m sorry, that name . . .”
“Ethan’s sister-in-law,” Gina said. “Don’t interrupt.”
Ethan went on, “More importantly, I need to explain what I’m afraid might be happening next.”
By the time the waiter returned to clear the table, Ethan’s head and shoulder throbbed. It felt as if the telling had pummeled his body. Marie noticed and asked, “Should we take a break?”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m due downtown in a couple o
f hours, and there’s more you need to hear.”
Gina asked, “Didn’t they give you something for the pain?”
“Two different pills. And both of the bottles have written in bold, ‘Don’t take these and drive.’”
“I can drive you,” Gina said. “And Mother can get back to Daddy before it gets dark.”
“I have no idea how long these appointments will take,” Ethan warned.
“I want to help,” Gina said, giving her mother the eye.
Marie, however, did not seem willing to resume their earlier dispute. “Why don’t we take this outside and enjoy the air?”
Ethan downed his morning meds and met them in the lobby. Marie had changed into a designer cover-up over a bathing suit. Gina wore a surf-shop tee over a bikini and looked stunning.
They walked the shore for a time in silence. The heat and the movement and the meds worked on his wounds until he was breathing easy enough to say, “I’m the luckiest guy on the beach, sharing the day with two beautiful ladies.”
“Give Mom time,” Gina said. “The charm wears off.”
Marie responded by giving her daughter a one-arm embrace. “Why don’t you tell us what else we need to know.”
As they walked, Ethan described his concerns about the future. That the gunman might in fact not have been acting alone. That some nefarious concern might be hiding behind a supposed revenge shooting. That the Washington investment group seeking to acquire Sonya’s company might in fact have a hand in it all. Which would mean the danger was far from over.
As the hotel came back into view, Ethan said, “We’ve moved a long way from what I know. None of what I’ve just described is definite.”
Marie said, “We needed to understand your concerns.”
Gina’s former ire was gone now, replaced by a calm that mirrored her mother’s. “Mom, I want to stay and help him.”
Marie responded by asking Ethan, “Will my daughter be safe?”
“Gary’s arranged for security details on Adrian and Sonya. I think—I hope—that should be enough to protect them.” Ethan gestured to the hotel. “You see where we are. There’s no reason for us to become targets.”
Marie reached for her daughter’s hand. “I suppose we could ask the university to give you a semester off.”
Ethan heard Gina release a tightly held breath. He said, “I could really use her help.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“I have no idea.”
She managed the trace of a smile. “Honesty is a most refreshing trait in a young man.”
He told Gina, “I’d like to pay you for helping out.”
“I don’t want your money, Ethan.”
“My investments have brought me a lot of income,” Ethan persisted. “You might as well take some of it, use it for school or whatever.”
Marie said, “It may help put things on an official footing with the university, dear.”
Gina did not respond as they crossed the veranda and entered the hotel. As Ethan returned upstairs to shower and change, he realized the meds had created a somewhat muffled distance between him and the day.
When he appeared downstairs, the ladies were waiting in the lobby. Marie gave him a long look—polished loafers, jacket and tie, well-trimmed hair. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter’s former beau?”
They walked Marie out to her Buick, where she embraced him almost as tightly as she did her daughter. “I scarcely know what to tell my husband.”
“It would be nice if you two could come up next weekend,” Ethan said. “My treat.”
“Say yes, Mom,” Gina agreed. “Please.”
“I had best depart before you two say something more and my eyes pop out of my poor head.” She hugged her daughter again, then slipped behind the wheel and was gone.
Gina’s ride was a bright yellow Volkswagen bug, so Ethan insisted they take his BMW. Gina snapped the keys from his grasp and danced her way around to the driver’s side. It was only when she gunned the motor and blasted from the lot that Ethan recalled how awful a driver she had always been. Too late. When she burned rubber at the first traffic light, he could not completely stifle his groan.
She said, “Don’t fuss, else I’ll put you in the back seat.”
“Gina, you don’t need to kiss that truck’s rear end. It won’t make him go any faster.”
“Now you sound like Daddy.”
“Orange light, orange light!”
“Are you feverish?” She shot him a look of mock concern. “Maybe you should tilt your seat back and have a rest.”
“You don’t know where you’re going.”
“I’ll just drive around breaking laws until a cop pulls me over. Then I’ll ask directions.” She smiled brightly. “Does that make your feverish little head feel all better?”
As they entered downtown, the slow-moving traffic gradually brought a semblance of order to Gina’s driving. Ethan leaned against the door so as to study her.
She glanced over. “What is it now?”
He shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Gina.”
Her face crimped up tight, an instantaneous change from bright and sassy to tragic. It was one of her defining traits, how her emotions could shift with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. “Don’t, Ethan. I’m driving.”
He did not turn away. Her driving slowed somewhat. Twice she cleared her face with one hand, quick swipes to either cheek. As if doing it fast would keep him from noticing.
Ethan said, “We haven’t talked about your salary.”
“I told you I don’t want money.”
“I understand. Really. But I want to pay you just the same. It will be something you can show your parents if things get rough.”
“Will it?” His words had the desired effect, bringing her down from the emotional tumult. “Get rough?”
In truth, he had been thinking about his own departure. But this was definitely not the time to bring that up. “Maybe. I hope not.”
Her grip tightened on the wheel. “I want to help you.”
“You already are.”
“No, Ethan. I’m not talking about being your driver.” She stopped for an orange light, ignored the horn from the truck behind them, and swiveled in her seat to face him straight on. “I want to help you.”
Ethan closed his eyes and was instantly swamped by memories of the women he had left behind. The sorrow that had become permanently stained on his ex-wife’s face. Marie’s final days trapped in the wheelchair. And Sonya, leaning over his gurney, old before her time, seamed by loss and despair. He could not blame himself for everything. Some of it, most definitely yes. But what clenched his throat up tight was how he wished he could go back, redo his life and those relationships, and be there for them.
“Ethan?”
He cleared his eyes. “I’m thinking five thousand dollars a week.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Ethan and Gina left the car in the visitors’ parking at Adrian’s office building. He led her across the street and into the clothing store. She protested, “I thought you said we were in a hurry.”
“This can’t wait.”
The owner, Hank, was a dapper gentleman in his late fifties or early sixties, as immaculately groomed as a china doll. “Hail the conquering hero. How is your damaged wing?”
“Healing.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We can’t afford to be losing clients to deranged gunmen.” Hank swept his gaze over Ethan’s clothes. “My, don’t you look dashing. Whoever does your clothes, I wonder.”
“You wouldn’t know him,” Ethan said. “He runs with a bad crowd.”
“I take that as a compliment.” Hank smiled at Gina. “And aren’t you a lovely young lady.”
“This is my assistant, Gina Devoe. I need you to work your magic.”
Gina said, “I can’t afford a place like this.”
“You’re not. I am.” To Hank: “Gina needs to look like the t
op-class young executive she is.”
“It will be my pleasure. Right this way, Ms. Gina.”
The women’s area was reached through a wide archway that formed a mock divide between the two shops. The decor was pastel and muted, whereas the men’s side was leather and oiled wood.
Hank stopped in the middle of the pale blue carpet and swept his hand in an invitation. “See anything you like?”
“My mother would love it here.”
“That is the wrong answer.” He tilted his head at Ethan. “Don’t you need to be somewhere urgent?”
“Absolutely.” He turned to Gina. “Three outfits at a minimum.”
“It will cost you a fortune.”
“That is precisely what I want you to spend,” Ethan replied. “A fortune.”
“And here I thought it was going to be just another of those boring old days.” Hank clasped his hands in front of his chest. “All of my tawdry dreams have just come true.”
Ethan told Gina, “I’ll meet you in Adrian’s office just before noon.”
Gary’s office was a narrow afterthought at the tail end of the partners’ corridor. A single window, less than a foot wide but four feet tall, offered light but no view whatsoever. Gary indicated the empty chair. “Detective in charge of our case just called. The meeting has been put off until tomorrow morning. They’re caught up in something urgent.”
“Fine by me.”
“Meet Beth Helms, one of the senior people at Sinclair Security. If you can’t reach me, you talk to her. We clear?”
Now that he was seated, Ethan’s knees were only a few inches from theirs. Gary’s desk was so narrow Ethan suspected it had been made especially for the place. If Gary minded, he gave no sign.
Ethan said, “What I say to you goes to her, and vice versa.”
Gary nodded. “You okay with that?”
“We need outside help,” Ethan said. “You tell me Sinclair is supposed to be the best.”
“No ‘supposed to be’ about it,” Beth replied. Her brown hair was neatly trimmed and tucked behind her ears, revealing simple gold studs. Her skin was tanned dark as old leather. Her hazel eyes were sharp and arresting in their intensity. “Gary tells me you like fishing the Saint Johns.”
