“I told you it was bad timing.”
“Ya think? Why are we drinking wine? Are we done for the day?”
“Close enough. I’ll order Chinese.”
“I’m staying here tonight?”
“If that’s all right. I picked up a few of your things and threw them in a bag. Thought we’d mix it up a little. No sense being too predictable if you’re being watched. By the way, did you ever find out from your mother if those were her guys following you?”
She sat down. “No. I didn’t want to get into it.”
He handed her his phone. “Call her, please. Now.”
She took the phone but just held it. “But if she didn’t hire them, Jack, then she is going to be psycho worried if I ask her about it.”
“Did you tell the detectives this morning about them?”
She shook her head.
“From past experience,” he said gruffly, taking his phone back, “I have to say it really helps to have all the facts when attempting to solve a crime.”
“I was just so sure they were hers.”
“And now?”
She didn’t answer. He handed her the remote to the TV and the little dog ran into the room and jumped up onto the couch next to her.
“Daisy’ll keep you company. I’ll be back in five.” He gave her a meaningful look and went through the kitchen to the back deck and shut the door.
“Daddy’s annoyed with us,” Mia whispered to the dog as she pulled her onto her lap and pointed the remote at the flat screen TV.
* * *
Jack stood on the deck and dialed Mia’s mother’s number.
“Mrs. Kazmaroff? This is Jack Burton. Your son’s partner on the force?”
“I know who you are, Detective,” Jess Kazmaroff said into the phone, her delight at hearing from him clearly evident. “I hope everything is going well with you? Mia told me you left the force to open up your own business.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am, that’s right.” Burton turned his attention to Peachtree Creek in his backyard. It was only a little after seven and the sound of rush hour traffic was still deafening. “The reason I’m calling is that Mia mentioned to me that you once hired a team of independent security to follow her…”
“Oh! I can’t believe she’s still mad about that. It was nothing. I had a couple of friends do me a favor and, honestly, Detective, if you could’ve seen some of the things that little scamp was into back then, you would not have faulted me. Not for one minute.”
“No, ma’am, and I’m not faulting you now only—and I could very well be mistaken except I prefer to err on the side of caution if you get my meaning—I was wondering if you’d done it lately.”
There was a pause on the line and Burton brought his attention away from the creek. Please let this be her about to confess that she hired them.
“I…no, Detective. I promised Mia I would never do something like that again and even Dave told me it was more likely to frighten her than protect her. Frankly, when I heard she was spending so much time with you, well, I have slept well these last nights, Detective, knowing she’s as safe as she can possibly be.”
Someone else was watching Mia.
“I see. Well, that’s good, Mrs. Kazmaroff…”
“Please call me Jess, Detective. Jack. I’m glad you called because it gives me the opportunity to thank you for looking out for her. I know Dave would appreciate it. And I want you to know that I do, too.”
“Sure. No problem. Glad to help. Well, that was all I needed. I hope you’re doing okay there.”
“I would love a visit from you and Mia. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Uh, yes, okay. We can do that.”
“Wonderful! I’ll start baking tonight. Give her my love, please, Jack. And thank you again. A mother sleeps well in her bed tonight because of you.”
When Jack disconnected, he heard the sounds of a laugh track coming in from the living room where Mia was watching television. He stood listening, and feeling for a moment that his life had become very unreal.
What am I doing? What am I doing with this woman? Am I having some kind of mental breakdown? Is it possible to feel this connected to someone in such a short time?
He watched Mia’s profile through the dining room window, the puppy nestled in her arms and he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her.
No matter what.
11
When Diane thought of all the times she’d prayed that Jack wouldn’t think to collect the rest of his belongings, she knew what she had really been praying for was that he’d forget this one thing. Everything else meant nothing to him, she knew. But this, she thought, eyeing the oblong box on the dining room table, this he will return for. One day.
The rain hadn’t let up all afternoon and the light in early November was gray and depressing. Calling in sick hadn’t helped. Every time she looked around her living room—her bedroom, the kitchen—she saw Jack. Even though this wasn’t the house they shared in their marriage, she had brought enough of their things to it that she knew in her heart she’d brought the essence of him, too.
How many times had he visited her here? Twice? Both times just to drop off useless items she’d left behind that she insisted she needed. One of those times, he’d asked about the few things she’d inadvertently packed up with her that belonged to him.
She told him she’d look for them. She certainly wasn’t trying to steal his stuff and he was quick to reassure her that he knew that. Still…they were valuable to him and if she could make the effort to find them for him, he would be grateful.
Just not grateful in a way that would change her life very much.
Tonight she had come so close to calling him and leaving the message that she knew he wanted to hear—that she’d found the box he was looking for.
She poured the last of the Pinot into her wine glass, surprised it was gone so soon. Just thinking of the fact that she’d have to leave a message made her clench and unclench her hands in fury. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a call from her. And after that little scene in the coffee shop, she was sure he never would now.
She drained her glass and thought back to Jack’s insinuation that she might have something to do with Dave’s death. How had he made that leap? She was so sure he wouldn’t go there. She had never meant for it to go this far. Not with Dave, certainly. What a mistake that had been. And now with Jack.
Hadn’t she always known it would end this way? Hadn’t she always known their story would end in tears? She turned to the box and tried to shake off her disappointment. She would need to be in total control in order do this thing right, to finish their story. If she didn’t, she knew what the result would be.
She would end up alone. And Jack would move on to someone else.
And that could not happen.
With resolve, her stomach buckling, she positioned the shoebox in front of her on the dining room table—the table that he had made with his own hands the first year they were married. Everything he cared about was in this box. She could no longer wait for him to ask again.
The photo was the first thing she unwrapped. Framed and ready for someone’s desk. Only this was one photo that would never be displayed. Under the photo was a packet of papers, an old passport and a twisted piece of metal, its edges still sharp.
On the bottom of the box, she found her ace in the hole, her last stand, her grand play.
The moment her fingers touched the item nestled in the tissue paper, she felt a sudden peace that had eluded her since the day Jack walked out of her life. And she knew with sudden clarity and purpose, if not tonight, then soon.
With trembling fingers, she pulled the Army issue handgun from the shoebox.
***
The remnants of the Mu shu pork littered the coffee table in little white boxes and Mia was annoyed by how much she’d eaten.
Way to show him how delicate you are, she thought before catching herself. This isn’t a date. We’re partners.
<
br /> But somehow it kept coming back to feeling like the beginning of a relationship. How could Dave not have gotten along with Jack? she found herself wondering again as she sat on his couch, her feet tucked under her, the television droning. So much had happened so suddenly it was hard to keep straight in her mind what it was she was supposed to be doing.
Fortunately for both of them, Jack didn’t seem to be having that kind of trouble.
“Okay,” he said, pushing away from the devastation of take-out containers in front of him and picking up his wine glass. “Let’s line up the facts in no particular order. You’re being followed. You were attacked and warned not to investigate Dave’s death any further—”
“Dave was murdered.”
“I was coming to that.”
“Do you think it could be a departmental cover up?”
“In what way?”
“You know, someone on the force kills Dave and gets his pals to rule it an accident so nobody investigates.”
“They’re investigating it now.”
“Yes, but only after you had your doctor friend establish grounds for a suspicious death.”
“Let’s hold off on the theories until we can look at all the facts.”
“Continue.”
“We’ve got an attack on you and a successful attack on your brother.”
“Jack, I’m sure the attack on me was because I was looking into the attack on my brother. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. But what we know for sure is that you aren’t safe—”
“And someone doesn’t want us investigating what happened to Dave.”
“Maybe.”
“And so far, with the exception of Heather, we haven’t been able to eliminate any suspects from our list.”
“You do know that touching people won’t hold up as any kind of evidence, don’t you?”
“It will at least get us pointed in the right direction. Speaking of which, why do you live here? Everything I touch in this place is full of sadness. It’s like a museum of artifacts all designed to bum you out.”
“Then don’t touch anything.”
“Isn’t this the same house you lived in with your ex-wife?”
“There’s nothing wrong with this house.”
“Except that it’s not a good house for someone who needs to move on. Why not find a nice house that was only the scene of a triple homicide or something? You know, jolly things up a bit.”
“You are very funny.”
“Then how come you’re not smiling?”
“I’m trying to figure out what our next move is.”
“That’s easy.”
“Oh?”
“Get everyone together in one big room, supply them with lots of alcohol so their guards are down and let me touch each one of them. I guarantee I’ll find the one who’s got a boatload of guilt or who’s just so mind-numbingly evil it’s ricocheting off of him in waves.”
“Okay, we are not going to do that.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“My plan is simple. Keep you safe. Keep updated on what the team actually assigned to this case is doing, and…no, that’s pretty much it.”
“No questioning suspects?”
“How’d that work out for us today?”
“You never told me why Carol slapped you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Jack. We’re partners. She’s a suspect in the murder of my brother.” She pointed to his cheek. “That was an extreme reaction, some might say a guilty reaction.”
“She made a pass, I said no thanks, she got pissed.”
“Oh.” Mia frowned and felt a needle of jealousy work its way up her spine. She clenched her fists. “She has a lot of nerve. She’s married, right?”
“You know she is,” he said. “You also know she probably slept with Dave, and that the main reason you got her to come here today was by dangling me as your boy-bait. So how are you surprised?”
“I’m not.” But hearing the blow-by-blow and knowing it intellectually were two different things. She stood up, feeling suddenly antsy. “Where am I sleeping tonight? I’m happy to take the couch.”
Jack stood. “I’m taking the couch. There are too many windows in here.”
“You really think they’ll come after me again?”
“Why chance it?” he said, scooping up the dog. “Go ahead and change while I let Daisy out.”
Mia pulled out her sweatpants, tee shirt and short cotton robe from the overnight bag Jack had put together for her and found herself smiling. He was very observant to remember what she slept in. She changed and brushed her teeth and went back to the living room where he was putting sheets on the couch.
“I hate taking your bed,” she said.
“Don’t be. The couch is very comfortable.”
“Had occasion to sleep on it before, have you?” He looked at her in surprise. Mia had no idea why she said that. Was she trying to goad him? Was there something about Carol’s stunt today that Mia just couldn’t get past? Did she want him to say it wasn’t just Carol’s amorous attentions he wasn’t interested in but his ex-wife’s too?
“Can’t you tell just by touching it?” he asked, his eyes unreadable.
“You mean can I feel that it’s full of recent, unfulfilled sexual tension?” She saw him moving toward her and it wasn’t until much later that she realized she’d dropped her robe before he came for her.
He caught her up in his arms, but her lips were on his before he’d even bent his face to her. The exquisite feel of his arms encasing her, lifting her off her feet, as she abandoned herself to the kiss radiated through her like an electric charge. She moaned and ran her fingers through his thick hair as he shifted her higher into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt one of his hands drop to hold her ass.
“We shouldn’t…” he whispered, his lips on her neck, his kisses thrilling her from her throat to her left earlobe.
“Don’t talk,” she gasped. “And don’t stop.”
He tossed her on the couch and was on top of her. She felt the excitement of knowing he wanted her—wanted her right now.
She reached down to pull at his leather belt. She couldn’t undo it but she could let him know what she wanted.
He sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Mia, no,” he said.
“Don’t tell me no,” she said, tugging harder on the belt. “Make love to me, Jack.” Her eyes were open and watching his face a mask of effort and concentration.
“No, Mia,” he said, his face twisted into what looked like physical pain. “We shouldn’t.”
“Who says we shouldn’t?”
With a single groan of frustration, he pulled away from her and staggered across the living room.
For a stunned moment Mia stayed immobile on the couch. Then she swung her legs off the couch. The insistent feeling of desire would not abate even in the face of humiliating rejection. She wanted to hit something. Or scream.
He stood facing away from her, his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, Mia,” he said. “You’re very vulnerable right now and I—”
“Look, I get it, Jack,” she said getting up and moving to the bedroom. “I have no idea of what came over me and trust me, it won’t happen again.”
He turned to look at her. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“I often do, Jack, so that doesn’t surprise me. I’m tired and am turning in. Thanks for dinner.” She went to the bedroom and shut the door between them.
How had she misread him? Hadn’t he reached for her first? Didn’t he want her?
She shook her head in mortification. How was she ever going to face him tomorrow?
She went to the full size bed and slipped between the sheets, knowing full well she’d never be able to fall asleep. She’d face him tomorrow by pretending it never happened. Knowing Jack, the last thing he’d want to do was talk about it.
She listened for sounds in the living room and heard his steps mo
ve to her door and then stop. She didn’t lift her head but saw the door open slowly—and then little Daisy, who had obviously been sitting by the door—flew into the room and settled down on the bed. Mia pulled the dog close in to her body and instantly began to relax.
Before she drifted off, it occurred to her that the feelings Jack had brought out in her tonight seemed to heighten her sense of her ‘gift.’
Amazingly, she found herself wondering if it was possible that the one thing she’d made sure to stay away from, sexual contact, was the one thing that could actually help her get it under control?
***
Technically, Burton thought, nothing happened. Except even without doing the deed, everything was changed. He cursed himself most of the night until the morning when it became clear that Mia was going on the if-we-don’t-talk-about-it-nothing-happened principle. Relieved but tormented by how much he still wanted her, it was all he could do not to be the one who broke down and trotted it all out in the open.
I can’t seduce Dave’s sister! The woman is still grieving. Plus, she’s in danger. Her damn mother just got through thanking me for looking out for her!
What a fool he’d been. Having her spend the night—Chinese take-out—like it’s some kind of bizarre date night when he was so into her he couldn’t concentrate on basic every day functions, had been pure madness.
The girl’s a damn virgin, for crying out loud.
She sat on the barstool at his kitchen counter sipping a large mug of freshly brewed coffee, her hands wrapped around the mug, her eyes downward as if drinking it took all her concentration. He’d made eggs again and pushed a plate across the counter to her but she shook her head.
“You should eat,” he said realizing he was saying it only because he didn’t know what else to say.
“What are you doing today?”
He couldn’t help notice how beautiful she looked this morning. Her complexion was radiant—even without a stitch of makeup that he could see—and her eyes were large and clear. Her lips….Dear God, this was impossible! He turned away from her to face the stove and the skillet of scrambled eggs.
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