Deception

by Victoria Saccenti

  She nodded, then turned to look out the window. “Flatbush Avenue,” she murmured absently. “I haven’t been back in two years. It’s totally changed.”

  He drank again. Bad idea; his stomach churned with the sweet liquid.

  “Ma’am?” the driver asked. “Coleman Street is one block over. Is the house closer to Avenue T or S?”

  Soledad leaned forward to point. “It’s on the far corner, by Avenue S. Don’t stop the meter. He’s getting off. I’m going on.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The driver turned right on Coleman and slowed down. Soledad grabbed Joe’s arm. “You’ll be all right. You have my phone number. I’m only two blocks away from the Giordanos. Call me, and I’ll give you directions. My parents are expecting you.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Sole.” He placed his hand over hers.

  “No need, Joe. You and Hunter belong together. That’s the house.” She signaled at one of several Dutch colonial homes lining the street.

  The cab stopped, and he stepped out.

  “Good luck,” she said as he closed the door and the driver pulled away.

  Joe stood at the curb, containing the nervous storm raging inside him. This was worse than his first combat mission in Afghanistan. He’d been edgy then. He was a wreck now.

  A few feet ahead, right in front of the Giordano home, a group of five gangly boys argued over a hopscotch drawing on the sidewalk. Squeezing between the parked cars, Joe moved nearer to listen in.

  “That drawing is stupid, Mickey. We ain’t sissies. Make it bigger.”

  “Where did you get that shitty stone?”

  “Looky here, Bobby’s cussing.”

  “Yeah… Mrs. Esposito can’t hear him. Hey, I’m going first.”

  “Who died and made you king?”

  The last boy startled Joe. He was the male version of his beloved, with the same proud chin, stunning green eyes, and wavy auburn hair. One day, he’d grow up to be a handsome man.

  Crossing his arms, Joe leaned against a car. He watched the game from a close distance. The group completed a full turn without difficulty. The boy he assumed was Kevin scratched his head.

  “I tell ya, guys, look for another rock.”

  “Would a quarter work?” Mickey asked.

  They looked at each other.

  Kevin turned to Joe. “What d’you think, mister?”

  Joe pointed at himself.

  The boy nodded.

  Memories of his youth filled Joe’s mind. He pulled out the can of soda from his jacket pocket and shook the remaining drops on the sidewalk, then dropped it on the cement and, with the heel of his boot, stomped on the can until it was totally flat. He picked it up and offered it to Kevin.

  “You want a real challenge? Use this instead of a rock.”

  Kevin’s green eyes sparkled at Joe with excitement.

  “It takes skill to toss the can on the square. Too hard, it slides out, too soft, it doesn’t make it. Give it a try,” Joe said.

  “Thanks, mister.” Kevin held up the flattened can. “Check this out, guys.”

  The group cheered, and the game resumed amid hoots, happy yells, and a ton of hand gestures and playful shoves.

  For several minutes, Joe chuckled at their antics. Then the home’s storm door opened, and he froze. Hunter, in all her glory, wearing jeans, a plain sweatshirt, and her hair pulled in a ponytail, came out.

  “Kevin,” she called out. “Lunch is—” She saw Joe and stopped. Her balance seemed to falter, and she clung to the doorframe as her skin lost all color. Her mouth made a small circle.

  “Oh, Ma. I’m not hungry.”

  Her son’s protest snapped her back to reality. Frowning, she shook her finger in the air. “Inside, young man. Grammy has lunch on the table. Boys, go home. Your moms called too. You can play all afternoon.”

  Kevin snuck under her arm, and she walked out, allowing the door to close behind her. Slowly, she stepped down the stoop to the walkway. Joe approached her.

  “Joe,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest in a clear defensive gesture. “This is a surprise.”

  He didn’t breach her personal space.

  “Kevin’s a handsome boy.”

  She gave a half smile. “He’s my pride and joy.”

  “He favors you.”

  “Does he?”

  “Absolutely.” He rubbed his chin. “You left without a word.” He kept the reproach light.

  She nodded. “More like escaped. Not very brave on my part, but I couldn’t handle seeing you. It hurts too much.”

  “May I explain? Will you listen with an open mind? Can you do that?”

  “I’ll try. Come.” She gestured to the stoop. “Let’s sit. I don’t want my mother interfering or eavesdropping on our conversation.”

  Joe sat next to her. Her warmth reached out to him, and her soft perfume invaded his nostrils. It took every bit of strength in him not to take her, kiss her, fill every cell of his body with her essence. His mind rebelled. His heart ached. His arms demanded he hold her.

  He did nothing.

  “Do you remember what I said the night before you left?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Here’s the letter that started everything. Read it.” He handed her the envelope, then crossed his hands as he leaned on his knees.

  Her eyes widened. “My name is written on the return address.”

  “And inside as well.”

  She unfolded the paper. “But… I don’t get it. I didn’t write this.”

  He bobbed his head. “Soledad told me.”

  “Oh.” Her hand covered her mouth as she continued reading. “This is terrible. It makes me look really bad.”

  “Yes. That was the intention. When the letter arrived in Afghanistan, it destroyed the young man who received it. I met Billy in training, and we served together. We were close, almost like brothers. He was a good kid, generous, smart, and funny, so full of life. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

  “Joe, you have to believe me.” She grimaced. “I’d never write something so cruel.”

  “I know you wouldn’t. Soledad explained about Billy’s crazy mother. She thinks, and I agree, his mother was the author. The tragic irony is that in her lunacy, she victimized three people. One died.”

  He exhaled and continued. “Please try to see our situation. Our lives depended on the men we fought with. We were in a remote zone, separated from everyone we love and surrounded by hostiles.” He extended his hand, indicating distance. “I saw the pain and heartache the letter inflicted, then Billy’s final act and utter destruction. I told you, that moment will be embedded in my mind until I die. The op unraveled before my eyes. I couldn’t do anything to help or stop it.” He sighed.

  “You didn’t know me from Adam.” She folded the paper, tucked it inside the envelope, and returned it to him.

  “Dan in his apparent dislike”—he was afraid to even look at her—“which I now understand is jealous desire, exaggerated your story. You were a cold, heartless siren and a man-eater. But the only thing that mattered to me was that my war buddy had been betrayed. He’d died because of your words. So yes, in that moment, I planned my revenge.”

  “It’s a miracle you didn’t hate me,” she murmured.

  “You were the miracle.” He casually wiped a smudge off the tip of his boot. “Much as I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. You attracted my curiosity and interest, and as time passed, I realized you couldn’t have written that message. So I squashed the plan. I didn’t tell you because I had ended it. In retrospect, I should’ve taken the chance and told you. Unfortunately, Dan overheard my conversation with Master Kurt and took it out of context.”

  He wiped the dust off his hands. “My feelings haven’t changed. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman and a sub. I won’t say the L word. Not until I prove myself worthy and you ask me to say it.”

  Joe stood, smoothing the wrinkles off his pants. “
I hope you’re still planning to get your license. Will you return to Florida?”

  She looked up at him. “Yes. None of that’s changed. I’m taking Kevin down soon. He needs me.”

  “Good move. He does need his mother.” He smiled.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Over to Soledad’s parents. They’ve offered me a cot for the night. I fly down tomorrow.”

  Hunter stood. “She’s here? Really? She came up?”

  “Yep. She’s a good friend. She took the opportunity to visit her parents while guiding me to this part of Brooklyn. Honestly, I’d be lost without her, or stuck in the city searching for a place called Marine Park.” He chuckled. “Take care, Hunter. Please.”

  “Joe, I…” She extended her hand. Her voice cracked. “It still hurts.”

  He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to grasp her fingers and kiss them.

  “I know.” He walked to the corner and disappeared without looking back.

  Hunter was in a trance. She couldn’t look away from the corner of Coleman and S where Joe had turned out of sight. A powerful sob exploded from her chest, racking her body. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her soul demanded she run after him, but her stubborn feet remained rooted to the ground.

  Hurried steps sounded behind her, and a pair of slim arms circled her waist.

  “Is he a friend, Mommy?”

  “Yes, baby. He is.”

  “But you’re crying. Did he hurt you?”

  “No, sweetheart.” She covered his hands with hers. “Mommy’s being silly.”

  “He seemed nice. He gave us this cool marker. I kinda liked him, but if he hurt you…”

  She wiped her face dry.

  Disengaging his arms, she turned to face him. “Hmm, what have I told you about strangers?”

  “Uh…” Kevin scrunched his face. “Not to talk to them?”

  “Exactly.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “But you know him. He isn’t a stranger.”

  “Kevin,” she warned.

  He grinned. “The guys were there. If he’d tried anything, we’d kick, knee, and punch him.” He emphasized his words with gestures.

  “Good Lord. I better enroll you in a martial arts class.” She mussed his hair. “Channel all that energy. Did you finish your food?”

  “All done.”

  “Good. Sit with me while I eat. The guys will be here soon.”

  She held Kevin’s slim shoulders—her lifeline in the midst of raging waters. As they walked inside, she pushed away all thoughts of Joe Reid, despite her screaming heart.

  November 2012

  Orlando, Florida…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  WITH HER BRIEFCASE firmly clutched under her arm and her purse hooked over her shoulder, Hunter rushed out of the elevator and into the stately, high-ceiling lobby. She passed by the metal detectors, scanning a line of folks seeking entry to the courthouse, and walked out to the afternoon sunshine. Squinting, she stood on the huge porch as she searched for her shades. Once she perched the glasses on the bridge of her nose, she walked past the massive colonnade decorating the building’s façade and took the steps down.

  As she cut through the large cement entryway toward the employee parking area, a somewhat familiar figure stepped out from under the shade of a palm tree arrangement close to her and waved. She searched through her mind, then saw the cane and smiled.

  “Master Kurt, what a nice surprise.” She glanced quickly at her watch. She had a few minutes to spare before picking up Kevin.

  “You look great, Hunter.” He kissed her cheek and fell in step with her.

  “Thanks, I love the job. I just got assigned a new case. I didn’t realize that the need for court translators was so high. What brings you here?”

  “Actually, I had a late lunch with a friend at a nearby coffee shop.” He pointed with his cane to the north corner of Orange. “On my way to my car, I checked the time and thought maybe I’d get lucky and catch you. On Fridays, city workers go home by four.” He laughed.

  “Well, you have uncanny timing.” She eyed him as she slowed her pace a little. Master Kurt had difficulty walking, and Kevin could wait a few minutes.

  “It’s called kismet. Where are you headed, my dear?” he asked softly.

  “To pick up my son, Kevin.”

  “Ah, your boy. You must be so happy to have him with you. I hear he’s as handsome as his mother is beautiful.” He tapped the cement in a curious rhythm as he walked.

  Heat flushed her cheeks. “You flatter me, Master Kurt. Um, who told you he’s handsome?”

  “Who else?” His dark eyes sparked with meaning.

  The pang in her chest stopped her in her tracks.

  “What’s wrong?” He grasped her arm.

  “I… I won’t attempt to hide the truth from you. You’re too savvy and too observant. I’m so conflicted.” She sighed. “I want to forget him, yet I can’t stop thinking about him. The last time I saw him was months ago. I fear he’s forgotten about me.” She raised a shoulder. “Just as well.”

  Releasing her arm, Kurt continued striding. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but Joe’s followed your progress, in a non-stalker kind of way. If you get my meaning.”

  She tightened the hold on her briefcase. “How?”

  “Well, his father has connections from the days when he practiced law.”

  “Uh-huh, and?”

  “After your test scores came back—congratulations, by the way, I hear you aced them—Joe ensured your application would be reviewed and not get buried in the slush pile.”

  She frowned. “Does that mean I got special treatment? How dare he?”

  Rolling his eyes, Kurt tutted with his tongue. “Your fuse is too short, my dear. Get off the ledge. No one gave you a special anything. He spoke to the right people about your application. The scores were yours. The decision was theirs. Big difference.”

  “Sorry.” She scrunched her nose. “I do that sometimes.”

  “Yeah, sounds like you’re in dire need of your Dom and a little discipline.” He chuckled. “As I was saying, he watched from a distance and got you the help you needed to get on your feet. We all can use help now and then, and you’re a single mother. You need it more than most.”

  “Does that mean the timely opening in daycare was Joe’s doing too?”

  Kurt arched an eyebrow. “He didn’t throw anyone out, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “No, of course not. What about the cute affordable cottage?”

  “That too,” he murmured.

  A panoramic scene opened in her mind. She saw herself hustling around town, filling out applications and forms, while, a silent Joe came behind, ensuring everything worked out for her.

  “I see…”

  “Look.” He struck the cane on the ground. “I have to stop here. I’m going too far from my car and my knee doesn’t like it. We all agree Joe made a terrible mistake. Remember, though, he didn’t act on that ridiculous idea. In fact, he came to the realization that you didn’t write that letter on his own. He had no explanation for it, and… That’s what we spoke about the day Dan misconstrued what he overheard.”

  He grasped her hand. “Ever since you broke up, he’s been making amends by helping and taking care of your needs from the shadows. He misses you. You two should be together. It’s a pity you can’t find the way back to each other.” He jabbed the cane again. “There. I spoke my piece. Have a nice day.”

  As he walked away, Hunter rushed to him.

  “Master Kurt, I have a question.”

  “Yes?” He stopped midstep.

  “Has Joe changed his phone number?”

  “Nope. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She clutched his shoulder and dropped a kiss on his weathered cheek. “Thank you. You’re an angel.”

  “Hmm.” A strangled noise escaped his throat. “I’ve been accused of many things. But an angel?” He s
coffed and kept on walking.

  The following week, the first autumn wave of the season brought tornado warnings and heavy rains to Central Florida two days in a row. By Saturday morning, however, the ugly weather passed, leaving behind a dry, cool day.

  As Hunter stirred the oatmeal on the stove, her personal whirlwind rushed into the kitchen full of excitement.

  “Lookit, Mom,” Kevin exclaimed. “It’s great out. The guys and me are gonna set up a soccer pitch in the yard.” He sat by the small nook table, shaking side to side.

  Hunter eyed him. “Kevin, honey. The right way is…the guys and I.”

  “Sure, Mommy.” Kevin grinned. “I forgot.”

  She sighed, letting the grammar lesson pass. She’d learned to pick the battles she could win. At the moment, her son’s mind was fully occupied with arranging the game and gathering his buddies—nothing else would stick.

  “Hungry?” She placed the steaming bowl in front of him.

  “Yes. Yum.” He dug in.

  Amazingly enough, Kevin loved oatmeal with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar—not too much, please. Here was one of those battles: serving a healthy, nutritious breakfast kids would eat was a daily struggle for most moms. She didn’t even have to fight.

  He ate with gusto. He blew on the heaping spoon until it cooled enough for him to swallow and get the next one in. In minutes, he’d emptied the bowl and pushed the chair back, ready to bolt.

  “All right.” She pointed. “Brush your teeth, and you’re free. Oh, and Kevin…”

  “Uh-huh?” He stopped.

  “Mark the pitch in our yard, not on the street, and I want to see you through the windows at all times. Is that clear?”

  “Affirmative.” He gave her a thumbs-up and ran out.

  Soon, loud voices and laughter reached her inside the house. Drawing up the window shades, she glanced out. Eight boys marked boundaries and goal posts. Four against four; this was going to be a serious match.

  She returned to the kitchen to prepare a large pitcher of sweet iced tea. In about thirty minutes or so, a stampede of flushed, thirsty kids would run in asking for something to drink.