"Absolutely." He cupped my shoulder in one big hand for a second and then walked down the street towards the police station and whatever his actual destination was. I watched him go for a little while, but the warmth and excitement from our conversation faded as his wide back retreated in the distance.
Completely thrown, I realized I wasn't in any condition to talk to the cops or anyone else just yet. If I went in looking and feeling like I did they'd either lock me up or laugh me out of the building. I needed time to think and prepare. I realized I was stalling, but seeing Sam reminded me that I had a lot to lose if I handled things wrong. After casting one last glance over my shoulder, I walked back up the block to the bus stop and waited for a ride home.
Chapter Six
The next day at work, I was as jumpy as a cat. Every time the door opened or the phone rang, I freaked out. I'd barely slept the night before, turning the situation over and over in my mind, trying to find a perfect solution that didn't exist. My nerves were completely shot by the time Mitchell showed up, but I managed to at least act as if everything was okay.
"Good morning," I said, getting up to fetch him a cup of coffee like always.
"Anything important happening right now?"
"No. But…there is something I want to talk to you about."
"Fine. Bring my coffee back to my office and give me an hour. I'll let you know when I'm ready." With that, he stomped down the hallway and slammed his door. Even for The Slug, that was rude.
I dumped the usual tooth-ache inducing amount of sugar into his coffee and stirred it, wondering how to approach him. I knew I couldn't come right out and accuse him of being involved in selling drugs. But maybe there was a way to find out what he did know without being so obvious.
With a derisive snort, I rolled my eyes at myself. "Yeah right. Because you're Veronica Mars and Nancy Drew all of the sudden?"
The fact was, I had no idea what I'd gotten into and the only people I could turn to were the police. I delivered The Slug's coffee and went back to my desk, but got very little accomplished.
Finally, Mitchell yelled through his door for me to come back there. Why he couldn't use the intercom button that was three inches from his hand I've never understood, but he never did.
I switched the phones over and went back, chewing on my lower lip relentlessly. I knocked on the door and pushed it open.
"Sit down and shut the door, Carly."
I did, perching on the end of the metal folding chair that serves as his "guest seat."
"Before you start justifying your behavior, just tell me what happened yesterday."
"I…Well, I was in early, as you requested. Dr. Kent called to check in on his pick-up because Darius was running late. I tried to find him, but-"
"Stop. I don't give a shit about some flaky bike messenger. Tell me why this office was locked up tight all day."
"What?" I'd been so busy rattling off the little speech I'd practiced that I forgot to actually listen to what he said. "Oh. The two things are related."
He sighed and pursed his slimy little lips. "Fine. Go on."
I gulped. "So, like I said, I was trying to hunt down Darius but I couldn't. And Dr. Kent seemed kind of impatient. I didn't want to lose an important customer, so I told him I'd take care of it."
"And did you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Well no one else was here, so I borrowed one of the bikes and made the delivery myself."
He shot to his feet, face going bright red. "You what?"
"I picked up the package and delivered it. A little late, but that was better than nothing."
I couldn't tell what the look on Mitchell's face meant, but it wasn't good. A vein in his forehead pulsed and I shrank back instinctively.
As if he'd just noticed he was standing, Mitchell looked down at his desk and then sat back down, but his face was still the color of a ripe tomato. "Okay. Then what?"
"When I got back I, um…didn't feel well. So after some of the guys came in, I asked them to cover the phones and went home sick. I'm sorry and I know I should have called you, but I…"
I held up my hands and looked at him. My god, he was furious. I could practically see the noxious waves of anger coming off of him.
"Do you have any idea what you've done, Carly?"
"Yes. No. I mean, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure how to handle it and I did the best I could."
"You're not a delivery girl. You're the office girl."
"I know. It will never happen again. I can try to come up with a system when there's a situation like this. Maybe a policy for some of the guys to be on-call? I'll figure something out."
"Damn it, I don't give a shit about that right now. If that package hadn't made it, I'd be ruined, do you understand that?"
"Yes," I whispered, even though I knew he didn't really need me to respond.
"There are…uh..." he paused as if searching for the right words, "Insurance considerations here. If you can't be more responsible, I'll have to reconsider your place at this company."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Good." He cleared his throat a couple of times. "Now, go back to work. I have things to do."
I stood up and nodded before heading back out to my desk on shaky legs. When I sat down, I noticed the phone assigned to Darius was still in its charger, which meant he still hadn't come in.
Trying to put the confrontation with Mitchell behind me, I opened the day's schedule. All of the runs normally assigned to Darius had been portioned out to the other guys. That was weird. If he was sick or qui,t why hadn't Mitchell mentioned it?
I was about to go ask him when an idea flared in the back of my mind, growing bigger and bigger. The Slug's overreaction, Darius's mysterious disappearance. It had to be related to the drugs; the timing was too coincidental. Which meant my boss was involved. And he knew what was in the package I'd accidentally delivered. But he didn't know about my fall or that I'd seen the contents of the delivery, so he had no reason to suspect I knew what he was up to. Or so I hoped.
My first instinct was to run. Grab my purse and just get the hell out of there. But that would only make Mitchell suspicious. I thought about calling Anna, but I didn't want to drag her into this mess. Besides, I knew she'd tell me to forget about the job and the cops and just leave. She'd say nothing mattered more than my safety, which was true – to a point. Every minute I didn't report what I saw, things got worse for me.
Another panic attack was brewing in me and I had to stop it. Had to find time to calmly decide what to do. Everything would be fine if I could just settle down enough to think.
But this was not a day for calm or thinking. Within minutes, I was so busy I barely had time to eat lunch and get bathroom breaks. It seemed the changes The Slug made to the schedule had messed everyone up, and a huge accident downtown was just making it worse. We were a guy down and twice as busy as a regular Tuesday.
I spent the rest of the day on the phone, trying to keep deliveries on track and customers happy. Mitchell, of course, was no help at all. On the rare occasions he emerged from his office, he pointedly ignored my pleas for assistance and went on doing whatever the hell he was doing. Two trips to the storage room, a nice long cigarette break and a series of long phone calls were all I noticed, but he must have accomplished something.
By the time the day was over, I felt completely drained. I was halfway home on the bus when I remembered my date with Sam. I had to cancel. This was not the time to be going out to dinner. But in the selfish part of me, I didn't want to cancel. I wanted to go out with a hot guy and forget about all of my troubles. Besides, I wasn't going to make any decisions that night anyway. Might as well have a good time while I still could.
Thoroughly convinced, I got showered and changed quickly, and was sitting in my nicest dress and heels when Sam buzzed my apartment. I asked if he wanted to come up, but he said we had a reservation to meet.
I went down and climbed into his car, the black
sedan he'd been standing next to when I saw him yesterday.
"You look great," he said as I settled in and buckled my seatbelt.
"So do you." That was an understatement. He was stunning in a dark suit and no tie. His hair was slicked back and the spicy scent of his aftershave filled the car. I was really happy I'd gone all out in a deep red dress that showed off my cleavage, cinched in my waist and flared to make my curves look sexy instead of bulky.
We made somewhat awkward small-talk on the way to the restaurant. It was weird getting to know someone you've already had sex with. But Sam was funny and did more than his share of carrying the conversation.
So many heads turned as we walked through the restaurant to our table that I peeked over my shoulder to see if someone famous was coming in after us. But no, they were just staring at Sam. And I couldn't blame them. His long, sinuous stride reminded me of a lion, all grace and power.
He put his hand on the small of my back as he slid past me to sit in the chair against the wall. I'd been hoping to sit there myself for the people-watching possibilities, but it wasn't important.
By the time we settled in, my nerves were completely jangled. I practically screamed "Yes" when the waiter asked if we wanted a drink while we looked over the menus. A little alcohol was exactly what I needed to chill the hell out before I bolted.
Sam cocked his head to the side and eyed me. "You look terrified."
I snorted. "I am. But pretend you can't tell, okay?"
"Not a chance." He bumped my leg with his under the table. "What's wrong?"
"It's not you, I swear. You're perfect. Which is part of the problem."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm a mess. And you're so perfect you even notice I'm a mess and try to help."
"Ah, I see. Well, I will try to ignore your feelings. Is that better?"
A genuine smile spread across my face. "Much. Thanks."
"Good. Now, what else is wrong?"
"What happened to ignoring my feelings?"
He smiled slyly. "I lied. Tell me."
"It's nothing. Just a really bad day."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. Fuck, no." I cringed at my word choice and hung my head. "God, I am such a loser right now. You'd think I was some rube who's never been in a nice restaurant before."
Sam chuckled. "I don't care. And I don't want you to be anyone besides who you are. Besides," he continued, voice lowered. "I like when you talk dirty."
I bit my lower lip as a bolt of heat went through me.
"Mmm. Mission accomplished," Sam said.
"What?"
"Got you to stop thinking about your problems, didn't I?"
"Yes," I admitted. "I'm thinking about something very different now."
"Good."
"For you, maybe."
"For us," he replied. "We're going to have a wonderful evening. Good food and conversation. Then I'm going to take you home and make you forget every bad thing that's ever happened in your entire life."
"Every single one? That will be difficult."
"I like a challenge. And I'm willing to work for it."
I thought back to our first night together and realized he probably could do it.
"Well, then. Let's get the dinner part over with, shall we?"
Sam smiled and winked then turned his attention to the menu.
As good as the food looked when it arrived, my stomach was still roiling from the day's events and I didn't eat much. Sam noticed, of course, but didn't say anything. He devoured his food and most of mine with relish. It made me laugh to watch him just sucking things down like he didn't give a shit what anyone thought.
And as I got further through the bottle of wine we ordered, I did relax a bit. We chatted amiably, covering important topics like the pathetic records of the local sports teams and the most bizarre members of our respective families.
Sam was smart, but down-to-earth. He alternated between teasing me like a sibling and flirting with me shamelessly. It kept me on my toes and I loved it. I kept drinking until the diners and servers around us were just a colorful blur outside the little world that was our table.
After sharing a giant slice of cake that exhausted even my desire for chocolate, I blearily offered to pay the check, and Sam declined. "Could you even figure out the math for the tip right now?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Why, do you think I'm drunk or something?"
He laughed. "You're hammered, Carly. It's adorable."
"Am not." I pouted for a second and then thought better of it. "Well, maybe I am. I didn't mean to get so bad. But I'm not used to drinking wine."
"Plus you barely touched your dinner."
"Yeah, but still." I poked my soft belly. "Not exactly a twig, here."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Quit it with that shit. You're a gorgeous woman with a sexy body. If I wanted a twig, I wouldn't be sitting here thinking about all the perverted things I wanted to do to you tonight."
I giggled and looked away, blushing, as he paid the check. We were strolling out to his car when part of his comment struck me. "You said 'wanted to do'."
"Yes."
"Not 'want to', 'wanted to'. Past tense."
Sam opened the door for me and helped me inside his car. I frowned while I waited for him to walk around and get in.
"Why did you use the past tense?"
"Because you're drunk."
I laughed. "So what? I was gonna put out anyway."
He let out a huge guffaw. "Fair point. How about this, let's get you home and we can discuss it."
"Fine, fine. Whatever. I don't care. Just having dinner with you made my shitty day, shitty week, shitty life a million times better."
Sam patted my arms and let his hand rest over mine. "You sure you don't want to tell me what's got you so thrown?"
"No, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I really like you a lot and would be sad if you didn't want to see me anymore."
He pulled into the late evening traffic and managed to keep a careful eye on the road while checking on me. "I doubt anything could do that, Carly."
"Yeah, but that's just because you don't know what the secret is."
"Oh, it's a secret, now? What if I guess?"
"You won't."
"Then what's the harm in letting me try?"
"Fine, give it your best shot." I knew he was joking, humoring me. He thought I was just being a silly drunk girl, but the thing that kept prodding the back of my thoughts wasn't silly at all. And having reached the maudlin stage of drunkenness, I was wallowing a bit.
"Okay. Are you a secret foreigner looking for a green card husband? But now that you like me, you feel bad about seducing me for nefarious reasons?"
I giggled. "That's a really good guess. But no."
"Hmm. Are you married? Got a kid?"
"No and no. It's nothing like that."
"Good. Are you actually forty years old and just look amazing for your age?"
"Ew, no."
"It's okay if you are. Older women are sexy."
"Shut up. Guess again." In spite of myself, his silly ideas were cheering me up.
"I've got it. You're a spy and having a relationship with a regular American is part of your cover?"
"No. Do they even have spies anymore?"
"Wait, okay. I've got it. You're on the run from the law, and were planning to leave town tomorrow, but now you can't because you'd miss me too much." He laughed, but I didn't.
"Nope." But the guess was a little too close to right.
Sam, sensing the change in my mood, altered his light tone. "All right, no more game. We'll be at your place soon and I want you to tell me the truth."
And in that moment, I wanted to. I was tired of carrying the secret, and I wanted someone to help me figure out what to do. Sam was supposed to be a diversion from all of this, but maybe he could be a confidant too.
He found a parking space in front of my building and I decided to ta
ke that as a good omen. We went upstairs, and in contrast to the last time we'd entered my apartment, Sam told me to sit down and went into the kitchen to pour me a glass of water. Way less sexy, but just as appreciated.
"Okay," he said, once settled on the couch next to me. "Tell me."
"You know when I ran into you yesterday?"
"Of course."
"Well, I was on the way to the police station."
"You were?" He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. "Why? Did someone do something to you?"
"No. It was…something I did. By accident. Sort of."
There was an unfamiliar tension in his eyes. "Carly, just tell me what happened."
"I found out that my boss is involved in something illegal. And I kind of got myself involved in it too, but I didn't mean to."
"What are you talking about?"
"I found a big bag of pills in a package I delivered."
"You delivered? I thought you said you just answered the phones."
"I do," I said defensively for no good reason. "Normally. It doesn't matter why, I just made one delivery and it had drugs."
"And you're sure they were illegal?"
"Well, they weren't vitamins. And doctors don't send pills in unmarked boxes, right?"
"No," he said, looking away from me. "No, they don't."
"So…that's it. I wanted to report it but was afraid I'd get in trouble or something."
"Why would you think you'd get in trouble?"
"Because." My voice broke. "I saw them when I opened the package. But I still delivered them."
Sam dropped my arm and stood. He backed away a few steps and rubbed his hands over his face. "Oh shit."
"I know. That's why I'm so freaked out. I don't know what to do and I know I shouldn't have told you and dragged you into this but I didn't know what else to do and I'm so confused." My breath was coming in shallow pants and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
"This is really fucked," Sam said.
I sniffled and glanced up at him. I'd been expecting surprise and comfort. Instead, he looked sick. "Sam, I'm not a drug dealer or anything. Stop looking at me like that."
"Stop. Don't say anything else."
"What?" I stood too, reaching out a hand to him. "I know this is nuts but-"
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