“Do you miss it? That feeling?”
“Every damned day. It wouldn’t be an addiction if I didn’t miss it. I understand that now. I’ve accepted it. That feels better than the numbness that came with the pills.”
“I love how open you are about this.”
He shrugged. “I don’t walk around telling people, but I owe it to you. For months, I’ve unintentionally sent you mixed signals and I wanted you to understand why. I can’t help myself. There are times when all I want is to look at you. I could spend the whole damned day staring at you and that scares me.”
“I’m not a painkiller.”
“In a lot of ways you are. I get that same calm feeling from you. I’m afraid it’s an artificial high. You could be the drug I shouldn’t have.”
Who the hell tells a woman she gives him an artificial high? She smiled. “If that’s a come-on, you need to work on your approach.”
“I know. That’s the problem. I’m trying not to hit on you. Have been for months and it’s completely foreign. Not that I’m a player, but it’s an unnatural state. No companionship, no sharing—”
“No sex.”
He tilted his head. “There is that. And the more I look at you, the more I want to spend time with you. And then I wonder why you would want to be with me.”
If he only knew.
He stepped closer, looked right into her eyes. “I blew up a good life in a spectacular way. Who’d want a guy like that?”
Me. The thought came without warning. All this talking to herself, trying to convince herself she couldn’t be with Jack because of his issues was like standing at the top of a greased slope craving the leap, but being too afraid of the ride.
Inching closer, she slipped her finger between the two middle buttons on his shirt and tugged. “You’re looking at this all wrong. You may have blown up your life, but you put it back together. In my experience, it’s a lot harder to reassemble the pieces.” She inched even closer, letting one finger skim the surface of his undershirt. “Don’t you think?”
He looked down at her fingers tucked into his shirt and blew out a breath. “I think I hope you’re helmet shopping.”
Then he kissed her—another one of those whammo deals where his mouth crushed hers—and he clung to her, pulling her closer and closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. Nothing about this kiss was gentle. Not one thing. She didn’t care. What was happening here personified untamed, and the ever-guarded part of her loved the sensation, the uncontrolled fury of it. His tongue slid along her bottom lip—cripes, he was a master at that—and she sighed.
Save me. Who was she pleading to? She’d never been one to shy away from something she wanted. She’d also never been one to rush headlong into something she knew, knew, would suck the emotional fortitude from her life. She’d always been the safe one. Cautious to a fault when it came to relationships. But now? Heaven help her, Jack made her want to take a flying leap onto that greased slope.
She backed away from the kiss, but he moved along her jaw, down the side of her neck, softer this time, slower, and her body gave in to the heat.
He’d be good in bed.
She felt it to her core. The one burning like a forest after a six month drought. She stared at the ceiling, closed her eyes and, for a change, enjoyed a little reckless pleasure. “Do me a favor.”
No answer. More kisses, though. Nothing to complain about. Not with his hands under her shirt and his fingers skimming the underside of her bra.
“What?”
“Screw me blind.”
“Can’t.”
“How many days?”
“Six. Then you’d better get that helmet on.”
* * *
After buying Jillian a proper dinner at Mastro’s, Lynx’s new favorite steak place, they walked the three blocks back to his office. The damp wind bit into them as a sea of red taillights lit up the wet, darkened street. He loved this city, but the weather sucked in March. One second it was raining, the next snowing. Or vice versa. He zipped his jacket higher and glanced at Jillian in her buttoned-up coat. She’d pulled her knit hat around her ears and tied a scarf around her neck. Someone had prepared for the cold. And it wasn’t him. “Are you warm enough?”
“Toasty. You need to learn how to dress for a Chicago spring. I never put my coat away until June. That’s how crazy it gets here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His cell phone rang and he checked the ID. “It’s Janet.” He grabbed Jillian’s elbow and ushered her into the entry alcove of an office building. “Hey, Janet.”
“Is Jillian with you? I’m into a file here and I think I’ve got something.”
“Hang on.”
He held the phone between them so they could both listen. The faded scent of Jillian’s perfume—lilacs, that’s what it is—reminded him too much of how extremely satisfying being close to her could be. He dipped his head closer. One way to get rid of the cold icing over his balls.
Jillian—just to be a pain in the ass and torture him—linked her arm through his, snuggled up and blew him a kiss.
Killer.
“Hi, Janet,” she said, her gaze still on his. “What’s up?”
“I found a folder under a private directory and it shows a list of shipments from the last year. I’ve only spot-checked them, but a few of these shipments aren’t on the main distribution list.”
She straightened and focused on the phone in his hand. “Excuse me?”
“Three shipments from the past month don’t exist in the company’s main database. They’re only in this file.”
“What’s the drug?”
“Two of them are Baxtin.”
That’s no coincidence. Jillian glanced back at him with raised eyebrows.
“Is one from last Friday night?” Lynx asked.
“Yes.”
“When is the other delivery for?”
“It came in at 11:55 last night. Another late one.”
Jillian inched closer to the phone. “Can you copy that file for me? I can cross check it by item with what’s in the main distribution database.”
“Sure thing. I’ll get it to Lynx in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Jillian said. “Who does the file belong to?”
“D. Smith. Do you know him? Or her, I guess.”
“No.”
“Thanks, Janet,” Lynx said. “See you in the morning.”
He clicked off then waggled the phone at her. “Interesting. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I want to compare the lists and see if there are any commonalities. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t be on the main list. It’s very odd. Particularly if the shipments are large.”
“Could this D. Smith be skimming from the company? Maybe keeping the money from the drug sales?”
“If he—or she—is embezzling, there are other people involved. Every shipment is logged. When it comes in, it’s logged. When it’s shelved, it’s logged. When it goes out, it’s logged. Then there are multiple checks and balances when it comes to invoices. It would be extremely difficult to hide a shipment.”
“Sure,” he said. “But there’s a reason those shipments haven’t been entered in the main database.”
“I’ll make a list of all the drugs in the questionable shipments. See if anything is common among them. As soon as you get that list, you need to give me the location of where last night’s shipment is stored. I want to get a look at the totes they were shipped in.”
How he hated his next idea, and if he could do it himself, he would, but she’d have to do it. It didn’t sit right with him, not for a half second, but they needed to explore all options. “Would you be able to snap some pictures of the labels? It’d be good to have a t
rail.”
She made a gagging sound and scrunched her nose.
“I know,” he said. “I hate it too.”
A cabbie sat on his horn and they both jumped at the sudden blast.
“Idiot,” Jillian said, then turned back to Lynx. “During the day it’ll be too risky. If I wait until everyone leaves, I should be able to do it.”
“You can’t stay there alone.”
“Well, it’s the only way to do this without getting caught.”
“I don’t like it.”
She leaned in and bumped him. “I know you don’t, but you can’t strap on your cape this time. I need to do this alone.”
He jammed his icicle fingers into his jacket pockets. “And, if you get caught snapping pictures, what are you gonna do?”
She set her gloved hand on his cheek and patted. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t get caught.”
Chapter Nine
Jillian settled into her new chair in her new office and stared at her new door and the empty hallway just beyond.
Total isolation. Being alone had never been an issue before. From an early age she’d savored moments of solitude. Moments when her father wasn’t passed out and her mother wasn’t ignoring the disaster that had been their home life. As an adult, Jillian thrived on singularity and preferred the quiet that came with it.
Except for now.
This current isolation offered no comfort. It created nervous energy that kept her on edge, watching and waiting and wondering.
She battled how that energy made her temples throb with anticipation. How it brought her back to her tiny childhood bedroom, huddled in her closet reading a book and dreaming of escape.
How it made her weak and small.
That’s it. She smacked her hands on the desk, marched toward the door and slammed it shut. “No, sir. Not gonna stare at that empty hallway.”
On her way back to her desk, her cell phone rang. Considering her phone issues at the office, her cell phone had become Jillian central. It also offered a much needed distraction. She grabbed the phone and spotted Jack’s name.
“Hi,” she said. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
No sense going into it when her office could be bugged. “Just thank you.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome. I’ve got your list.”
She glanced at her desk clock. 10:30. “Good. Can you meet me for lunch?”
“It would have to be around 11:30. I have a one o’clock meeting.”
The empty surface of her desktop gleamed. Not terribly busy here. What with the phone not ringing, no access to company files and having an entire floor to herself. Her stomach pinched. So flipping irritating. “I can make that work.”
After killing the hour, Jillian entered the Seville Restaurant, from here on out known as their new place, at exactly 11:30 and found Jack sitting in a booth in the far corner. He waved to her and she marched toward him as he slid from the booth and held one arm out for a hug.
Instantly, the ball of tension in her stomach evaporated. Somehow, he always knew how to help her. She snuggled under his arm and propped her chin on his shoulder. A simple hug could do wonders for a girl. “I needed this.”
“I figured. Have a seat.”
She opened her eyes and found the patrons in the next table watching them. An audience. Slowly, she backed away and scooted into the booth.
For the first time, she scanned the remainder of the restaurant where the early lunch crowd filtered in and the noise level slowly rose. It wasn’t enough to drown out their conversation, but in another half hour there would be no discussing anything confidential. Not unless they planned on customers at the three tables surrounding them hearing.
Jack passed a stapled report to her. “Here you go.”
A waitress came by and dropped off two pops. “I ordered you a soda,” he said. “Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s perfect. Thank you.” She flipped through the pages on the report. “This is quite a list.”
Jack leaned forward. “It’s all the deliveries over the past year. I put it on a thumb drive for you so you can sort it. Didn’t want to email it.”
“Definitely not. For all I know, they’ve got spyware on my laptop.” She shook her head, squeezed her eyes closed for a second then opened them again. Her gaze connected with Jack’s and held. “Just smile for me. Throw me a bone. Please? That smile always makes things better.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. Half a bone. Maybe a quarter. “That’s all you’ve got for me? Really?”
His lips quirked another inch. Tough customer. She’d deal with it. “I need to check these deliveries against the company database. Which I now have Mary’s password for.”
“I’ll split the list with you. We’ll log in from somewhere with free Wi-Fi and go through it together. How about after work?”
She nodded.
“We’ll use my laptop,” he said. “We won’t even load it onto yours. Just in case.”
“Good idea. I think we should sort it by drug. Then we can see if there’s a particular brand that shows up more than the others.”
She eyeballed the report, but no particular drug stood out. Line by line she checked the entries until she came to the shipment from two nights ago. The storage location had already been entered into the spreadsheet.
“Before I leave work tonight, I’ll sneak into the warehouse and find this latest shipment of Baxtin. I have my camera in my trunk. I’ll snap some photos. The tote will be sealed so I won’t be able to get into it, but I can get pictures of the labels.”
“Can I help you?”
“A strange guy walking around the warehouse is more of a red flag than me doing it.” She gripped his hand. “I’ll be fine. We need this. I’ll just wait around until everyone leaves.”
He slumped back. “I don’t love this idea.”
“I know. I don’t either. I’ve spent my life being cautious and suddenly I’ve abandoned that concept.”
“For good reason.”
“Still. It’s different. Kinda like you not being able to don your cape.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m not being snarky. I’m just explaining how this feels. You’re used to rushing in and helping. You can’t do that now and I know it’s bothering you. I have that same feeling, only mine comes from having to do something risky.”
“Why is that?”
“What?”
“That you’re so cautious?”
She waited. Pondered. Calculated. He’d given her the opening to share her childhood and why she obsessed over stability. He, of all people, would understand the groundwork that led to her being a self-sufficient woman with an aversion to chance.
But he’s from Mayberry.
She glanced at a passing waitress, hoping the woman would check on them, but no luck. Waitresses were like cops, always around when you didn’t need them. She looked back at Jack. “I like stability.”
“We all like stability to a certain extent.”
She shrugged. “I suppose.”
His phone beeped. A text coming in. He scooped it from his jacket pocket. “Crap.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. Mike just moved our meeting up. I gotta go.”
Temporary reprieve. “It’s fine.” Exceedingly fine. “I have what I needed.” And I skated from telling you about my screwed-up family. She held up the report. “Why don’t you keep this until tonight? I don’t want anyone at my office seeing it.”
“Will do. Call me later and let me know what time you want to meet.”
With that, he stood, adjusted the cuffs on his shirt and bent over to peck her on the lips.
Hello.
He shot straig
ht, all stiff officer-in-charge, and his gaze slid left and right. She held up her hand. “Don’t freak. A simple peck is not going to blow a year of hard work.”
“Jeez, I can’t believe I did that.”
“A hug and a kiss. I liked it, Jack.”
Maybe a little too much.
“Hell, so did I. I don’t want you thinking—”
“Stop. I’m not thinking anything. Don’t analyze. We both enjoyed it. Go back to work.”
Finally, he smiled—the trailblazing one—and she sighed dramatically. “Just for that, kiss me again before you leave.”
* * *
Another afternoon of mind-numbing boredom ticked by and at 6:30, with Jillian an inch shy of blowing her brains out, she was sure everyone had gone home. She’d been sitting behind her locked office door for over an hour. If anyone checked the door, they’d assume she had gone home. She’d even parked her car in the adjacent lot when she’d come back from lunch so it wouldn’t be noticed in the Stennar Pharm lot when the staff left.
To make sure all was clear, she’d do a quick bit of reconnaissance before going downstairs. Slowly, keeping her steps light against the cheap, cracked linoleum up here in the dead zone, she walked to the office at the back of the building and peeped out at the parking lot. Almost empty. Only one car remained.
Darn.
She gnawed her bottom lip. Perhaps the person was still in the building. Or maybe they’d gone out to dinner with one of the other employees and went in one car? No way to know.
Why sit contemplating when she could take the five minutes she needed to snap photos and be done?
She’d have to risk it. Back in her office, she grabbed her camera case and purse from the bottom drawer. Using her normal gentle care, she unzipped the camera bag, pulled the lens cover off and checked the settings. Her intention was to get down to the warehouse, snap the pictures fast and get the hell out.
If someone stopped her while she poked around the aisles, she could say she was checking a shipment on her way out.
Easy-peasy.
Except sweat pooled on the back of her neck and her pulse hammered.
“I can do this.”
Opposing Forces Page 11