Security Risk

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “What about the girl you broke up with and then left in Whitecap?”

  “That’s your second question?”

  I nod.

  “It’s not a regulation play, but I’ll allow it.” He brushes back a piece of my hair from my face and tilts my head upward. “Dear sweet Susan, the girl who goes to church twice a week, and I went on three dates. On date three, in the middle of dinner, she asked me if I wanted to join her in a threesome with her boyfriend.”

  “No. You’re kidding. You turned down a threesome?”

  “That’s what you took from what I said? The threesome, not the boyfriend part?”

  “Well…” my words trail off.

  “I don’t kid about threesomes, Tabitha. No man does. And I also don’t share. Especially in a devil’s triangle.” He kisses the side of my head. “Okay, I answered three of yours. My turn. What are your real plans for Pelican Bay?” he asks his hands faltering on my back for a second.

  “I told you the truth. I’m not going back to Oklahoma. There’s nothing there for me, but here is a whole town of possibilities. I’ll need to find a job, of course.”

  “Where?”

  “No clue. Are you hiring?” I ask.

  He tenses, his hands stopping. “For you. Hell no. You’re enough trouble now.”

  “What is it you even do?”

  “Eh, this and that.” He starts rubbing again, but I’m not buying it.

  “What happened to the whole, truthfulness from here on out bit?”

  “Fine.” He blows out a breath, moving the hair on the top of my head. “I did eight years in the military and then when Mom died during my second tour I came home rather than reenlist. Dad wanted me to run the hardware store, but one man for the town to ogle is enough.”

  I laugh at the truthfulness of his statement. Two Jeffersons in the store would send the town into a spiral. No one would ever leave the place.

  “A few of the guys from my unit left at the same time. After a few months of not being able to find jobs for our particular skills, I set up Pelican Bay Security.”

  He’s glossing over details again. “What are your particular skill sets?”

  “Counterterror measures, explosives, aquatics, and combat division… the usual.”

  “The usual?” I question.

  “SEALs go through diverse training.”

  “Uh-huh. How do you use those particular skills installing alarms?” I ask.

  “Security alarms make up a decent base of my monthly income, but I make much more with my other activities.”

  “And those are?”

  “You’re a tough crowd.”

  He’s right. I refuse to be the silly stupid girlfriend who doesn’t know how the guy in her life makes his money ever again.

  “We provide twenty-four-hour surveillance on houses, in person body guards, and bounty hunting. Even help out the county police if they need a job done fast and behind the scenes. It varies depending on what a client needs.”

  I jerk my head up and squint my eyes at him.

  Ridge isn’t fazed. “That’s what I can tell you. Most of what we do is covered by client confidentiality. People pay a premium to make sure we keep our mouths shut about what goes on around here.”

  “Nothing illegal though, right?”

  “Not like you’re thinking.”

  “Is it dangerous?” I ask pushing my head back into his pecs.

  He slides his fingers through my hair. “Not if you don’t let it be. I only hire the best. Guys with experience who I’ve seen work. My guys are good.”

  He’s right. I had no idea Bennett had been tailing me for days. “Okay,” I concede. “Your favorite movie?”

  “No brainer. Top Gun.”

  “With Tom Cruise?” I ask.

  “You have to ask? Yes, the one with Tom Cruise. Guy goes to flight school, kicks ass, wins the girl. What’s not to love?” Ridge sounds offended at my lack of knowledge. “What’s yours?”

  “Legally Blonde, duh.”

  “Really?”

  “Girl goes to law school, kicks ass, wins the guy. It’s a classic.”

  He laughs.

  “I’m serious.” I playfully slap him on the arm. “Favorite memory.”

  “It’s a sad one, you won’t like it.”

  “Why is it your favorite?” I ask.

  “Because it involves my mother.”

  “Then yes I want to hear.” I’d never turn down the opportunity to learn more about his mother.

  “It happened while I was home on leave, the last one before she died. Looking back, I think she knew even then something wasn’t right with her health even if her death came as a surprise to the rest of us. She never liked to cause people worry.

  “Mom and I were sitting on the front porch watching Riley toss a football with a few friends. I made a sarcastic comment about remembering when we’d jump our bikes off the curb and how mad she used to get.” He laughs pausing for a moment.

  “Like a good mom, she gave me the ‘you boys were rowdy, but I loved every minute’ speech. Her last words before going in to get everyone lemonade were about how time is short. We each have limited days with those we love so I should make sure not to waste a single one.”

  “That’s some pretty solid advice. Your mom sounded wise.” I squeeze his arm in sympathy.

  “Six months later my commanding officer pulled me out of my tent in some shithole jungle in Guatemala and told me my mother died of cancer the day before.”

  Ridge releases a deep breath, but I’m the one holding back tears. “I’m sorry.”

  He raises a single shoulder like it’s not a big deal, but we both know that’s not the truth. “After the funeral I went back, finished up my service time, and got out the first chance I could. Every day since then I’ve done my best not to waste a single moment of the life I’ve been given.”

  What do you say to someone with a story like this? Losing a mother is bad enough, but while you’re worlds away, it’d break the devil’s heart. “Your mom sounds like she was wonderful. I’m sorry.” I rub a small spot on his arm. “Tell me about your brothers.”

  “I think it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  “Yeah, but I like hearing you talk,” I say to his bare chest.

  “I’ll talk and you work on falling asleep.”

  “Deal.” I close my eyes and listen to his words, his chest moving my head.

  “You’ve met the youngest Jefferson, Riley. But we have an older brother, Richie. Mom was really into the R names.”

  “Is that why your aunt called you Ridley?”

  “This is not you falling asleep, and you weren’t supposed to hear that name.”

  “Sorry.” I tuck my head back.

  “Imagine growing up with the name Ridley. There were so many jokes, by high school I’d beefed up and proven my toughness with stupid things young kids do. When I joined the Navy, I saw it as my chance to reinvent myself so I picked the name Ridge. Thank god it stuck even after I returned from duty. Aunt Mary is now the only person who gets away with calling me Ridley. And I only give her a pass because I’m sure if we fought she’d take me.”

  “Oh she definitely would.” I mumble into his chest causing him to laugh.

  “Still not sleeping, Tabitha.”

  “I’m going, right now. Tell me the crazy stories you and your brothers did. I’m sure it will work.”

  Being in Ridge’s arms helps, especially as our joined bodies heat the bed and I relax after the long stressful day, but I still want to learn more about his life. Find out who he was before he reinvented himself into Ridge — Fugitive Recovery Specialist with job duties too secret to share.

  “Mostly it was my brother Riley. He had a way for getting us into trouble and then getting us caught just as fast…”

  Ridge continues to tell me the stories of his youth, but as his voice quiets I slowly fall into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Something tickles my neck
and I swat it away. The bed under me jerks with little movements. Ones I eventually pick up as Ridge laughing behind me.

  I moan and pull the blankets up around my shoulder. “Go away.”

  He leans over my body kissing my ear. It’s annoying and messing with my sleep. If he wasn’t so hot and sweet, I’d be pissed for the interruption.

  “I’m trying to leave, but I wanted to say good-bye,” he whispers in my ear.

  I crack my eyes open to the pitch black room. “You’re leaving for real? Do you always get up this early?” It’s not normal.

  “I do when there’s an asshole stalking the woman I have in my bed. Yes.”

  “Does that happen often for you?”

  He laughs again, the movements pulling on my covers. “No. You’re a first, baby. In so many ways.” Ridge pulls on the edge of the comforter and tucks it around me. “Go back to sleep. Richie will be over to fix your window early this morning and Riley will set up the new alarm.”

  I try to roll over to my back, but he’s packed the covers so tightly I can’t move. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?”

  “No, I’ll grab something to go,” he pauses, “but sheer curiosity what would you have made?” He runs his index finger down my temple until I shiver.

  After a good forty seconds of thinking, I decide to go with the truth. It’s my new thing — truth telling and all that. “Cereal. It’s the one breakfast food I cook and don’t burn.”

  He laughs, shaking the bed again. “That’s hot, baby. How about you cook me dinner? I should be home by then.”

  “Okay.” I snuggle back into the pillow.

  “And, Tabitha. You’re safe here so don’t leave the house unless you have one of my guys with you. Got it?”

  Well there goes that playful mood.

  The bed pops up when Ridge stands. I wait and listen to hear his truck start, but I fall back to sleep before it does.

  **

  A few hours later I’m awake but refusing to get out of bed. It’s comfortable and I plan to lie here in contented bliss for the entire day.

  Then someone knocks on the door.

  I burrow under the covers, planning to ignore it, and calculate how long my bladder will hold out before I’m forced to give up my cocoon. The knocking stops. Ha. I win.

  “Tabitha? Are you here?” A man’s voice calls up the stairs.

  Holy crap.

  Throwing the blankets over my head I lie as still as possible. It’s the best plan I have. Granted it’s not a good one. What twenty-six-year-old hides from the boogey man under the covers? But I’m not a freaking super-agent ninja and I have a full bladder. My options are limited.

  “Tell her who you are, dumbass.” Riley. I relax at the sound of Ridge’s brother’s voice, but I don’t uncover my head. “Tabs, we’re here to put in the window.”

  I finally throw back the covers and stretch, not ready for this day to start yet. “I’ll be right there.”

  “See, she’s fine,” Riley says, a door closing somewhere near him and talking to who I assume is Ridge’s other brother Richie. “We’ll meet you down here,” he yells.

  My jeans from last night lay folded in the corner chair. I rush to put them on, using the master bath for my morning business, and clutch the rest of my clothes to my chest keeping Ridge’s long t-shirt. When I reach the first floor, both Jefferson brothers are in the kitchen pawing through Ridge’s fridge.

  They turn toward me and it’s like I’m looking at two different versions of Ridge. What he looked like a few years ago and without the small scar under his left eye and the slightly older version. What I imagine he’ll look like in another three to five years.

  Richie introduces himself and I lean over to shake his hand trying not to get caught checking him out. It’s not because he’s cute — he is — but because the resemblance between all three of the guys is astonishing.

  “Sorry I missed your first family dinner. We finished up a new bathroom across town. I know what you look like now, so I’ll make sure I’m at the next one.”

  Riley hits him on the arm and closes the refrigerator door. “Don’t let Ridge hear you say that shit, bro. Bennett ate pizza with her once and Ridge made him run background checks for an entire day.”

  “What? I’m just letting the new girl know there are more Jefferson brothers around. Some of us own our own construction companies and work safe jobs.” Richie points to himself. “She has options.”

  “Didn’t you almost put a nail through your foot last year with your brand new nail gun you couldn’t shut up about?” Riley shoots his brother a raised eyebrow.

  “Almost.” Richie hands him a large blue can of coffee, my favorite brand. One I’m sure Ridge didn’t have in his house a few days ago. “That’s the point. Almost.”

  I laugh at the brothers’ exchange. There’s a large age gap between my siblings and me. We’ve never had a close relationship. Definitely not one where we joke with one another. Watching the two of them interact makes my heart hurt a twinge with the lost opportunity.

  Riley pours a scoop of the ground coffee in the top of the coffeemaker and dumps in the water from the pot. “Let me finish this pot of coffee and then we’ll head over to your place. I have the alarm system in the truck.”

  “There’s coffee at my place.” It’s a moot point since he’s already started but now my offer’s out there.

  The youngest brother waves me away. “You need to learn the number one Jefferson rule. Why use our stuff when Ridge’s supply is available?”

  Richie grabs three mugs from a cupboard and laughs. “That’s what he gets for buying the good shit.”

  I have no idea what their idea of the “good shit” is if they think it’s what we’re having. I’ve always preferred my cheap grocery store stuff to the imported bags Mario made us drink.

  “Anything is better than the swamp water we drink at the office.” Riley hands me a mug filled with the black brew. “It’s not the coffee’s fault. The secretary Ridge hired last year couldn’t make a decent cup of coffee to save her life.”

  “Then why do you drink it?” Richie asks as Riley pours his mug to the brim with coffee.

  “Because she’s hot,” Riley answers like it should have been obvious.

  Richie holds the back door open nodding his head in understanding. “Ahh. Got it.”

  Men.

  It takes less than two minutes to make the trek to my house. Riley opens my back door and stops. “Wow, Bennett wasn’t lying. They did a number on the place, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I survey the damage. Nothing broken meant anything, but the pure destruction is so wasteful. What could Benny have been looking for in my kitchen?

  “Don’t worry, Tabs. Ridge and Bennett will find him.” Riley pats me on the shoulder as he walks into the dirty kitchen, pushing broken china out of the way with his boot.

  Ridge didn’t elaborate on how much he’s told his brothers regarding my current situation, especially since he learned most of it last night. I expect the room to descend into an awkward silence, but there’s only concern coming from the brothers.

  “I’ll head upstairs and change. Then I’ll come down and start the cleanup if you’ll be here a while.”

  “No problem,” Richie responds already working to rip off the sheet of plastic someone stuck over the broken window.

  The house remains how it looked when I left last night. The kitchen destroyed, the living room in similar but not such bad shape. I haven’t been in the bedroom and I’m forced to stop in the doorway and catch my breath when I reach the threshold. Sure, it’s not as bad as broken dishes in the kitchen, but it’s not good either.

  Books are pulled off shelves, the bookcase tipped over on top of them. Crumpled sheets litter the floor, ripped from the bed. The mattress is off the box spring a few inches. Nothing broken, but it will involve a long cleanup effort. I don’t check on the master bedroom, preferring to pretend it’s fine. At least for a few more minutes. I’m back to de
nial.

  A hamper full of dirty clothes is dumped and scattered on the floor, the few clean items I had left pulled from their hangers in the closet and thrown about the room. There hasn’t been time to worry about laundry since I left Oklahoma, but now buying a jug of detergent springs to the top of the list. A knee length jean skirt, two vintage t-shirts, and a tea length party dress I bought on a half-off sale but never wore are undisturbed on their hangers.

  With little choice, I pick the jean skirt and a grey vintage shirt with the words Chill Out and a row of penguins underneath on it. I bend down to pick up a few books, but quickly give up, tossing them back on the pile. I’ll need help to get the bookcases standing. Plus, the broken glass all in the kitchen is a more pressing need.

  **

  An hour later Richie holds the dust pan while I sweep the last few remaining pieces of broke dishes toward him.

  “You’ll need to buy a new set,” he says dropping the pan in the large black construction trash bag I propped up in the corner.

  “No shit, Sherlock. Way to make her feel better about the situation,” Riley yells from the front door where he’s on a ladder installing the wireless house alarm system.

  “It’s okay. They’re older than me. I wasn’t attached.” It’s half true. The white plates with cute little blue pansy flowers painted on the edges had seen better days. A few plates had chips and most of them had less pansies than they did when Aunt Gertie bought them — probably sometime in 1950. But there were good memories attached to them.

  The brothers continue to work. Richie fiddles with the new window he’s inserted. Riley brings more and more electrical equipment in from his truck, but I tune them out.

  Eventually I’ll move to the living room and clean there, but for a few moments I lean against the refrigerator, the metal magnets poking into my back, and stare out the window at Ridge’s empty house. I’m hours from my first break-in, my house is a mess, I have a crazy maniac after me, but somehow I smile.

  It’s Ridge.

  This moment, his brothers, him, it feels right. Any normal woman would be a sobbing mess, hell I was last night, but knowing Ridge is out there on the hunt for Benny and Larenzo makes me feel safe. I’ve known these people a few short days, but with the weight of my lies no longer weighing me down, the future looks bright. This is where I belong. And who I belong with.