The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

“What?” he asked with a sheepish grin. “Can’t a guy just say hello to his—” He stopped short, pressing his lips together.

  We’d agreed to not use labels in our relationship. A smirk escaped my lips. “I liked the way you said hello. You can do it again…and again.”

  He leaned forward, kissed my other cheek. “You said I could do it again.” Now his smile was a mile wide.

  My eyes shifted to the crowd and then back to Saul. “I think the PDA police might give us a ticket if we don’t watch out.”

  “PD what?”

  I giggled. “Public Display of Affection. Please tell me you know what that means.”

  “I know what that means,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head. I knew he’d just been messing with me.

  “But if I have to go all night and not touch you, that’s the equivalent of torture. I mean, you look gorgeous.”

  My body temperature spiked, and perspiration gathered under my ponytail. I was wearing a little black dress that I’d picked up off a Kohl’s sales rack. I’d been lucky—it accentuated what few curves I had. I’d also gone to the trouble of putting on a pair of dangling earrings and even a smidge of makeup. But it seemed like I was producing pheromones at a rate I was unaccustomed to. Saul’s lavish praise was endearing, but it still made me feel slightly uncomfortable, at least in a public setting. In the privacy of his apartment, I was a different woman.

  “You’re getting better at this,” he said, facing the crowd, acting a bit more nonchalant.

  “At what?”

  “Allowing me to share what I’m feeling about you.”

  I squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze. “Don’t stop. I’ll get there eventually.”

  “Ooh, that sounds like you’re thinking long term now. Better watch yourself.”

  I gave him a half-roll of my eyes.

  He smiled again, then looked back across the bar. “Who’s the old guy schmoozing Zahera?”

  “It looks more like she’s schmoozing him, although I can’t imagine why. I’ve never seen the guy. Knowing her, it’s someone rich and connected. Not sure why she’s always so…”

  “Social?” Saul finished my thought.

  Grinning, I nodded. “I guess I know the answer to the question. Because that’s just Z. I love her though.”

  “Even if you are polar opposites.”

  Saul was waiting for a response, but I’d been drawn to the scene around Zahera. A man with slicked-back hair and shiny cufflinks approached the same table where Zahera and Cane Man chatted. He shook her hand as if they’d just been introduced by Cane Man, then turned and cast his gaze across the bar area while Zahera and Cane Man continued speaking.

  “Do you know the new guy?” Saul asked.

  “Never seen him before in my life.”

  Saul leaned closer to my ear. “Let me get us some drinks. Your typical lemon drop martini?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He winked, and I watched him walk over to a bar. I was left with goose bumps. I swung my sights back over to Zahera and company, and that was when I saw the gaze that stopped my breath.

  The man adjusted his cufflinks while staring right at me. Or was it through me? He didn’t look away. After a few seconds, I nervously played with an earring and turned to Saul at the bar. He was yucking it up with the bartender, probably trading stories about the Spurs or drumming up future business for his own law practice, once he passed the bar exam. I shifted my sights back to the table—the man’s eyes were still fixated on me. He wasn’t blinking.

  An unease came over me as my neck and shoulders grew stiff. I glanced away for a second, wondering if he might just be zoning out, maybe in deep thought about life or business. I flipped back to him, and he was still on me. His eyes were harsh, deep and dark like a starless sky. Lifeless. It felt suffocating.

  I tried to swallow as my memories from my past fought their way to my conscious mind.

  This guy is trying to intimidate you, Ivy. Why are you letting him get to you?

  One decision point stuck in my mind: fight or flight?

  A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body. My jaw clenched tighter, my hands curled into fists.

  “Here you go.”

  Saul moved in front of me, holding a full martini glass and blocking my view.

  I took a breath.

  “Are you okay, Ivy? Something has you upset.”

  I took the drink and let my emotions calm for a second. “I’m okay.”

  Don’t close up now, girl. Saul is there to help.

  I looked into Saul’s gentle eyes. “I don’t need to be rescued. That’s just not me. But that guy over there is kind of creeping me out.”

  Saul flipped around so fast his drink sloshed over the lip of his tumbler. Now with my view restored, I could see Zahera turn and nearly run into Mister Cufflinks, who finally diverted his glare off me and onto Zahera and the man with the cane. She said a few words, then walked in our direction. Saul took a few steps toward her, and I followed, not wanting him to make a scene.

  “Who is that guy?” Saul asked Zahera pointedly.

  “What’s wrong, Saul?” she said, apparently unaware of what had taken place. “Oh, that’s Timothy. An eccentric guy, but I met him a few months ago, and he’s really quite interesting. Has a thousand stories.”

  I stepped between them, wondering if she knew which man Saul was talking about. “Let’s find a table over by the railing. When is Zeke showing up?”

  Zahera responded, though I couldn’t hear her because she was already walking to our table. I leaned over and hooked my arm inside Saul’s. “Nothing to fret over. I’m a big girl,” I whispered, pulling his arm against my chest as he stared at Mister Cufflinks, who had his back to us, speaking with the other man. “Let’s have some fun tonight. I’m sure the guy’s probably a creepoid to every girl.”

  Saul backed off and walked to the table where Zahera now sat, her thumbs moving a mile a minute on her phone.

  “Want me to get you another drink?” I asked him.

  He looked over my shoulder toward the two men.

  I tried another tactic, shifting Saul’s attention back to our table. “Where’s your James Bond, Z?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” she said while typing.

  “Can you chew gum at the same time?”

  “What?” she asked, her head still buried in her phone. “Wait, you’re screwing with me.”

  “Who, me?” I feigned ignorance.

  Saul sipped his drink, finally pulling his sights away from the men.

  “Is that your favorite, Maker’s Mark and Coke?” I asked Saul.

  “You don’t have to try to distract me, Ivy. They just left.”

  I flipped around to see the man with the cane disappear through a curtain that led to the elevators. “Did they leave together?”

  “Timothy, the stalker with the obnoxious cufflinks, walked out first. He was looking at his watch, as if he had somewhere to be.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Zahera anchored an elbow on the table while still peeking at her phone.

  “It’s really nothing.”

  “Saul just called Timothy a stalker.”

  “You have to admit that Timothy makes your skin crawl.”

  Zahera pursed her full lips and nodded. “Ah, okay. I misunderstood what you were asking me earlier, Saul. Timothy is the older guy, the one who looks like the scientist who started Jurassic Park—if you swap out his dark hair for gray hair.”

  Now it made sense. “Timothy is the one with the cane?”

  Saul jumped in before Zahera could respond to my question. “It’s the other guy I was asking about. He was staring at Ivy.”

  “Oh, that’s Delmar. I couldn’t agree more. Very high on the creep factor,” she said. “I’d met him once before at a new restaurant opening about a month ago. Believe it or not, Delmar is an executive at an insurance company. Not sure how he moved up the corporate ladder with that kind of vibe. He’s a transplant fro
m somewhere out west, Oregon or California or something like that.”

  “He does have that Unabomber feel,” Saul said, draping his arm around my shoulders.

  “More like the Unabomber meets John Travolta from ‘Pulp Fiction.’”

  Zahera winked, saying, “Good one, Ivy. But seriously, I wouldn’t take it personally. That’s just the way he is, it seems.”

  “Who’s what way?” Zeke, wearing a skin-tight, sleeveless vest, had pulled up behind Zahera.

  “I guess you’ll never know since you were so late,” she said, twisting around in her seat. As had become customary in their brief relationship, Zeke leaned down and kissed the top of her hand. Apparently, she was looking for more. She grabbed hold of his face and gave him a big smooch.

  “Miss me?” he asked, slipping into the chair next to her.

  “Let’s just say you’re timeliness needs a little work.”

  He held up both hands. “Call me guilty. I was vetting another client. Thoroughly.”

  “A net worth over five million or ten million?” I asked.

  Zeke had run security for one of San Antonio’s most notable—or was it notorious?—entrepreneurs. As it turned out, Dillon Burchfield’s ego was bigger than his aspiration for building galactic colonies. He had fooled the world, including Zeke, into thinking he’d been wrongly accused of a sex crime. When the dust finally cleared, including him drugging me and trying to smuggle me out of the country, we learned he not only was a pedophile, but also had been involved in bribery, attempted murder, and a host of other crimes. We all understood Zeke’s desire to more thoroughly vet his clients nowadays.

  “From what I can tell, he’s worth about fourteen million, but most of that isn’t liquid. It’s wrapped up in a corporate stock,” Zeke said. “But most importantly, I think he’s on the up and up. Just someone who feels like his profile is a little too public, and he wants to ensure he and his family are safe.”

  A waiter stopped by our table, and Zeke ordered a Heineken, Zahera a lemon drop martini. I convinced Saul to order another drink for himself. The atmosphere became lighter. Music thumped in the background, and a few couples made it to the dance floor. We got down to catching up on each other’s lives.

  As usual, Zahera regaled us with some of her most interesting OB/GYN stories about pregnant mommies and their kin. “And that’s when the girl’s mother walked in and asked me to confirm that her daughter was no longer a virgin.”

  “Do what?” I asked. “How old was the girl?”

  “Twenty-three. Apparently, she had promised her mom that she would tell her when that big day arrived. The mom didn’t believe it, not until her daughter gave me permission to show her the pregnancy test.” She nearly snorted up her lemon drop martini. “You should have seen the look on her face. To say she was a prude…a huge understatement.”

  “Sounds more like a controlling bitch, if you ask me,” I said, tipping my head back for the last few drops of my martini.

  Saul talked about one of his boring cases at the law offices of Wilson, Mendoza, and Ross. I think we all literally yawned, until he said, “I’m taking the bar exam in two weeks.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said. “How did I not know that?”

  “No need to worry. It’s just my entire future on the line.” His eyes bugged out briefly.

  “I’m sure you’ve been studying your ass off,” Zahera said.

  I put my hand on Saul’s. “Nothing changes if you don’t pass.”

  “What are you talking about?” He took his hand back, raked his hair. “I can’t screw this up. My parents worked two jobs each to put me through school. Plus, you know I want to get away from the big firm and open my own practice.”

  His intensity was palpable, but I got it. “I have confidence in you, Saul,” I said with a calmness in my voice. He released a breath, pressed his lips together. “I know you do. That helps.”

  I leaned over, whispered in his ear. His cheeks turned pink.

  “Okay you two, I think we need to have our toast before things get out of hand,” Zahera said.

  “What toast?” I asked.

  “Why do you think we’re here?” She splayed her arms. “You had the biggest day of anyone, my dear. You found that kidnapped kid.”

  A smile escaped my lips as Zeke put two fingers in his mouth and released a shrieking whistle while the others clapped.

  I gave them the details, including the part about the dead skunk. “You should have seen that kid bolt through the door.”

  Naturally, as a security expert, Zeke seemed particularly interested. “I just don’t know how you arrived at your conclusion.”

  “A hunch. Maybe you could call it an educated guess,” I said with a shrug.

  “Amazing. You know, happy endings are rare in cases like that. Though you do seem to have an exemplary track record.”

  I smiled. “I thought William the grandfather would just keel over and die if we didn’t find him alive. He’s had some rough times, including the break-up of his family—four boys are all at different foster homes—but the joy in his face was something I’ll never forget.”

  Zahera raised her glass. “To happy endings!” She said it loudly, laughing, and others in the area turned to stare at her. We all cracked up. A few minutes later, Saul and I made our own escape back to his apartment to work on another happy ending.

  11

  The ride back to Saul’s apartment was bumpy—only because Saul kept running his Mazda RX-7 into the curb. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

  One make-out session during an extended red light ended with a smattering of horns from behind us. We giggled, settled back into our seats, and then unclogged a major traffic artery in downtown. When we parked the car for good, I wondered if we’d ever make it up to his apartment. And then there was the elevator ride. Each time we made it up to the seventh floor, we were too wrapped up in each other to notice. The doors would close, sending us back down to the lobby. We went through that routine three times, I think. Hell, it could have been more.

  By the time we made it to his door, his linen shirt was untucked and unbuttoned and my dress faced the wrong direction. We both broke out in laughter.

  “If you don’t move a little faster, I’m going to pee myself,” I said, squeezing my legs together.

  He brought his hand upward, holding his keys. “Oops.” He put a hand to his mouth as the keys dropped to the floor. He leaned down to grab them, but kicked them ten feet down the hallway.

  “Come on, Saul,” I said over his laughter. “I’ll lose all of my sex appeal if I have to crouch down and pee.”

  He tried to respond, but was laughing too hard to get words out. It took some serious focus before he was able to get the key in the lock. I smacked him on the ass as I sprinted toward the bathroom.

  Finally able to relax, I cracked the bathroom door and said, “I’m going to put on one of your old T-shirts and get comfortable.”

  He replied from the kitchen, saying something about serving me the best dessert I’d ever tasted. I wasn’t sure if that was a euphemism for delivering in the sack, but either way, I figured it was a win-win. I washed makeup from my face and took off my dress. I stopped abruptly when I noticed the forest—on my legs. “Nice, Ivy. Real nice.”

  It had been at least a week since I’d shaved. Amazingly, Saul hadn’t said a word during our car escapade when my legs were all over him. Maybe his mind had been so one-tracked, he didn’t care. After brushing my teeth, I slipped a blue and silver T-shirt over my head, scratched my blond head of hair with both hands, and then walked into the living room.

  I saw him in the kitchen, holding a lighter above two cupcakes. The flames made his eyes sparkle like syrup-colored stars.

  “So you were serious about the dessert?”

  “Yep.” He lit the candles, then pulled out the barstool for me. I climbed on and immediately crossed my legs, yanking the shirt down as far as it would go. He ran his hand along my shin.


  I showed him my teeth. “Would you believe I forgot to shave?”

  “I forgot to put deodorant on,” he said, reaching over to grab napkins for each of us.

  “Really?”

  “Nah. I was just trying to make you feel better.”

  We laughed like little kids. “I noticed the unshaven legs at the first light,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter to me. You’re a grown woman.”

  “And you’re a grown man.” I put both my arms around him and brought him closer.

  “We have to eat while it’s still warm.”

  “What did you do, take a lesson from the chef who cooked for us a couple of months back?”

  “As a matter of fact…” he said with a dimpled grin.

  The chocolate cupcake was unlike anything I’d ever eaten—and I’d consumed my fair share of chocolate in my life. Afterward, we sat on the couch, my hairy legs crossed over his. I found myself reading Texas Monthly magazine and he’d opened his tablet. It was comfortable…and comforting.

  “What are you reading?” I asked.

  He smirked. “I’m studying for the bar exam.”

  I ran my fingers through his hair, kissed him on the cheek, and then let him get back to studying. I wasn’t about to put my desires over his lifelong dream. I was okay with just sitting there, reading and letting life roll along at a relaxed pace.

  It had been a hell of a day. It almost felt strange to sit there, reading my magazine without any anxiety. Finding Billy had been a miracle. While I was grateful for whomever was looking over that little boy, I knew his rescue had been a shot in the dark. A wild-ass theory that still seemed far-fetched, even though I personally experienced it.

  It didn’t take but a moment for a little section of my mind to start questioning my happiness. Too much of one thing—in this case elation over finding Billy and contentment in my budding relationship with Saul—normally didn’t last very long. There was a balance to the universe. Tip the scale too much in one direction, and something would invariably turn nature’s forces in the opposite direction. It was just how things went.

  I began to pick at my nails as anxiety crawled up my spine. But why? Why was I waiting on doom to strike my life? Was I so scarred that I couldn’t bear to feel happiness for more than a few beats at a time?