Armed With Steele

by Kyra Jacobs

  But what if I need you?

  I’ve got Charlie on alert. Be back before your shift is over.

  Somehow that news did little to comfort me. I sighed and turned my gaze back to the screen. With so many names, I began to think it might be easier to print the list and lay it all out on my desk than keep scrolling. So I clicked the print button.

  A gnarling, chunking, thumping noise erupted from my printer. I spun around and pushed my chair away from the sound.

  “What the hell?”

  The printer looked possessed. Hop. Shudder. Crunch. The smell of a burned-up motor soon greeted my nose. I cursed and dove under the desk to unplug it from the wall. Cursed again as I banged my head on said desk as I stood back up.

  “Jessica?” Michael called from his office. “Do you smell something…burning?”

  “It’s okay, Michael,” I hollered back. “Just my printer acting up.”

  “Your office must be jinxed,” he called back with a laugh. “That’s the second one to die in there this month.”

  Second one? I looked down at the silent printer and lifted its lid. Jammed into its inkwell arm was the cap of a ballpoint pen. Jinxed my ass—this was sabotage.

  First the stolen notes, then a threatening letter, now my printer? Fear gave way to anger. The whole situation was really starting to piss me off.

  But I still had no idea what’d triggered today’s acts of malice. I closed the printer, took a deep breath, and reached over to my printouts from the day before. Debate raged in my head—risk printing the org chart on the departmental printer down the hall, or scribble the names down on some scrap piece of paper? I looked at the screen. There had to be over a hundred names on that chart! Did I even have enough room? I counted the printouts in my hand. One, two, three, four, five.

  Wait, five? Weren’t there six here yesterday? I looked through the stack, one by one. Everything was there except the last page. The one with the last few invoices we’d paid to Morrisson, with my scribbled notes in the margins about transaction times.

  I closed my eyes, tried to think of where I could have left it. Not in my purse. Not on my kitchen table.

  And then it hit me. I’d set the printouts down in the filing room the day before. Had set Morrisson’s file down on top of them when I’d heard those footsteps. I must have grabbed everything but that last sheet when I’d hurried out moments later.

  I smacked the palm of my hand to my forehead. How could I have been so careless? I’d gone and left the most damning piece of evidence behind in plain sight?

  Nausea swept through me. Someone knew I had an interest in Morrisson, that I’d been compiling and printing information about past invoices. But did they know about my connection with Grace?

  I closed my eyes. Saw the anonymous letter in my mind. …or you’ll wind up like she did. I could only hope the answer was still no. For her sake as well as mine.

  * * * *

  “What do you mean you’re not back in town yet?” I asked, my voice an octave higher than usual. He’d said to call when I was on my way, so I had. Come to find out, he hadn’t held up his end of the bargain—to be back in town before my shift was over.

  “I had to stick around, scope the place out. Got a few leads on the owner of that box. One of the post office employees told me she’d had a run in with him about a month ago. Came storming up to the counter, said he was expecting a letter and nothing was in his box. Got all bent out of shape when he found out the letter hadn’t arrived.”

  I glanced in my mirrors and checked for a break in traffic. Finding one, I changed lanes and sped up to pass a dawdling Silverado. The black sedan behind me did the same. Apparently we were both low on patience today.

  “So was she able to give you a description of the guy?”

  “It took a little persuasion, but yeah.”

  I scowled. “You flirted with her.”

  “Well, maybe a little...but, hey, I did it for you.”

  At least he was being honest about it. “Uh-huh. And was she cute?”

  “And you said you’re not the jealous type.”

  I wasn’t. Usually. “I’m not. Just curious. Anyway, back to the mystery PO Box guy…”

  I got back into the right lane. The black sedan behind me immediately followed suit. I glanced into my rearview mirror to get a better look at its driver. Figured it was some young kid who had yet to learn that tailgating could really piss the people around you off. Tinted windows blocked me from seeing much.

  “Dark brown hair, medium height, broad shoulders, scar on his right cheek. Sound like anyone you’ve seen at work?”

  “No. And I’m glad—he sounds totally creepy-looking to me.”

  I caught a flash of something metallic in my peripheral vision. A silver Grand Prix had flown up on my tail out of nowhere and shoehorned itself behind me and the black sedan. It’d tried to pass me before we reached the end of a left turn only lane, but ran out of pavement to do it before the light turned red. Crazy drivers were out in force in the Fort today.

  “But didn’t you get up there before lunchtime? It’s after five, Nate. So, what, it took you all afternoon to get this information out of your little post office hottie?”

  “Wow, I’m gonna have to remember to use this in the future. You are the jealous type.”

  A school bus full of obnoxious extracurricular kids turned onto Lake Avenue in front of me. I got waved and hollered at by several teenage boys. Oh, lucky me.

  “Am not.” The light turned green, and I began closing the gap on the bus. “Just trying to figure out why you aren’t back in town yet.”

  “Well, after I got that information, I decided to stake out the place. Watch for Scarface. And you won’t believe my luck.”

  If I get flipped off one more time… I checked my mirrors, signaled and shifted to the left lane to pass the bus and its bratty contents. “Oh?”

  The black sedan mirrored my lane change once more. An uneasy feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach, but I tried to brush it off. There were dozens of cars on the road alongside me, their drivers likely headed home from a long day at work, too. The week’s stress had gone to my head, that’s all. What I needed was to get home and take a nice long soak in the tub.

  “Yeah. Half an hour later, a guy matching her description walked into the post office. I got out of my car and headed inside, too. Went to the counter and asked for a book of stamps, and cast a casual glance over at the boxes. Sure enough, he opened 578.”

  “Uh-huh.” I stepped on the gas, wanting a quick burst of speed to propel me past the bus. The silver Grand Prix cut over in front of the sedan behind me once more. Unfortunately, my little car didn’t have a high performance engine like the rest of my caravan. In an instant, the Prix was so close to my tail that the driver could have recited my dashboard VIN.

  Damn, I hated being tailed like that. Where was a cop when I really needed one?

  “Jess?”

  Oh, that’s right—he was up in Angola. “Yeah? Sorry, what did you say?”

  I passed the bus and quickly changed lanes. The Prix stayed in the left lane and flew on by. I shot its driver a nasty look.

  “I said the guy got his mail, then headed back outside to a large, maroon cargo van parked on the curb. I jotted down his plates, then followed him to an apartment complex a few blocks away. Been staking out this place ever since, waiting to see where he goes next.”

  I was trying to listen, drive safely, and get a handle on my blood pressure, all at the same time. Probably not the best combination. “So, did you run his plates?” I glanced in my mirrors. Noticed the black sedan had dropped back a bit from me. See? All in my head.

  “Yep. The van belongs to a Marcus Phillipe. He did time back in the eighties for possession with intent to distribute.”

  “You think he’s a courier for Morrisson or something?” The light ahead turned yellow, but that hot bath was calling my name. I passed through the intersection, even though it was nearly as
orange as the one Nate had busted me for last month.

  “It’s possible. He definitely didn’t look like the CEO of a consulting firm.”

  “Who knows, maybe he cleans up ni—” The black sedan flew through the light as well. My heart rate skyrocketed. The light had to have been a solid red by the time he’d entered the intersection. And this was no intersection to be taken lightly. Coliseum Boulevard was one of the busiest streets in the city to cross, especially during rush hour. To blow through a red light there was like playing Russian roulette with two bullets instead of one.

  But when the sedan reached the other side of Lake, it slowed down. Settled in right behind my car. As if the driver had been less worried about the light than losing sight of me.

  My palms began to sweat. “Uh, Nate?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I…think I’m being followed.”

  Chapter 27

  Saying the words out loud made my situation feel that much more real. And dangerous.

  “What? Where are you?”

  “Lake Avenue. I just went through a yellow light at Coliseum. There’s a black sedan behind me—they’ve been changing lanes with me for a few miles now. I didn’t think much about it until he blew through that light well after I did.”

  “Did he drop back after he crossed the intersection?”

  “Yes.”

  Nate cursed. “Looks like something you did today drew some attention.”

  Or something I did yesterday. I clung to the steering wheel and tried to keep my breathing steady. Now was definitely not to the time to start hyperventilating. “W-what should I do?”

  “First of all, I need you to stay calm.” I could hear movement on his end of the phone. Keys rattling, an engine starting. “Next, I need you to stay on busy roads. Got that? Stay out in the open. And whatever you do, don’t go home.”

  “Don’t go home? But…where am I supposed to go?” I heard muffled voices on Nate’s end. “Nate?”

  “Jess, I’m a good hour away. But I’ve got Charlie on the radio. He’s headed to Glenbrook… Go in by the Target entrance, then weave around to the front of Sears. Look for his Hummer over by the key-making hut. He’ll be waiting for you there.”

  “Hummer by the key hut. Got it.” I glanced in my rearview mirror at the black sedan, still following me like an unwanted shadow. “Then what?”

  “Charlie will lose your tail, then take you back to his place. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “O-Okay.”

  “Jess?”

  I pried my eyes off the rearview mirror. Tried to keep my breathing even. “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  * * * *

  Charlie’s plan worked. The black sedan followed me through the Glenbrook side streets, and slowed when I parked beside the only Hummer in the lot. But when they saw Charlie standing there, waiting with the door open for me, they high-tailed it out of there.

  Now I was standing in the bathroom off Charlie’s guest bedroom, trying to convince my reflection that everything was going to be alright. So what if someone tried to follow me home? Or if I’d received a threatening note on my desk and had my printer sabotaged? Nate was back in town, on his way to pick up a few pizzas from The Hut. Once I’d gotten some dinner in me and some time with Nate, my frayed nerves would be smooth as silk.

  Well, that was my hope, anyway.

  The plan was to stay here tonight, then have Nate follow me home early in the morning. Give me a chance to shower and get ready for work. But when Charlie told me Nate was stopping by my place to collect Brutus, I had the sneaking suspicion that me not going home wasn’t just a one-night affair.

  And while I felt much safer this far from home, I couldn’t help but wonder how I would ever be able to sleep tonight. Alone, in the same house as Fort Wayne’s self-crowned Playboy of the Year. Maybe I should try to convince Nate to stay with me. Ah, but if I did that, there were sure to be assumptions, expectations I didn’t want to meet.

  Or did I? My nerves weren’t raw just from today’s activities—my poor body went into high alert every time I was near Nate, or heard his voice, after our almost on Saturday. I stared at my reflection, saw the want in my eyes. Why couldn’t I just give in? Let the cards fall where they may?

  A sudden knock on the bathroom door nearly severed my last remaining nerve of sanity.

  “You sure you have everything you need in there, Jess?” Charlie asked.

  Everything except some freaking peace and quiet! “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”

  I splashed some cool water on my face. Tried to clear away any lasting memories of Saturday. As I dabbed my face dry, I caught site of a bottle of Philosophy on the ledge of the garden-sized tub. It called to me with the force of Oedipus’ sirens.

  Maybe a quick, hot bath before dinner?

  Five minutes later I was in bubble heaven. Intoxicated by the scent of lavender, I sank down into the tub until its warm, velvety contents skimmed the bottom of my chin. I closed my eyes and made a mental note to run out to the store the first chance I got and buy some of this heavenly serum for myself.

  The tension in my body slowly began to fade. At least, it did until I heard a click, like that of a turning doorknob. I dismissed the sound—surely I would have remembered to lock the bathroom door. But then the lights went out.

  “Ah, I see you found the bubble bath.”

  My eyes flew open. Charlie stood with his back to me—wearing only a pair of black, silken boxers. The silhouette of his long, lean body shone in the light of a single candle.

  “Sure did,” I squeaked, and ducked lower in the water. My hands reached out to position a large mound of bubbles over all my important parts. “S-sorry, I guess I should have asked first.”

  “Oh no, I always want my guests to be comfortable.” Charlie turned to face me. “Though I have to admit, I hadn’t pictured you to be the skinny-dipping type.”

  I averted my eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of his stellar six pack.

  “Me, either,” I said with a nervous laugh. Its unusually-high pitch echoed off the bathroom tile. How did I keep getting myself into these messes?

  “If I’d known, I would have steered you to the master suite—the tub in there has so much more elbow room.”

  A fine sweat begin to break out along my hairline. “You know, Charlie, Nate’s going to be back any time. Don’t you think—”

  “Shh,” he said, coming over to kneel on the floor beside the tub. “Don’t you worry about Nate. He knows better than to barge in when I’m up here working my magic.”

  Working his magic? Didn’t he know? Hadn’t Nate told him we were…we were…

  What were we, exactly?

  I felt his hands light onto my shoulders, then his thumbs began making small circles on my back. I froze. “Wow, Jessica, your back’s one giant knot.”

  “Is it?” I didn’t know what to do. Tell him to leave? Tell him to stay? Without permission, my body reverted back to high alert. His hands felt incredible. And that cologne he was wearing… My eyes rolled back in my head and I felt my shoulders begin to relax once more.

  But, wait! What about Nate? “Charlie—”

  “Shh,” he said again, and placed a hungry kiss on the back of my neck. Heat flashed through me. Kisses like that could lead to a whole other kind of stress relief. Sleeping with Nate could lead to heartache, because I truly cared about him. But Charlie? Charlie could be a simple, one-nighter. No emotional attachment, no heartache...

  His hands began to slide down from their place on my shoulders. Broke the plane of the water. Started down toward my—

  “No, Charlie.”

  Sex-starved or not, I wasn’t about to let Charlie walk in and have his way with me. Not when I was, at least in my eyes, seeing his best friend. And especially not when the reason I hadn’t had sex with Nate yet wasn’t his fault, but my own.

  “Relax, Jess. I’ll have you stress free in no—”

  “Nate and I are
seeing each other.”

  He retracted his hands as if he’d just received an electric shock. “You’re what?”

  “Apparently he didn’t kiss and tell.”

  “Damn it. I told him not to mix business and pleasure.”

  I arched a brow at him.

  He shrugged. “His business. My pleasure.” He sunk down onto the bathroom floor, ran a hand through his sandy blond hair and exhaled sharply. “So much for my appetizer.”

  Remorse washed over me. And then guilt for feeling remorse. “Charlie, I’m sorry. I should have told you, but…”

  A sly grin appeared on his face. “Didn’t want to bruise my ego, huh?”

  “No.” I grinned back.

  “If you weren’t so incredibly off-limits, I would really be using that to my advantage right now.”

  “Off-limits?” I said, reaching for additional bubble coverage.

  “Nate and I have always had an agreement—he doesn’t touch my women, and I don’t touch his. You, uh, probably shouldn’t tell him about this whole…” He gestured from me to him.

  “Oh! No. No, I think we’ll just keep this one under wraps.”

  He scowled for a moment at my poor choice of words, then stood. Took one more quick peek into the tub. Then sauntered out of the room.

  I let out a long exhale and sank back down into the soothing water. Whether from hormonal overload or sheer fatigue, I found myself stifling a serious case of the giggles. Not wanting to seriously bruise Charlie’s ego, I bit down on a finger, trying to keep quiet.

  Oh, will Grace love to hear this story…

  I heard Charlie in the next room, zipping up his jeans. Fought another giggle as I pictured how difficult it might have been for him to squeeze back into them. But my giggles evaporated when I heard another door click open and Nate cry out in surprise.

  “What the hell?”

  “Whoa, Man. It’s not what it looks like.”

  Oh, shit.

  I scrambled from the tub and threw a towel around me. Dripping wet, I raced out of the room, and down the stairs. But when I heard the sound of his Camaro peeling out in the driveway, I knew it was too late. I ran to the decorative glass window the skirted each side of Charlie’s entryway and watched, helpless, as the man I needed more than ever vanished into the night.