by Freya Barker
“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. Over his shoulder, Gunnar was leaning in the doorway. “I worry,” Matt finished. Something told me Gunnar had given him some feedback because when I looked back at him, he lightly shrugged his shoulders.
“You know,” I affirmed, looking Matt in the eyes. “If not for Ike, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through these past few weeks. And I will not have anyone bad-mouth him.”
“Gotcha,” he said, with his signature cocky grin.
I walk into the bar with a tray of our daily soup, when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.
“We need to talk.”
Ike
“Is there anything I can get you?”
I look up from my drawing table where I’ve been working on the new engine design for the freight company, due by the end of the week. My days off have set me back a bit. I had to call Viv earlier, to let her know I was working late, and I’d grab a bite when I got there. Last thing I want is that girl, Samantha, interrupting me. But when I turn around, I see she’s already halfway in my office, the too bright smile on her face more of an irritant than a turn on.
“No thanks,” I answer politely before turning my back. “I’ll close up,” I add as an afterthought, dismissing her. I start back where I left off and am drawn right back into my design, when I hear movement behind me. Last thing I expect to see when I swing around is Samantha, in nothing more than a pair of lace boy-shorts. I reel back and lift my hands in a defensive pose. “Whoa. What the fuck? Samantha, I—”
I don’t have a chance to say more before she launches herself at me. The only thing I can do is grab her by the shoulders and turn my head away, which only causes her to latch on to my neck with her mouth. Jesus Christ. This woman is like an octopus. All limbs, clinging onto me. My instinct is to fling her off me with force, but I don’t want to hurt her either. The possibility of this situation turning on a dime is real.
“Stop!” I try to gently set her back, but a sound from the doorway has me lift my eyes. Fucking great. Tim is in the doorway, watching me struggle to push the practically naked girl off me. Before I have a chance to say anything, he mumbles “fucking asshole” and turns on his heels, disappearing down the hall. Goddammit.
“Samantha, knock it off!” Finally I get her off me and try not to look at her body. “What the hell has gotten into you? Get dressed.” I stand up and gingerly move past her to run after Tim. Last thing I want is for him to get the wrong idea. Pretty damn sure it’s already too late for that, but I’ve got to try. By the time I round the reception desk, I just see the elevator doors closing. Son of a bitch.
Knowing I have another situation on my hands, I make a beeline for the phone on the reception desk and call David, who just left half an hour ago.
“Miss me already?” he says, chuckling as he answers his phone.
“Not really. I have a problem here at the office, David.”
His tone instantly turns serious when he answers, “Talk to me.”
“I just told Samantha to get her clothes back on in my office.”
“Say the fuck what?”
“She came in my office, asked me if I needed anything, I told her no and the next thing I know she is draped around me, half-fucking-naked.” I’m about to tell him about Tim showing up, when I hear the click of heels coming down the hallway.
“Here she comes now.”
“Where are you?”
“Reception.”
“Put the phone down and talk to her. Let me hear.” I quickly put the phone, face up, on the desk and turn so my body is covering it when Samantha comes around the corner.
“Oh,” she says, coming to a halt when she sees me. “I thought you’d left.” She fiddles with the hem of her shirt nervously as she looks at me from under her eyebrows.
“What the hell was that all about, Samantha? Why would you do that?”
She looks at the floor, avoiding my eyes, her fingers never stop plucking at her clothes. “I thought you liked me.”
I’m dumbfounded. “How do you figure that? I can’t even remember your fucking name,” I point out in exasperation.
Her mouth opens in a perfect O and tears start to pool in her eyes. Wonderful, here come the waterworks.
“I thought you were flirting, playing hard to get. I wanted to move things along.”
“By taking your clothes off? How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” she answers timidly.
“Christ! I could be your father.” I close my eyes to try and compose myself before I totally lose it. “Samantha, here is a friendly suggestion. What happened in there? Don’t ever do that again. With anyone. For God’s sake, you could’ve been hurt.”
Her sniffling almost makes me miss the muffled voice calling my name. Fuck, forgot about David. Turning I pick up the phone. “Sorry,” I tell David, who immediately asks to speak to the girl.
She looks at me funny when I hold the phone out to her. All I hear is her side, which mostly consists of monosyllabic responses. The conversation is brief, and in a few short minutes she hands the phone back to me.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, before slipping past me to the elevators.
I put the phone to my ear. “You still there?”
“I am. I fired her. Warned her that I heard your entire conversation, and that we wouldn’t press any charges of sexual harassment if she left quietly.”
“You serious? Sexual harassment?” I’m thinking that might be a bit much, but David is obviously of a different opinion.
“Serious as a heart attack. Goes both ways, you know. Not to mention the girl needs a serious lesson before she gets herself into trouble one day. That friendly suggestion of yours wasn’t gonna leave a lasting impression. This will.”
“Right.” There’s not much more I can say. The man’s got a point.
“Best get to my dinner,” David says, and just like that I remember Tim’s hasty departure.
After saying a quick goodbye, I lock up and get on my bike, having a pretty good idea where he might have gone, if my suspicions about him are correct.
-
Pulling in behind the pub, I park my bike and walk around to the front where the patio is pretty busy. Matt and a young girl I don’t know are serving. I’m surprised to be greeted by him with a friendly hello. That’s a change from before. Inside, Syd is picking up an order at the bar which is manned by Gunnar. No Viv in sight.
“Evening,” Gunnar sees me pull up at the end of the bar, where I can keep an eye on the hallway.
“Hey, Viv around?”
“Yep, she’s probably in the kitchen with Tim.” Gunnar obviously thinks nothing of it, but I know it spells trouble with a capital T. Which is why he looks at me funny when I immediately rush past him and down the hall. I should’ve called her. Explained the situation to her before he got here. Fuck.
I stop at the door when I’m greeted with the sight of Viv, wrapped in a tight embrace with Tim, who sees me but doesn’t make a move to let her go, staring me down. The challenge couldn’t be clearer. Viv hasn’t seen me yet, but she pushes on Tim’s chest and steps back.
“You’re a good friend, Tim. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m pretty sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Ike is not that guy.”
His eyes flick up to me before returning to Viv. “She was naked, Viv.”
She lifts up her hand. “I really don’t need this right now, Tim. I trust Ike. I may even love him.”
Atta girl. Her words tug my mouth into a smile. Tim, who seems lost for words, spots it and simply nods.
“You sure?” he asks Viv, but his eyes flick to me. “We had a good thing, didn’t we?”
She chuckles and moves away from him ... and toward me. The moment she spots me, she swings back and gives Tim a good shove in the chest. “You bastard, you knew he was there, didn’t you? Not cool, Tim. Not. Cool.”
He throws me one last look before stalking out of the kitchen, his head down. “Lucky bastard,” h
e mumbles under his breath as he passes me. I don’t even look at him, I’m too busy staring at this amazing woman I’ve been fortunate enough to meet and fall for.
“I was gonna tell you,” she starts, but I stop her by shaking my head.
“No need. I had that one figured.” I smile and take a step closer. She tilts her head to the side as I approach.
“What was this about a naked girl all over you?” The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile, and I can’t quite believe my luck. Any other woman would have my balls in a vice, but this one ... this one may have drama in her life, but she sure doesn’t create it.
“Just that: a girl. One young enough to be my daughter, who got it in her head that I might be interested.” I’m close enough to her to pull her flush against my body. “For the record, I’m not. My attention is fully taken by a certain blonde of a slightly more mature nature.” She’s smiling big now.
“That right?”
“Bet your luscious ass that’s right.” With both hands I cup her full behind and squeeze, leaning in for a kiss.
“I’m working,” she protests weakly.
“Which is why I have to grab a little snack now,” I tell her, closing the gap and covering her mouth with mine. The taste of her is enough to make me forget where we are as my body instantly responds. Slow, languid strokes of my tongue along hers, enough to clear all rational thought from my head.
“Don’t mind me.” Dino’s deep voice startles as he unceremoniously marches in on what was turning out to be a full on make-out session. “I just cook here,” he says with a smirk, before he adds, mumbling under his breath, “There’s a fully functional bed upstairs, you know? Go for a quick break and my damn kitchen is turned into a peep show.”
I reluctantly let go of Viv’s ass as she softly chuckles in my shirt. Grabbing her hand, I pull her out of the kitchen, and with a last look over my shoulder at Dino I throw out, “Cockblocker.” His big booming laugh follows us all the way down the hall to the pub.
Tim is sitting at the end of the bar that’s become my hangout. With a quick touch of my lips to hers, I let Viv get back to work, and slide onto a stool beside him.
“Known Viv for close to four years now,” he starts, his eyes focused on the beer glass on the bar in front of him. “In all that time, I never saw her show interest in any guy. She gave me one shot, one late night when both of us had been drinking. I took it, and I blew it.” His head comes up and he looks me in the eyes. “It would’ve been easier if I’d just stuck to looking from a distance. At least then I wouldn’t know what I was missing out on.”
Not going to say I like the thought of Tim knowing her so intimately, but oddly enough I’d rather it be him than anyone else. He’s a friend. Both for me and for Viv. Even when he was warning her earlier, he did it out of concern for her. Can’t blame him for making that last play, I’m pretty sure I’d have done the same thing.
I clap my hand on his shoulder. “I hear you, my friend,” I tell him before ordering a couple more beers from the pretty blonde bartender.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Viv
“Miss, can you fasten your seatbelt?”
The flight attendant leans over to help me when I fumble, still groggy from the deep sleep I fell into the moment my butt hit the big cushy seat in business class.
The cushy seat is compliments of points Ike collected over the past twelve years of working and traveling for Maine Maritime. I assured him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. What can I say? I’ve never traveled business class before. Now it seems I slept through the experience. Damn.
When the detective from the Los Angeles PD initially contacted me last Friday, telling me he was planning to fly in for a brief interview, I told him to hold off booking—I’d call him back. I still hadn’t heard a word from Dorian, even though I spoke with Kyle a few times. He’d called as soon as he found out. My brother had taken his scheduled flight home the day after our meeting and dumped the whole sordid story on Kyle’s lap. He apologized for Dorian’s thick skull and suggested perhaps if I could fly out for Dor’s birthday, in a week, we could have a good talk. I love Kyle, but I was skeptical about the plan. That is, until the detective called, then it occurred to me I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Three, if you count the brief meeting the LA Assistant District Attorney was hoping for, as well. Something the detective had mentioned when I was talking to him.
After clearing my shifts with Gunnar, I called the detective back and told him I’d be able to fly out on Wednesday and would be leaving for San Francisco the next morning. Ike had not been happy.
“Babe, I have that launch in Boston that weekend. The one that was delayed because of the storm? I can’t make it unless you postpone it a week.”
“But then I’d miss out on Dorian’s birthday. Being able to do both was the reason I decided to fly out in the first place.” My face must’ve shown my disappointment, because Ike folded pretty quickly. Of course he knows how much my family’s silence hurts me. That’s when he pulled up his frequent flyer miles and upgraded my flight.
-
It actually worked out perfect. Ike ended up driving me to Boston this morning in my car, and he’s going to stay there for the launch on Saturday. Sunday I get back and he’ll pick me up before we head home to Portland. Couldn’t have worked out better.
As the plane descends for landing, I let my mind wander to the past week, which has been both one of the worst and one of the best weeks of my life. How ironic that the person I have just tentatively been accepting into my heart—my trust—turns out to be the one whose support for me has been singular and complete. Amazing.
The rumble of the landing gear hitting the tarmac stirs me out of my thoughts. Detective Martens said he would pick me up. He told me they hadn’t had any luck in tracking down Frank. Something I was already aware of, courtesy of Officer Bragdon, who’d stayed in touch with Gunnar. Normally I would’ve bristled at that, but given the weeks I’ve had, I’m rather grateful Gunnar is keeping tabs. As it is, no one knows where he’s at. He checked out from the motel in Portland before the cops got there, apparently.
When the plane comes to a halt at the gate, I reluctantly leave my comfy seat and grab my carry-on from the overhead compartment. I didn’t check anything: it’s summer and what little I need for these couple of days fit easily into the small suitcase. As one of the first to leave the plane, it’s easy to spot the older gentleman holding up the sign with my name. He watches my approach with obvious interest.
“Ms. Lestar?” He smiles broadly when I reach him.
“That’s me,” I answer as he folds the sign up, tucks it under his arm and takes my suitcase from me.
“Detective Martens, LAPD.” He flips open a badge before adding, “Follow me. I’m parked outside.”
LAX is confusing and very crowded; I would surely have gotten lost without my escort. By the time we get to his vehicle, my legs are hurting. He pops the locks and drops my case into the cavernous trunk of the Crown Victoria, before inviting me to get in.
“I just have to make a quick call,” I smile at him, walking away a few steps to dial Ike’s number.
“Hey, love. How was business class?” he answers, making my heart jump a little. He’s called me that a couple more times over the past few days, and I’m liking it. Interesting, since I’m not a particularly mushy person. Normally. Ike has me in a puddle pretty regularly, though.
“Too comfortable,” I chuckle. “Fell asleep about five minutes into the flight and the attendant had to wake me up because we were landing.” The deep rumble of Ike’s laugh feels warm and comfortable.
“Better than sitting squashed between a screaming baby and a big snoring man with body odor,” he jokes.
“Amen to that.”
“So you obviously got there okay. You find the detective yet?”
I sneak a glance over my shoulder at Detective Martens, who had gotten in behind the wheel. “Yup. He was waiting with a big
sign with my name on it. Made me feel pretty damn special.” I smile when I hear his responding growl.
“Tell me he’s old, has a beer belly, and buckteeth, please.”
“Sorry,” I tease him. “No can do.”
“Viv ...” he threatens.
“His teeth are perfectly straight. He doesn’t have a beer belly. And from my vantage point almost a head taller than him, I can safely say he doesn’t have a bald spot either. Although, he’s gotta be hitting his retirement soon,” I laugh.
“Asking for trouble, babe.” Ike makes that sound way too enticing. Especially since I won’t see him until Sunday. “Will you call me when you get to the hotel tonight?”
“Will do,” I tell him on a smile, marveling at the fact that I don’t seem to mind his slightly overprotective demands. Now if it were anyone else ... “Miss you.” The words slip from my mouth before I can check them. Wincing slightly I bite my lip, listening to the silence on the other end.
“Me too, babe. Me fucking, too,” he finally says.
When I get in the car, I’m still wearing a big dumb grin.
-
As expected, the happy feeling didn’t last. By the time I get to the hotel that night after two grueling hours of questioning by Detective Martens and another hour with the ADA, I’m done. Stick a fork in me done. I declined an offer of dinner from the detective, telling him I would grab something in the hotel. Even though I’d since discovered the man has been married for thirty odd years and has a couple of adult kids, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sitting through a meal with him. It’s a matter of trust. Or lack thereof.