On Edge

by Kim Cong

  “Must be.” I knew he could hear the smile in my voice.

  “What can I do for you, Jetta?”

  “Are you busy tonight?”

  “Why?”

  I squirmed a little, glancing at the guards on either side of me in the taxi. “I wanted to call you. Talk.”

  “About?”

  “I don’t know. Stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I was surprised he wasn’t demanding more information.

  “Sure. I’ll be home around seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll… I’ll call you then.”

  “Looking forward to it, princess.”

  I smiled, “Okay, well that was it.”

  “Jetta?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No phone sex.”

  “What!” My shout caused the occupants of the taxi to turn and look at me. I blushed, avoiding their eyes, and hissed down the phone, “I never!”

  “You will.” His smug tone was both infuriating and a turn-on. “Just not tonight.”

  “You are a bad man, Paxton Elliot.”

  He laughed. “I know. Later, Jet.”

  “Later, Pax.”

  We hung up and I sank back against the seat, tilting my head back and closing my eyes.

  I’d lied. I was so not objective in this relationship.

  “What time is it?”

  I glanced at the bedside clock in my hotel room. “Gosh. It’s nearly 4:00 a.m.”

  “Damn.” His voice was husky with sleep. I grinned a little at the genuine regret I heard in his voice.

  I’d called him at 7:00 p.m. as promised. Nearly nine hours later we were still talking.

  “I should let you go. You need to get at least some sleep before going to work tomorrow.” I could hear the reluctance in my voice.

  “Yeah. You should go too.”

  We both fell silent, neither of us moving to hang up.

  “Can we do this again?” I felt vulnerable. This had meant a lot to me. We were talking about our day, our life, and our dreams. I hadn’t known he wanted to travel to Africa, or that he wanted three or four kids of any gender.

  “Of course. I’ll call you later today.”

  I smiled down the phone. “Okay. Good morning, Pax.”

  “Mmm, good morning, Jetta. Miss you.”

  I grinned. “Miss you, too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” I hit the red button and plugged the mobile in to the phone charger. A text message silently lit the screen.

  Goodnight sexy.

  I felt everything in me warm in response. “You’re a bad man, Paxton Elliot.”

  Pax called as I started my lunch break. Or, more specifically, he’d called one of my bodyguards, Ben, who handed me the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Jet.” His deep voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Something’s come up. I may be late on the call tonight.”

  “Oh. Do you want me to reschedule?”

  “No.” The emphasis on that word erased any doubts I may have had. “No, I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”

  “Okay.” I chewed my thumbnail for a moment. “Is this something dangerous?”

  “The job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Babe.” The word held a wealth of meaning. “I work in security.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Okay, right. Two things now and we can talk about this more tonight. One—yes, my job has inherent dangers. Two—work is tough. Some of my work is dangerous. The majority is classified. Meaning, I can’t bring it home. I can’t give you specifics or let you know what went down. Clients are need-to-know information. I can give you general shit, like had a rough day, got punched in the face protecting someone, etcetera. But that’s all.”

  “Right.” I let that sink in, trying to work out if I was okay with that.

  “Jet?”

  “I’m here. Does that happen often? The getting punched in the face, I mean.”

  He laughed. “Only if I don’t duck quickly enough.” His voice turned serious. “You going to be okay with this? Be able to cope with me not sharing?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, running fingers across my eyelids. “I hate the thought that there is a part of you that will be shut off from me. That I can’t support you, can’t be your sounding board. Can’t give you what you give me.”

  “What if I told you all I want to do is go home and not think about work?”

  “I don’t know. I… I just don’t know. I feel like you need more.”

  “I don’t. You’ll get that.” His voice was confident. “John, one of the older guys who works for me, his wife, Dot, they’ve been together thirty-odd years. He says she can generally handle it. Asks how his day is, leaves it at that. But sometimes, if they’ve fallen into a bit of a communication hole, or she feels disconnected or he’s being a dick and won’t tell her why—she flips. Calls him out. Tells him he never speaks to her. Let’s rip on the whole job thing. Says shit about it making her feel like a lesser partner in the relationship.”

  “And what does he do?”

  “He talks her down, pulls his head out of his arse and makes an effort. He tells her about shit he can. He connects any way he can and puts in the effort to make her feel connected. He makes her feel appreciated and loved. He makes known that he needs her.”

  “Disconnection. That’s their issue.”

  “Yeah. And it’s easy to see why.”

  “So he makes an effort to let her in.”

  “And she makes an effort not to let it bother her and to trust him.”

  “It’s a partnership.”

  “Yeah.”

  We both fell silent.

  “Tonight?” His voice was soft.

  “Yeah, I’ll look forward to your call.”

  “Okay, princess. Go make music.”

  I grinned. “Go kick bad person butt.”

  “Go.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I handed the phone back to Ben, who exchanged it for a bottle of water. I smiled my thanks, downing the contents.

  “All good?”

  I nodded at Ben’s question. “Yeah, he just wanted to chat.”

  “Pax?”

  “Uhuh.” I glanced over to see him shaking his head. “What?”

  “I’ve known the guy five years. Not once, not in the army or now, has he ever called someone just to chat.”

  “There’s a first time for everything?” I laughed.

  “Yeah. That’s it. Has nothing to do with him wanting to get you nake—”

  “Jetta!” We both turned to Paul.

  “Paul.” I greeted him with a small smile. It was hard to be around someone I no longer trusted.

  “Jet, we—” He cut off, glancing at Ben. “Can you give us some space?”

  “No.” Ben straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at us. Paul flushed, his eyes glinting, but his mouth shut, thinning out. He turned back to me. “Jet.”

  “That’s my name.”

  “We have three weeks to the first concert.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re not ready. Not even close. Your recordings today were shit.”

  I took a deep breath, mentally reciting my four Rs. “Paul—”

  “No, Jet.” He made a cutting motion with his hands. “You gotta get this shit together. And you need to go on a fucking diet. No one wants to see a belly bulge when you put your costumes on.”

  I gritted my teeth. “First—I am wearing my own clothes and not going on a diet. I am a healthy size and okay with how I look. Suck it up.”

  He opened his mouth but I ignored him. “And second. I am performing. I am doing very well for someone who hasn’t performed in over ten years. So you can suck that up too and give me constructive criticism and I’ll work on it in the next take.”

  Paul’s chest puffed in and out quickly as he huffed his displeasure.

&n
bsp; “You’re shaking on the high notes, you’re not aiming for that same gravelly texture your mum sang with, and your voice keeps breaking in the middle of ‘Like a Family.’ You need to pull that shit together.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yes. Fine. I’ll work on it and we can rerecord tomorrow.”

  Paul shook his head. “You gotta get this right, Jetta, or all our money is down the drain. Wasted.”

  I clenched my teeth. “I know this, Paul.”

  “Good. Then get it right.” With that piece of wisdom, he turned and stalked off, yelling for Marco.

  “And love you, too.” I shook my head.

  “You right?”

  I glanced over at Ben and offered him a smile. “Yeah, all good.”

  “Sure?”

  I shook my head. “Paul’s like this. Passionate, sometimes a dick. I used to have to run interference with him and Courtney all the time. I’m used to it.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should put up with his attitude.”

  Again I shrugged. “He’s family.”

  “He’s a dick.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact he’s family.”

  Ben grunted in reply and dropped his arms. “Go get some lunch.”

  I gave him a snappy salute. “Yes, sir!”

  He grinned at me and ruffled my hair as we both moved toward the kitchen area of the studio. “I’m starting to see why Pax wants to chat with you.”

  “My winning personality?”

  “Ask Pax. He’ll tell you.”

  I glanced over at Ben as we entered the kitchen. “Tell me what exactly?”

  “That you’re worth the effort.”

  I looked up at him. He just grinned at me and winked before turning to get a sandwich from the platter.

  “Dear Lord, what have I gotten into?”

  Paxton

  Pax laughed softly at Jet’s impression of Paul.

  “And then I just gave up. He’s impossible to deal with, but he does get results.”

  Pax rubbed a hand over his eyes, still smiling. “I know the guy is shifty as fuck, but I can’t deny that he’s a funny man.”

  Jet laughed into the phone. “Yeah. He is. I really hope that you’re wrong about him. I know what Sawyer said, and what your gut is saying and the whole money thing but he’s family¸ you know? For a long time, he was the only one who was present in our lives.”

  They both fell silent, a comfortable pause not needing words.

  “Mum called today.”

  “Oh? How are Kathy and Ross?”

  “Yeah, Mum and Dad are well. Told them about us.”

  There was a small pause, and he felt the grin grow on his face. “Us?”

  “Yeah. That we’re together.”

  “That’s… What did they say?”

  “Mum is fucking beside herself. She wants a family dinner when you’re back in town.”

  “And Ross?”

  “Said he’d clean off the pizza oven.”

  “I love your dad’s wood-fired pizzas.”

  “Hence him cleaning it off.”

  “So they’re okay with us?”

  “Fucking stoked.”

  “Oh.”

  Pax sat up from where he’d been laying on the couch. Twisting up, he swung his legs down onto the floor and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “Jetta?”

  “I thought they’d hate me.”

  “Why?”

  “I was ashamed of how badly Courtney and I were doing. So I let our side of the relationship down.”

  Pax’s body loosened. “They get it, Jetta.”

  “But—”

  “Babe. They’re good. They get it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. We should… What should I bring?”

  “You still make those caramel tarts?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bring those. Dad loves them.”

  “Okay.”

  “We good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, sweet girl. Gotta go. Need to hit the shower and then bed.”

  “Okay, Pax. Miss you.”

  He grinned. “Miss you, too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye, Jetta.”

  They hit the end buttons. Pax remained seated for a long moment, considering if he should call her back and tell her the truth.

  Shit was about to go down.

  He shook his head. She’d sleep better not knowing.

  Decision made, Pax headed to the outer area of his office.

  “Yo.”

  Luc appeared beside him.

  “How’s Evie?”

  Luc grinned at him. “A trooper. They’re moving her to outpatient apartments this week. Basically means she’ll be out of the hospital and in a respite care area to start work on physical therapy.”

  “Good.” They grinned at each other. “Costs?”

  “Already taken care of.”

  “You put it on the company account?”

  “Yeah, brother.”

  “Good.” Pax’s eyes narrowed at his best friend. “So Evie, huh?”

  Luc grinned. “My lips are sealed, old man.”

  “Make sure your zipper is too.”

  Luc threw his head back, laughing. “Don’t act like that.”

  “Dude, she’s basically the most innocent woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Pax—”

  “Don’t break her heart.”

  “Says Cupid himself.”

  They both looked at each other and then laughed. “Touché, dickhead.” Pax clasped a hand around Luc’s forearm and squeezed.

  “Thanks for volunteering for this.”

  “No worries. We got a man on Evie so I’m free to work this.”

  “It’s going to be messy.”

  “We knew that the moment we sent Brean in.”

  Pax nodded. “Shit. Okay. Let’s get this done.”

  Pax and Luc walked into the downstairs conference area, war faces on. The Australian Federal Police, or AFP as they were commonly termed, were seated around the large conference table. An older woman, her hair cropped short and greying, stood and held out her hand.

  “Mr Elliot.”

  Pax shook it and nodded at her. “Ms. Norris.”

  They both sat as the rest of the table watched.

  “We got your message.”

  Straight to the point. The woman didn’t muck around. Pax nodded but didn’t comment.

  Annabelle Norris stared at him from a long silent minute and then sighed. “We’re not ready to pull your man out yet.”

  Pax shook his head. “He’s ready to be out. We agreed going into this that it would be a twelve-month mission. He’s been there nearly eighteen months now. He’s given you all the shit you need. He wants out.”

  Annabelle leaned forward. “Paxton, you and your man know that this is essential. Esso is into everything. Trafficking, drugs, prostitution, fraud, gangland executions. We need Brean to stay put until we have enough dirt to shut down the whole operation.”

  “You have it.” Pax was firm. “I’m not an idiot, Annabelle. I see the Intel that Brean supplies. You had it six months ago and you’ve still got him in there. Tell me why.”

  Annabelle sighed and slumped back in her chair. The other three officers from the AFP all avoided Pax’s eyes.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I cannot confirm or deny anything, Pax.”

  “Tell me.”

  “We have suspicions.”

  “About?”

  “That Esso isn’t the head of the operation.”

  Pax glanced and Luc, who swung his head to look at Pax. Their eyes met and they both turned to look at Annabelle again.

  “Explain.”

  Annabelle suddenly looked older than her fifty-odd years. The wrinkles in her face stood out and her eyes looked tired. “Evidence suggested there is a—an anonymous backer. That Esso didn’t accumula
te his vast wealth on his own.”

  “But you don’t know who it is?”

  “No. And my superiors aren’t willing to withdraw the only man who has been able to get to Esso’s upper echelon. We want the whole syndicate, not just the trimmings.”

  Paxton stood abruptly, his chair rolling back. “This is bullshit, Annabelle.”

  “I know.” She rubbed a hand across her temples. “I know.”

  “I’m pulling it. Our contract is void.”

  “I guessed you’d say that.” She sighed. “I’ve got authority to counter-offer.”

  “And that’s?”

  “Give me a month. We don’t have anything by then, we take the whole lot down and Brean is out, clean and clear.”

  “You’re paying him more.”

  “Don’t worry. The amount your company is getting is more than we’ve ever paid a contractor before.”

  “I accept on one condition.”

  “That being?”

  “If Brean gives the signal, if he gets a whiff that he’s not safe—we pull him immediately and take it down.”

  Annabelle glanced over at her team, who were nodding. “Done.” She stood and held a hand out.

  “One month, Annabelle.” Pax shook her hand, his comment making it clear where they stood.

  She nodded. “One month.”

  Jetta

  I hung up and placed the phone back on my bedside table. The hotel room was cool from the air-conditioning. I was sprawled across the bed, the room dark as it was late.

  I missed Courtney.

  My little sister and I had talked at least three to four times a week, checking in, keeping up. I got up from the bed and walked to the balcony doors. The floor-to-ceiling glass was cool as I pressed my head against it, looking outside at the city lights.

  She had hated me for many years. In Courtney’s mind, I was the reason our parents were gone and why our lives had so drastically changed. I replayed that day in my head.

  Ten years earlier – Jetta

  Paxton drove like the hounds of hell were upon us. We made it from the coast to Canberra in under two hours. Considering the drive down took three, I didn’t want to know how many road rules he’d broken. As he pulled into the hospital car park, I threw myself from the vehicle, running for the entrance. The reception desk was to my left.

  “I’m Jetta Oliver—my parents...”

  The kindly looking man behind the desk glanced down at the computer before him. “Miss Oliver, if you’ll give me a moment—”