by John Inman
“I’ll be your heart,” he said. “It’s only fair, since you’re already mine.”
I lowered my head to his shoulder and rested it there. Ducking a little lower, I laid a kiss to the vaccination scar above his bicep.
“TB,” he said. “Second grade.”
“I know. I’ve got one too.”
He smiled then, finally. Tucking a finger under my chin, he raised my face up to meet his. His eyes were closed, but the moment he had me in position, he leaned in and kissed my mouth.
He pulled back, leaving his taste on my lips. It took him a moment to clear his throat and resurrect his voice. “Promise me you’ll be careful tonight.”
“I promise.”
“I don’t trust this man you’re chasing.”
“I don’t trust him either.”
I thought of telling Kenny about Jim Cotton but knew it would only make him worry more. I left poor Jim Cotton stashed in the back of my mind, where I knew I’d regret his death for the rest of my life.
“Do you carry a gun?” he asked.
“I decided a long time ago never to use one.”
“Why?”
“It’s better if what I do looks… accidental.”
Kenny blinked. “Of course.”
We finished eating then. Later, as darkness truly began to descend, blanketing the house in shadow, I led him through every room, reacquainting him with the layout of furniture and showing him yet again where each of the three landline phones were located. I checked his cell phone to make sure it was sufficiently charged and told him to keep it with him at all times.
“Then I guess I should put on something with pockets,” he said. “Pants maybe.”
“Yes.” I grinned. “That would make it easier. But wait until I leave. I like seeing you the way you are.”
He stepped close and pressed the length of his naked body to mine. We connected at toes, knees, thighs, chest, and all the tender spots in between.
I held him close. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I could take you to a motel, but if he followed us there, he would know where you are, and in a motel room you wouldn’t be protected at all.”
“Stop it, Larry. I’ll be fine. I have the dogs, you know. They’ll let me know if anyone tries to get in.”
Thinking of Kenny’s safety in the hands of François and Chuck gave me instant heartburn, but I knew I didn’t have a choice.
He seemed to know what I was thinking. He pressed a kiss to my Adam’s apple. “Maybe later you can drag out the bandanna again. That was fun.”
I laughed. “That was fun.”
His expression sobered. “Promise me again you’ll stay safe.”
“I will.”
His face sobered a little more. “Maybe when this job is over, we can sit down and talk about finding you a new line of employment that doesn’t entail risking your life, or mine, every time you walk out the door.”
I captured his narrow waist in my broad hands and held him in place. “Will you stay with me all the time if I do?” I asked.
He tensed. “What do you mean? Stay with you all the time? You mean like live with you here, inside this house?”
My throat was tight, but it was a happy tight. It was like a friendly lightning bolt had sizzled down and zapped me gently on the head, igniting nerve endings from my ears to the tip of my toes. I had had no idea I was about to say what I had said, but I knew the moment I said it, it was exactly right.
“Yes, Kenny. Stay with me here. Forever. Move in. Be my lover.”
A tongue tip came out to lick his lip. “Your lover. You mean like full-time, every day, every night, every minute, lover? Exclusive rights, you and me and nobody else? That kind of lovers?”
“Yes. You and me and nobody else. My mother will never stop nagging us until we do anyway.”
He didn’t sound too impressed by that logic. “You think so?”
“I know so. She thinks you’re exactly right for me.”
“And what do you think?” he asked.
I rolled out another laugh. This one came all the way up from the soles of my feet. “I think I never knew she was so fucking smart.”
He stood in front of me, chewing on his cheek. His eyes misted up. So did mine. I was hanging on to his answer like a cat dangling off a clothesline.
“I do love you,” he mused, as if weighing the pros and cons. “On the other hand, you’re a hitman.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” I said. “And stop calling me that.” But this time I smiled when I said it.
He tapped his bare foot, catching my big toe with his every time he did it. “You’re rich, aren’t you?”
“I’m well-off.”
He gave an unimpressed grunt. “Ill-gotten gains, of course.”
“Pretty much.”
He slid his hand down my stomach and cupped my testicles in his hand. It felt so good, I arched up on tiptoe as if pulled by a string. He leaned close and slid his tongue across my chin.
“You need a shave,” he said. His voice seemed to have deepened in the last two minutes. It was husky again. His sexy voice.
“I’m sorry. Are you always going to nag like this?”
“Probably.”
I dropped my forehead to his and closed my eyes. “Good. I’ve come to expect it.”
We stood in each other’s arms so long that the last vestige of daylight vanished, and darkness descended around us. When, over the top of Kenny’s head, I saw the streetlight blink on outside, I stepped back far enough to bend and brush my lips across his.
“Tell me you’re mine now,” I whispered, my voice suddenly as husky as his. “Tell me you’ll stay.”
“I’ll give you my decision later. When I feel you next to me in your bed, all in one piece.”
“Deal,” I said.
“Deal.”
“And it’s our bed now.”
At that, his cheeks went red. It was the first time I had ever seen him blush.
Darkness was still deepening, but I decided to leave the lights unlit. Kenny would be safer in the dark when I was gone. Darkness for him was a default setting anyway, and if the house was in shadow and looking unoccupied, it might throw Davis off the scent—if, God forbid, he came hunting.
Kenny kissed me one last time, and I stepped away to dress for work and what might very well be the last outing of my career. Funny thing, but I really wasn’t that sorry to see it end. Not with Kenny waiting for me on the other side. Of course, I still had one obstacle standing in the way. And I had a hunch that one obstacle might end up being a major roadblock.
Crazyass John Allan Davis was still out there somewhere. Hopped up on crank, maybe, or simply drunk as a skunk. Either way, he knew I was onto him, which made him mean and dangerous. I also knew that until I put a stop to him, neither Kenny nor I would ever truly be safe.
One more job was all it would take. One more killing and I could start a normal life. A life with Kenny. A life where love held the seams together, not terror, not stalking, not the never-ending grief of others.
I sensed Kenny standing tense, audibly following me as I stepped out the front door and locked it in my wake. Aching with need for the man behind the door, I walked away, leaving him buried in shadows he couldn’t see, swallowed up in a darkness he didn’t even know was there.
On the front step, I cast a silent prayer skyward to a God I didn’t believe in. “Keep him safe,” I whispered, wondering if anybody would hear. Then I headed out into the night.
Chapter Sixteen
IT HAD been a while since I met with Tommy’s parents. They had not heard from me once in the ensuing weeks. I wondered if they had given up on me by now, or, if they hadn’t, if they still remembered the rules I had laid down for them at the onset of our oral agreement. Leave the house unlocked. Expect me without warning. Given the amount of time that had passed, had their consciences kicked in? Had they drawn back from what they thought they
wanted to do, or were they still determined to destroy the man who slaughtered their son?
Night had completely fallen, but even so, San Diego was darker than usual. It was almost as if a cloak had been tossed over the city, dimming the streetlights, blotting out the stars. That was because a storm was moving in. I could smell it on the air. Rain was coming. A reek of ozone heralded the approach of thunderclouds, a novelty in San Diego where rainfall was rare, but lightning strikes were even rarer.
Tonight I used my own car, and by the time I exited the Kia and approached the carport at the back of the Craftsman home on Spruce Street, I could feel the wind, with a little nip in it, blowing in from the mountains to the east. I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I’d worn a jacket. Something waterproof. Especially if it was going to rain. If the wind was this chilly, the rain would be cold when it hit. Whatever happened, it was looking to be a nasty night.
But there were good things about a coming rain too. If the storm hit soon enough, the sound of rain and thunder might camouflage my footfalls. The snick of a picked door lock might more easily go unnoticed among the scratching of tree limbs on a windowpane. Above a howling wind, the cries of a man pleading for his life might not carry through apartment walls. The thud of a falling body might be mistaken for a gentle cough of thunder.
As before, there was a single light on inside the Craftsman home, but it was situated at the opposite end from where I stood on the back stoop. I tested the knob on the door, and it turned easily. The occupants had remembered the rules.
I did have my ski mask with me. That would help later when the rains came. I pulled it over my head now, adjusting the eyeholes so my vision wasn’t hindered.
I stepped quickly over the threshold, and the first gusts of a coming storm followed me through the back door.
The woman and her husband were waiting for me in the exact same spots they were in the first time I saw them. Tonight there was no fire in the grate, and with only the Tiffany lamp in the window lit, the room was dim. Nefarious lighting for nefarious deeds.
“We were hoping you would come,” the husband said. His hands were knotted into fists at his side. “Have you done what you said you’d do?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Are you still willing for me to go ahead?”
It was the wife who answered. She hurled herself to her feet, her eyes ablaze in the shadows. “Yes!” She all but spat the word. “Yes, we want you to finish!” Her anger fizzled out almost as quickly as it came. “We’ve been waiting so long,” she stammered. “We thought we’d never hear from you again. Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and left it at that. Somehow I knew telling them I had fallen in love, and that love affairs take time, even for killers, wouldn’t invite much sympathy my way.
The husband sidled closer to his wife and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She appeared to barely tolerate his touch. I wondered if their marriage would survive what they were doing.
“So you’ve seen him,” the husband said. “You came in contact with him.”
“Yes,” I said. “More than once.”
The husband inhaled a long shuddering breath. He still had a death grip on his wife’s shoulders. Clearly he was determined to ask the questions himself. Either that or he was afraid she would go screaming through the house like a mad woman if he left her unrestrained.
“You said you wouldn’t follow through with what we talked about unless you determined the punishment was… deserved. Have you decided?”
“Yes,” I said. “I have no problem whatsoever doing what you asked me to do. From what I can see, no one deserves it more.”
The woman stumbled, collapsing back onto the couch. “Thank God,” she mumbled, clutching her breast. “Thank God.”
Again, the husband lowered himself to her side. His hands never once left her arm, her hand, her knee. Stroking, soothing, comforting. He made a vague gesture to one of the chairs, inviting me to sit, but I ignored the overture. Once again, I wanted no trace evidence transferred from my clothes to their furniture, or vice versa. Just in case.
I eyed each of them in turn. “So you’re both still determined to go through with it, then.”
“Yes,” they said in unison. And the wife added in a tortured voice, “For Tommy. It has to be done for Tommy.”
I bowed my head, accepting their decision. “If you don’t hear from me again, you’ll know that Davis killed me instead. He’s been stalking. Snooping around. He knows I’m watching him. He’s crazy mean, so don’t think I’m indestructible. Just know that I have more experience at this than he does. I suspect I have more determination too. If I thought I couldn’t kill him, I wouldn’t try.”
The husband nodded. “All right.”
I studied their faces through the holes in the mask. They seemed to be holding it together, so I finished what I wanted to say. “There’s a new rule to the game. After I walk out of here tonight, I want you to lock the door behind me and keep all your doors and windows locked until a week has passed. On that night, seven days hence, if the job is finished, I’ll come for the money. Until then it’s too dangerous for you to keep your doors unlocked. In case Davis wins, you understand. In case he decides you were the ones behind the attempted hit.”
“Do you think he knows we hired you?” the husband asked.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But he might just be smart enough to figure it out. Or he might have followed me here. But none of that matters because I fully intend to finish the job tonight.”
“Stay safe,” the wife muttered under her breath.
“Always,” I muttered in return.
And with that, I turned my back on them and walked away.
Outside, the wind had picked up. You could really smell the rain on the air now. The temperature must have dropped ten degrees in the last fifteen minutes. I gave a shudder and wished again I had a coat. I stood on the back porch until I heard the snick of a door lock behind me. Good. They had been paying attention.
At the car, I checked the dashboard clock. An hour had passed since I left Kenny on his own. I sat outside the Craftsman home and punched in his number on my cell. Kenny answered on the second ring.
“Baby,” he said, and I smiled. “Can you smell the storm?” he asked, and I smiled again.
“Yes,” I said. “I smell it. The windows are closed and locked, so don’t worry about it raining in.”
“Okay.”
“Stay off the deck.”
“You told me,” he said.
“Dogs okay?”
“They haven’t said otherwise.”
“I love you,” I said. “Do you still love me?”
“No,” he said. “I changed my mind. I want to marry a plumber.” Kenny the wiseass.
“I’ll show you my plumbing skills when I get home.”
“Eww. Gross.”
I laughed, and he laughed too.
Silence settled in and lasted a beat too long. “Please be careful tonight, Larry.”
“I will.”
“Your mother called. She said she was hearing noises outside her house. I told her it was probably the wind, since there was a storm moving in. I think I calmed her down.”
“Good. She gets a little paranoid sometimes. Thinking the narcs are coming to confiscate her stash of Colombian Gold.”
“You’re mother’s a hoot.”
“Tell me.” I paused. “Gotta go.”
For the first time since I called, all trace of humor left his voice. “I don’t like what’s happening. I don’t like feeling this helpless.”
“I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. I know what I’m doing.”
“Tell me this is your last hit.”
I heard the first plink of raindrops tapping against my windshield, and I rolled the side window up to keep the rain from blowing in. “This is my last hit,” I said. “I promise.”
“And you’re doing it for me?”
“Yes, Kenny. I’m doing it for
you.”
“All right.” Cell-phone static took over, and I wondered if the weather had anything to do with it.
I disconnected first, stared at the silent phone for a second, then set the ringer on vibrate and stuffed it in my pants pocket. I looked down at the seat beside me. The wrench and the length of clothesline were still there. Checking in the rearview mirror, I searched for any uneven headlights on nearby vehicles but didn’t see any. Slowly I pulled away from the curb and headed for Davis’s apartment building.
By the time I got there, the rain was coming down like gangbusters. Behind the rain, Davis’s apartment windows were dark. If he was home, he was sitting in there with the lights off, waiting for me.
Thinking, Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it, I started pulling my shit together, bracing myself mentally for what was about to take place. Then I froze. Kenny’s words came back to me amid the clatter of raindrops on the car roof. Kenny’s words about my mother calling. About her thinking she heard noises outside her house. My mother wasn’t the type to get scared. If she thought she had a prowler, she’d be more apt to sneak outside and bonk them over the head with a wok.
The more I thought about it, the more I decided that phone call sounded wrong.
I dug out my cell again and dialed her number. When she didn’t answer, I disconnected and tried again. And again.
I banged my fist against the steering wheel. “Shit!” Throwing the phone aside, I slammed the car into gear and took off for the coast. It was a fifteen-minute drive at the best of times. In this storm it would probably take twenty. Already I had left Kenny alone in the house too long. I needed to get Davis’s scrawny neck in my hands and finish the job, but I also needed to make sure my mother was safe. As I drove, I punched in her number three more times, but she didn’t answer the phone.
By the time I reached her house, I was rattled.
I switched off the car, and the windshield wipers stopped in midswipe. I peered out through the wash of rain and wind that buffeted the car but couldn’t see a thing. Here at the ocean’s edge, the storm was more violent. I stepped outside and was broadsided by the rain blowing inland off the water. In the distance, I could hear breakers crashing on the rocks.