The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series

by Leigh James

  “How do you know we weren’t involved?” I asked.

  “Because I know that Mr. Walker has real principles, even though he was just holding a gun to my back,” she said and laughed a little. “Everybody at work always said that. He treated people fairly. He was never cruel, or selfish, or egotistical — it wasn’t all about him. You’d look at him, and you would think it should be, but he wasn’t like that.” Her eyes came to rest on Walker.

  “Isn’t,” she said. “He isn’t like that.”

  “So people still believe in you, but Lester is trying to quell that,” she said. “He never says anything directly bad about you, but he plays up the doubt. He’s definitely all over the Board. The Board does not want you to come back, Mr. Walker. They’re trying to figure out what the hell they can do with the company. David Proctor has been working with them closely, trying to help them.”

  Walker looked at me, briefly, while my stomach plummeted at the mention of David’s name. My hands curled into fists.

  “What else?” Walker said, flatly.

  “They’ve interviewed your sister on the news, and your dad,” April said, motioning at me with her chin. “They were both in tears, of course. They said you were innocent, and that neither of you would ever use a bomb, you’d never hurt anybody, and that they hoped you’re both okay. There’s a reward, of course.”

  “Of course,” Walker said. “How much?”

  “A million dollars,” she said. “I’m assuming you’re planning on paying me more than that.”

  “Of course,” Walker said. “Much more. Plus, you get to keep waking up in the morning.”

  “Go me,” April said.

  “Write down your number and your address,” Walker said. “And then I need you to get back to work, now. Do your normal thing — go to your hotel, have dinner, whatever. We’ll have you get a phone that’s secure. Don’t contact us. We’ll get in touch with instructions. Don’t say a word about this to anyone. You know I mean it.

  “If you do this right, you may make more money than Lester Max has in the bank this year,” Walker said. “And I’m guessing that’s quite a bit.”

  April stood up to go. “Remember,” I said, worrying that Walker was letting her go too easily. “You never saw us. But we’ll be watching you. Walker is innocent. We’re coming back, and we’re going to prove it. So stay on the right side. Don’t fuck it up.”

  She nodded at me curtly and sashayed out of the room.

  “Louise, please make sure our guest exits the building safely,” Walker said into the walkie talkie.

  “Yes, sir,” Louise crackled back, and she sounded like she was enjoying herself.

  Walker turned to me. “Our time in Miami is over,” he said. “We have to move. Now.”

  “Good,” I said, rushing to pack up. I’d decided that I had no love for Miami. Too many models. “Where to?”

  “I know a place,” Walker said, packing everything up efficiently. “I think it will be more our speed.”

  “How much money do we have left?” I asked, worried. The Majestic had been great, and all, but I’d love to be able to afford something a little more secure. And maybe a little more clean.

  “Enough to stay someplace nice for as long as we need,” Walker said. “The only other things we need money for are food, condoms and bullets.” He laughed a little and started wiping down the room for fingerprints.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, careful not to touch anything.

  “Sounds like my sort of vacation,” he said.

  * * *

  “Louise,” Walker said, when we got back to the lobby. He handed her the walkie talkie, which he’d been holding with his sleeve so he wouldn’t get any more prints on it. “The Whites are checking out.”

  Louise stuck out her lower lip and pouted. “But this was just startin’ to get fun,” she said, and she and Walker both laughed.

  “All good things must come to an end,” Walker said. She rang us up and he paid her, then handed her an extra stack of bills.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for your generosity, Mr. White,” she said. “It’s been great working with you.”

  “Louise, I’d like to keep you on the payroll,” Walker said. “Mrs. White and I are leaving some unfinished business here. Would you mind looking after it for us?”

  “It’d be my pleasure,” she said, beaming at him.

  “Great,” Walker said. “When I call you with instructions, it will be on the hotel’s main number. Okay?”

  She nodded at him.

  “Oh and Louise — I know you already know this, but — you never saw us,” Walker said, and ushered me out.

  Chapter 10

  Even though it was still daylight, we stole a car.

  “Why’d you have to steal the Mercedes?” I asked, looking around the smooth leather interior. “Someone’s going to be missing it.”

  “They will, but considering that I found it right outside of a gay strip club, and the dude left his wedding ring here, right next to the picture of his wife and kids….” he lifted up a platinum band, “I’m thinking we might have some extra time.”

  “It was dumb luck,” I said, under my breath. “Next time, let’s steal something more under the radar.”

  Walker pulled the SUV over to a parking lot at a supermarket; he jumped out and took the plates off another car, a respectable-looking minivan. I watched in horror as he switched the plates from the Mercedes we’d just stolen to the minivan.

  “Some poor mother is going to get pulled over on her way back from dropping her kids off at school, and get accosted about how she happens to have stolen plates,” I said.

  “I’ll send her a check for her troubles, when this is all over,” Walker said.

  “Do you realize that a large part of your interactions with people involve paying them off?” I asked.

  “Do you remember what your exorbitant hourly rate was, Counselor?” he asked, grinning at me. “I’ve probably paid your firm more money than the car salesman, Levi, April, Louise, and the poor, anonymous soccer-mom combined.”

  “I’m worth my fee,” I sniffed.

  “Oh yeah, Nic. You are.” He grinned at me again and I realized, as we got on the highway and headed west, that we were having much more fun than we probably should be.

  I worried it was some sort of delusion, like when you’re freezing to death and all of a sudden you’re flooded with feelings of warmth and happiness. It was your body’s trick to soothe you, so that you didn’t panic, so that you enjoyed your last moments before your number was truly up.

  I looked at the profile of Walker’s gorgeous face in the setting sun. He had his window down, his hand resting on the car door, letting the warm wind whip through his fingers.

  “I love you,” I said. If we lived for another seventy years, I wanted him to know.

  If we had less than that, I wanted him to know too.

  He looked at me for a second and smiled, and I saw joy on his face. “I love you too, Nic. I love you too.”

  * * *

  “Okay,” Walker said, as he pulled the car off the road, into a deserted office building parking lot. “Before we get to Boca, I need to show you how to shoot a gun.”

  I looked around the parking lot nervously. There were streetlights on and the road was right there. “Aren’t we going to get arrested, or something?”

  “Nic, no one’s out right now. This isn’t a residential area — no one’s going to hear us and report us. Besides, this is Florida. They’re used to the sound. There’s hunters here, fishermen.” I looked at him dubiously. “Besides, it’ll only take a few minutes. I don’t want to teach you to shoot someone else, exactly — I want to teach you to not shoot yourself.”

  I sighed and followed him out of the car, unwillingly. Everything about this was wrong. First of all, we were wanted by every type of police force there was. Second, we were driving a stolen car that had plates on it we’d stolen from another car. Third, we were
going to shoot guns, shattering the silence.

  Fourth, I just really hated guns.

  Walker brought me over to the edge of the lot, which was bordered by grass that ran out to a dark, low wilderness. He tried to hand me the small gun, but I just looked at it, and him, skeptically.

  “Pretend Norris Phaland is out there, looking for you,” he said, by way of encouragement. “Or pretend it’s a mob of supermodels trying to carry me away.”

  I laughed and then I stopped laughing. Then I took the gun from him.

  “Just hold it up and look at it, to start,” Walker said. “It’s not loaded.”

  “We don't have much time,” I said, nervously.

  “We have enough,” he said. “Take a look.”

  He showed me the chamber, the safety, and the nozzle, and how to hold it and aim it. “You look through here,” he said, pointing to part of the gun, “and you stand like this.” He put his hands on my hips and put his foot between my legs, spreading them apart.

  “Oh, baby,” I said, tossing my hair and looking at him over my shoulder. “I like that.”

  “I’m sure you do. But stop trying to distract me,” he said, and smacked me on the ass.

  I sighed and gripped the gun: it was small and relatively light, but the handle was already getting slippery from the sweat that was pouring from my hands.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Walker wrapped his arms and hands over mine, gripping the gun. “You point it like this,” he said, lifting my arms so they were in a straight line. “Look through here, and pull the trigger!”

  The gun clicked and I felt like I was going to throw up, even with his arms around me.

  “Are you ready to really do it?” he asked. “We can’t do target practice ‘cause it’s too dark out, but at least you’ll know how to hold it and shoot. Be ready — there’s some kickback once it fires. It’ll push you back a little and make your fingers tingle. But don’t be afraid, and hold your arms steady, even after you discharge your weapon. It affects your aim.”

  He took the gun from me and I watched as he opened the chamber and filled it with bullets. He closed it, put the safety on, and handed it to me, handle first. I took it gingerly and turned towards the dark, low woods.

  “Watch your posture,” Walker said, and I stood up straighter and spread my legs like he’d showed me. I pointed the barrel out towards the darkness and I took aim. I took the safety off. And then I pulled the trigger and shot at the darkness.

  The noise seemed atomic, breaking the peaceful sounds of the night creatures humming. My body rocked back from the force, and even though I knew I was supposed to stand still, I couldn’t stay on the balls of my feet.

  “Again,” Walker said. “And stand your ground this time. You’re stronger than that.”

  I raised the weapon and fired again and this time, I didn’t flinch. So I did it again, and again, until I had emptied the chamber into the darkness and my fingertips were all numb.

  I turned back to Walker, holding out the gun.

  “You keep it,” he said softly, and I could hear how proud he was of me in his voice.

  “I never thought I’d have a gun,” I said, smiling at him jauntily as he held the car door open for me. “I never thought I’d have a badass billionaire boyfriend either.”

  He laughed and hopped in next to me. “Especially not one who was so nuts about you, he tattooed your name to his back.”

  “It really is a nice touch,” I said.

  “That’s what I’m all about, baby. The nice touches,” Walker said, and pulled the car back out onto the road. “I take you to all the best places, like deserted parking lots and The Majestic.”

  “You really need to stop spoiling me,” I said.

  We were quiet for a minute, watching the darkening land roll by.

  “On a more serious note,” he said, breaking the silence, “I don't want you to have to use that gun, but you’re going to have to keep it on you. When we get to Boca, I’ll show you how to load it. But even if we just go out for a quick errand, I need you to have it. You’re my second. If someone jumped us, grabbed me….” he said, and his voice got dark with worry. “I can’t leave you unprotected. If that happens, and you’re afraid, just run.”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” I said, my voice incredulous. “I’ll just shoot the guy. In the knee, or something — like you did before.”

  “That’s sweet,” he said, and patted my hand. “Can you just make sure he’s not holding onto me when you do it?”

  “Sure thing,” I said.

  * * *

  Not having a cellphone and not knowing what was going on in the world was…nice. It was really, really nice. As we cruised down the highway to the west coast of Florida, the Gulf coast, I almost let myself forget about all the trouble we were running from. All the people we’d left behind.

  If she cooperated, April was going to be helpful. Once we got where we were going, Walker said we were getting a computer and setting up some sort of private network. In all the excitement, with being nearly grazed by bullets and Walker’s big biceps to stare at, I’d forgotten that he was somewhat of a technical genius. An image of him as a lanky teenager, trying to invent things that would blow up while he spent lonely afternoons in his basement, came to me and I smiled.

  “What?” Walker asked, as he drove. It was dark out now, close to nine o’clock.

  “I was just picturing you in your mad-scientist phase,” I said. “Back when you were a kid.”

  “It was fun,” he said. “By the time she was old enough to, Adrian thought I was a geek. But I had fun doing those types of things by myself. There’s something about being alone and being lonely…that helps you become a better person.”

  “I know all about that,” I said. “I was a huge nerd growing up. I didn't have a lot of friends, I had a sick mom and two little brothers, and I had a ridiculous grade point average to look after.”

  “I’ve never met someone who valued that sort of space in their own head the way that I do. Except you,” he said.

  “You mean Minky Luca didn’t understand where you were coming from?” I asked. I laughed a little. “That makes me feel better. If she were deep and if she’d been a nerd growing up, it wouldn’t be fair.” Minky didn’t bother me that much…but I did still hate her stupid yellow ruffled bikini.

  “It wasn’t just her,” Walker said. “It was like everyone around me didn’t really know who I was. You’re the first person I’ve been able to be real with,” Walker said. “And look where we are. I finally meet the perfect girl, and it’s all I can do to keep her from getting blown up.”

  “I feel your pain,” I said. Dating a billionaire just for the perks was vastly overrated.

  “It’s not how I pictured it,” Walker said, “but it works.”

  There were road signs ahead for Port Charlotte and Boca Grande; Walker got into the left lane and put his directional on. “Where are we going, exactly?” I asked.

  “Boca Grande,” Walker said, expertly maneuvering the silent SUV through the light traffic. “It’s a little island. It’s beautiful, quiet. This time of year it’ll mostly be locals, but there are plenty of houses to rent. We’ll find one and stay put.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  “Me, too,” Walker said and squeezed my hand. “Right after we pick up some bullets. And some condoms.”

  “Let’s not forget the food,” I said. “We need something besides pizza.”

  “Can you cook?” Walker asked. I realized that in our brief time together, we’d only ever ordered takeout.

  “I can make a few things,” I said, running over the dinners I’d made for my dad and little brothers. “Would you like me to make dinner tomorrow? You can set up the computer system, I can make food.” It sounded like domestic bliss, compared to the Styrofoam containers of food we’d had on the chintz bedspread back at The Majestic.

  “That’s perfect,” Walker said. We pulled up to a toll booth
on a narrow bridge; Walker paid the non-resident fee while I looked out the window, hoping that the toll collector thought we looked like we were on a fishing trip or something, even though we had no equipment. I looked out at the water, which glistened darkly. I didn’t even have a bathing suit.

  “Where are we going to stay tonight?” I asked. We drove down the two-lane road into the little town of Boca, which was calm and quiet at this hour. Walker pulled over and pulled out his Tracfone. He pointed to a sign: Gulf Realty.

  “You’re calling them at this hour? I asked.

  “Realtors never sleep,” Walker said. “Especially Florida ones.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Tim the real estate broker had just left with our contract in hand, thrilled to have made one last deal of the day. We were standing in the living room of our new month-to-month condominium rental, luxuriously furnished by its owner, with a view of the Gulf. We could only see its black outline tonight, reflected by the moon.

  The condominium was gorgeous. It was so clean, I cringed when I thought of The Majestic or the place in Southie.

  “We could have gotten a cheaper place,” I admonished Walker, totally happy that we hadn’t.

  “I picked this one for a reason,” he said.

  “The view?” I asked.

  “Partly,” he said, bringing me over to the window. “You can’t see it well tonight, but we are at the Southern-most tip of the island. That’s why I wanted this place. We have a clear view of the water from here, and the road on the other side. It would be tough to get snuck up on, which is exactly what we want.”

  “You’ve been here before?” I asked.

  “To Boca, yes — but I’ve never stayed out here. I drove a golf cart out to the beach when I was here and I remembered it,” he said. “It seemed safe, like a good place to be if there was ever any trouble.”