by Andrew Grey
“But he’s alone all day,” Andrew said, kneeling down when Petey finished, holding out his hand. Petey came right over for more scratches. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” He scratched between Petey’s ears, and the dog sat down, soaking in the attention. “Why don’t you bring him to the house? It’s a shame to leave him here all alone so much of the time.”
Clay seemed taken aback. “Are you serious?” It was clear Clay really cared for his dog.
“Sure, and we can take him into work with us if you’d like. Eileen loves dogs, and that way he can be close.” Andrew had no idea why he was offering, other than the way the dog looked at him with those big, lonely eyes must have affected him. He needed to be professional, and that meant detached. But hell, it was difficult under the circumstances.
“Petey is very well behaved. He doesn’t chew things except what’s given to him. Do you have animals?” Clay asked.
“No,” Andrew answered softly. “I never had them growing up, so I guess I never gave any thought to getting one.” He continued stroking Petey’s soft fur.
Clay opened the cupboard and pulled out a treat. He handed it to him, and Andrew gave it to Petey. “You’ll be his friend for life now.” Clay smiled as Petey raced off into the living room. “He’ll eat it under the coffee table and come out when he’s done.” Clay closed the cupboard door. “Do you want anything to drink while I get my things?”
Andrew shook his head, looking around the house as Clay hurried away. He returned with a small bag that he placed by the back door, and then he paused.
“You could stay here if you’d like,” Clay offered. “It isn’t likely that Grange will look for you here.” He turned around, gesturing to the space. “If he wants to get to you, the first place he’ll look is at your home.”
Andrew thought for a second. What Clay said made sense. If Grange was truly out to find him, even while he was on the run, the harder they made it for him, the better off he was. “If you think that’s prudent.” All Andrew had to do was remember back to that phone call and the way that deep, haltingly slow voice laid out exactly what was going to happen to him in vivid, medieval detail. He shivered just thinking about it.
“We need to keep you safe,” Clay said. “I can take you to your house so you can pack a bag and then bring you back here. Where is your car right now?”
“In my garage. I got a ride to my hotel last night with a friend.”
Clay’s eyes widened. “Did you walk to court?”
Andrew nodded.
“That was a very unnecessary risk. We need to make sure you aren’t out in public. Those are the easiest times where you could be attacked or taken.”
“I’m an adult and I can take care of myself!” Andrew snapped. “I’ve been doing it all my life.”
Clay stalked closer. “That may be true, but was someone trying to get to you so they can take revenge on you? Someone who assaulted at least eight people and threatened others? This isn’t business as usual. It’s keeping you safe, your honor.” Clay loomed over him, and Andrew’s first thought was that it would be sexy under different circumstances. “You don’t need to be so high and mighty. This is my territory, and I know what we need to do to keep you safe. And walking across the street in plain sight of anyone sure as hell isn’t it.”
Petey barked sharply, drawing their attention.
“He hates raised voices,” Clay said more quietly. “Sorry, boy. Andrew and I were having a discussion, that’s all.” He petted him, and Petey ambled off after a few moments. “Just follow my instructions and we’ll be fine.”
Andrew ground his teeth. “Fine.” He was used to being in charge; it was where he was comfortable. This whole situation left him completely out of control, with no say in anything, including something as simple as crossing a damned street. “I’ll do what you say as far as my protection is concerned.”
“Thank you,” Clay said. Andrew had to give him credit—he didn’t seem to gloat or be pleased about having won. “I know you want to live your life as normally as possible, we both do, but that isn’t going to happen until Harper Grange is safe behind bars once again.” Clay motioned to the door. “Let’s get your things and come back before it gets dark.”
Andrew nodded, and they left the house.
Petey was none too happy, and his barks sounded until they reached the garage.
“He’ll be fine as soon as we’re out of sight, and he’ll be happy when we return.” Clay unlocked the overhead door, and they got into the car to head to Andrew’s home. “The sheriff texted me the address, and I drove by this morning before work to see it and to make sure no one was watching it. I didn’t see anything, but that means little. We need to get what you need and get out quickly. Then I thought we’d take a few detours through various areas of town, making sure we aren’t being followed or watched, before going back to the house.”
“Why didn’t we do that on the way here?” Andrew said as they pulled to a stop.
“Because this is the point where you would be known. If Grange has men watching your house, they will see you, and that can lead back to where you’re staying. We need to prevent that.” Clay turned off the engine and got out. “Give me your keys.”
Andrew handed them over, and Clay marched up to the front door, unlocked it, and went inside, with Andrew following behind. The house looked the same as usual to him, the hallway dark. Andrew turned on the lights and flipped switches to illuminate the living and dining rooms.
Clay checked each room and then motioned to the stairs. “Get what you need quickly and we’ll go.”
Andrew nodded. He climbed the stairs and headed to his bedroom in the back of the house. “How much do I need?” he asked, grabbing a suitcase from the closet and flipping it open on the bed.
“Enough for a few days. You have what you brought to the hotel, and we can do laundry. Don’t take too long.”
Clay left the room, and Andrew heard his footsteps heading toward the front of the house. He imagined him peeking out from behind the curtains, but didn’t spend much time on it. He had a task to do and packed quickly.
Clay returned and walked around the bed to peer out between the curtains, seemingly strung as tight as a bowstring.
“I’m almost done.” Andrew went into the bathroom, grabbed some additional toiletries, and added them to the suitcase. Then he closed it and carried it out of the room. Next, he grabbed his lap desk from beside the table and joined Clay, who had his suitcase in hand. “Let’s go.”
Clay led the way, and Andrew turned out the lights as they went. He let Clay lock the door, and they hurried to the car as Clay updated the sheriff. It wasn’t until the doors were closed and Clay had started the engine that Andrew felt as though he could breathe freely. Clay pulled away, and Andrew turned to look at his home as it disappeared from view.
“It’s only for a few days.”
If that were true, then why did Andrew get the feeling he was saying goodbye?
He turned back around. “I hope so,” he mumbled, and sat back as Clay made numerous turns through town. “Do you cook, Clay?” He figured he might as well see how the two of them were going to live together under one roof. Andrew had a very good idea that he was going to sweat through pretty much all the clothes he’d brought. Being this close to Clay raised his temperature, that was for sure.
“Yes. I’m not too bad at it. Mostly I cook on days off for the rest of the week. I had an aunt who taught me to cook for my own desperate self-preservation.” Clay pulled to a stop, then made another turn to head to his place and pulled into the garage.
Petey was ecstatic to see them, running around to get their attention. Once he’d had enough and curled up on his sleeping cushion in the corner of the living room, Clay took Andrew upstairs and showed him his room. Petey followed, used the bench at the foot to get on the bed, and made himself comfortable.
“Stop that. This is Andrew’s room. You have your own,” Clay scolded, lifting Petey off the
bed and setting him back on the floor.
“His own room?” Andrew asked.
Clay went across the hall and pushed the door open farther. The room was small, stuffed with a doggie bed, play toys, and even some kind of dog jungle gym. Petey ambled over and walked through the tunnel and over a beam, his little legs going like crazy.
“We did a lot of training when he was younger and Petey liked it, so I built this for him. It keeps him fit and sharp.” Clay smiled as Petey, who seemed to sense that the show was over, climbed into his bed, curling into a ball. “He usually sleeps in here, except for when it gets really cold. Then he gets on the bed with me and does his best to burrow in. Thankfully we aren’t going to have to worry about that.”
Andrew had expected things to be strained and frankly weird, but Petey seemed to have been able to break the ice. “I appreciate this.”
“No problem. Get yourself settled, and I’ll start dinner.” Clay left, heading toward the stairs, and Andrew went to his room, doing his best not to watch Clay’s backside until he disappeared from view. Dang it, he needed to get himself under control.
It probably would have been easier if Clay had been the jerk he’d thought he was, rather than a nice guy at heart. Of course, they’d always met in court before, and the two of them hadn’t hit it off very well. They’d glared at each other and butted heads, with Clay skirting contempt more than once. Maybe they were both in-control kind of guys. The other judges seemed to think a great deal of Clay, so it must be Andrew.
“Hey, Petey,” Andrew said as the dog nosed his way into the room, wandered around, and then left, heading down the stairs, his chain collar tinkling as he went. Andrew finished unpacking and set his kit in the bathroom just down the hall before following his nose to the kitchen. “Man, that smells good.”
“Garlic, the food of the gods.” Clay whisked some melted butter, then brushed it onto some bread. Andrew’s stomach rumbled, and Clay handed him a piece. “I was going to toast them, but it sounds like you need something now.” Clay set the bread aside, pulled out some pork chops, and got them seasoned, which added more enticing aromas to the kitchen. Andrew ate the bread, grateful for something to tide him over.
“Do you like being a deputy?” Andrew needed something to talk about. He didn’t know much about Clay other than his job, and that he lived in a house, liked dogs, and could be stubborn.
“Yeah. Though not for the reasons I thought I would. I went into law enforcement to help people, and I do in a way by keeping them safe… I hope. But it isn’t what I thought it would be.” Clay shrugged. “I suppose nothing really is.” He put the pork chops in to broil and pulled out two bowls of salad from the refrigerator and some bottles of dressing. “Go ahead and sit down. It’ll just be a few minutes.” Clay finished dinner, getting the pork chops and the garlic bread together, then placing everything on the table.
“Is this how you cook all the time?”
“No,” Clay chuckled. “I’d probably heat something up for dinner, but I had company, so I wanted to make a nicer meal.” He ate slowly, and Petey took up residence under the table. “Look, I know you and I haven’t gotten along very well in the past.”
Andrew nodded. “We crack heads like football players.”
“Okay, there is that. But you need protection, and I have a job to do, so let’s get through this with as little drama as possible. I’m the expert on security, and you’re the expert in… judging… judgery?” Clay smiled. “Let’s leave it at that. Us being a pain to each other is only going to make protecting you more difficult.”
Andrew nodded. That sounded reasonable to him. “Agreed.” At least things weren’t quite as awkward as they had been before.
“Do you cook?” Clay asked.
“Yeah. My mother taught me. She is an amazing cook. Mom is Polish, so she made pierogi, and golumpki, and a potato salad with mixed vegetables. She made other things too.” Andrew turned his attention back to his plate.
“Russian salad?” Clay asked. “I know that’s probably not what your mother called it, but that’s what the potato salad sounds like. I’ve had it in a few restaurants. I love the stuff. Do you think I can get your mom’s recipe?”
Andrew took a bite of pork. If he was eating, then he had an excuse not to talk. “I can probably arrange that. Mom doesn’t cook as much as she used to anymore. With just her and Dad, it isn’t the same… so she says.”
“I see,” Clay said softly, and Andrew raised his gaze. The softness in Clay’s eyes wasn’t something he’d expected. In the past, the huge man had come off as immovable as a tree, so seeing his empathy was comforting.
“Does your mom cook? You said your aunt taught you.”
“Yeah. Mom’s sister. My mother is a menace in the kitchen. She thinks she can cook, but Lord, what comes out of her kitchen….” Clay shook his head. “Last Christmas she made a cake for dessert. I made the rest of the meal, but Mom insisted on making dessert.”
“What was wrong with it?” Andrew asked. “Did she burn it?”
“No. She made chocolate cake and thought it needed something different, so she added anchovy paste. Yes, you heard me right. Chocolate fish cake. And that hasn’t been the worst thing to come out of her kitchen.”
“Oh my God.” Andrew grimaced as he tried to imagine what that would taste like.
“Yeah. Mom will discover some new taste that she likes and use it in everything. She bought a jar of chili ginger sauce at an Asian market in Baltimore a few years ago and put the stuff in everything. At first it was various sauces that were really good, but then she added it to a peach pie and… oh my God.” Clay shuddered, and Andrew smiled. “She tends to go overboard. My dad tried to explain it to her, but she thinks of herself as a cook on the cutting edge of flavor.”
“She sounds like she’s on the cutting edge of something, all right,” Andrew said, and Clay grinned and nodded. “Okay, so you keep your mother away from the kitchen whenever possible.” He took another bite. “Your aunt certainly taught you how to cook well.”
“Yeah, she did. Aunt Connie figured that the only way I was going to survive in the long run was to learn how to cook, fast. Apparently Mom was a weird cook even when they were growing up.” Clay set down his fork. “Speaking of my family, I think there’s something you should know. My father’s sister, Marlene… Grange, is the mother of Harper Grange.”
Andrew nearly dropped his fork. “You’re kidding.” What the hell?
“Yeah. We don’t have much to do with that side of the family. Though my mother and aunt do talk… in a weird, bizarre, family sort of way.”
“Then you grew up with him,” Andrew said, wondering just how close Clay was to his cousin.
“Only peripherally. I saw him once or twice a year. Maybe at Christmas or at a family reunion. He was always a rather weird kid who saw things differently from anyone else.” Clay leaned forward. “It’s hard to explain, but Harper was always the kid who was jealous of what everyone else had. If he got what he wanted for Christmas but someone got something better, then he wasn’t happy. Which is fine, but Harper would take it, and the other kids would be upset. It got to the point that we never invited them anymore.”
“So even as a kid he was….” Andrew searched for the words and failed.
“He had no sense of right and wrong. None. I think he’s completely driven by what he wants. That’s part of the reason I agreed to this assignment when the sheriff called me. I think I might know him better than other people.” Clay sighed. “That’s also why I was so insistent and maybe snappy earlier. Harper would think nothing of taking you out as you crossed the street with dozens of people around… if that was what he wanted.”
Andrew nodded. Now things were clearer. “You’re saying that the consequences of his actions don’t matter to him. He doesn’t care about anything other than what he wants in that moment… and if in that moment, he wants to see me dead…?” Andrew swallowed hard, not needing to finish that thought.
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br /> “We’re going to make sure that his wants aren’t important,” Clay told him firmly. “His mother and the rest of his family spent their lives making excuses for him, and they let him do whatever he wanted just so he wouldn’t cause trouble. I see that now.” He finished his meal, and Andrew ate some more, but mostly his appetite was gone. “We’ll lie low here and keep you out of the limelight for a while—give the departments a chance to catch him and put him back where he belongs.”
Andrew nodded. “Is there any more word on the deputy who was hurt so badly?”
Clay shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. Smith is a good man with a family.”
Clay began clearing the dishes, and Andrew helped, rinsing them off as Clay loaded the dishwasher. Andrew’s phone rang as they finished, and he snatched it off the table.
“You think you can run away and I’m not going to find you.”
Andrew paled and turned to Clay, his hand shaking.
“Hide all you want. I will get what I want from you.” The call disconnected.
“Andrew,” Clay said as he guided him to a chair.
“That was him.” Andrew handed Clay the phone, and Clay paged through it.
“I have the number he called from.” Clay picked up his own phone, made a call, and explained what happened. “Run this number and see if you can get anything on it. … He’s safe. … Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” Clay spoke softly for a while, mostly listening before ending the call.
“They’re at my house,” Andrew said. “Watching it.”
Clay was all business. “We’re sending someone over, but they’re probably gone. They may have been driving past to check if anyone was home. It’s pretty clear that you aren’t there. We’ll talk to your neighbors and see if anyone noticed anything.”
“Can’t you trace the call?” Andrew asked.
“They’re doing what they can. This isn’t like on television where they always have computers that can miraculously triangulate a cell phone call and trace a number in seconds. In reality it takes time, and mostly it doesn’t really work.” Clay lightly patted him on the shoulder. “Think of it this way. He isn’t able to find you and he isn’t happy about that. He has your number so he’s calling to rattle you. Don’t let it happen.” Clay was so strong and sure of himself, and that alone helped Andrew feel safer. “Go on into the living room. I’ll finish up here. Just pick anything you want to watch on television.”