Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  “She called me from the hospital at six. She said she was going home to pack clothes for the kids before taking them to meet you. Then she called from home and said that she'd changed her mind and wanted to meet you alone."

  “As far as you know, the last place she went was the apartment?” He already knew what her answer would be. If there had been some sigh of a robbery, he wouldn't feel nearly as concerned that the perp would return. His gut feelings abruptly switched on high. If the perp had a specific purpose, and it wasn't Karen, if he learned he'd made a mistake, that he'd attacked the wrong person—

  He had to get to the apartment to see that Sue was okay.

  “Yes. Do you want me to call her there?” Kathleen said sounding dazed. “Do you want me to come and get you, or have Martha come?"

  “I rented wheels and I'm heading for the apartment, Kathleen,” Jacob told her gently, wanting to soothe away the tremble in her voice, wishing he could do the same for himself. Circumstances be damned—there was just no way in hell that he could bring himself to call that apartment Sue's home. “I want you to stay right where you are in case Sue calls you. I'll let you know when I find her.” He hesitated. “My cell phone is on, Kathleen, so if you hear from her call me."

  “Oh, Jacob, you need to call Abby, too. I called her about the mix-up and she said it was urgent that she talk to you."

  “I'll do it on my way, Kathleen. Thanks.” After touching End on the phone, he pocketed it, grabbed his suitcase and briefcase and headed for the rental lot to the left of the air terminal.

  * * * *

  Six blocks from his destination, Clinton located a huge shopping mall with a vast parking lot. He couldn't have felt happier. The place was perfect for what he needed. The cement lot looked like miles of yellow-striped patchwork. He decided that the few dozen cars left parked near the mall entrances probably belonged to employees.

  He parked his rental car on the outermost row, but left it running as he listened to the weather report. It had been raining and the wind blowing like the devil when he first started out. He had turned on the radio and heard there were tornado warnings for most of the areas surrounding Des Moines and West Des Moines. The clouds had looked like they were coming from hell, and not knowing exactly what to do he had returned to the motel. By eight the weather service had lifted the warnings, but the rain had let up only minutes ago as he made his way to West Des Moines. Now the weather eggheads were speculating on the storm dangers for the rest of the night. He cursed Keats and all his esteemed ancestors while switching off the radio and yanking the key from the ignition.

  He hated the damned rain. He looked through the window at the horizontal, corkscrew-shaped black clouds that seemed to be traveling faster than the cars on the highway beside the mall. He had never seen a tornado, and damned-well didn't want to see one now.

  Home was where he wanted to be. It was too bad Kimba hadn't persuaded Keats to send someone else; he certainly wished that she had the moment he'd stepped from the airplane last night. This wasn't his line of work. When he was an agent, he intimidated people by threatening them, taking their property, leaving them destitute. He didn't have to burglarize them by climbing through windows. Now all he had to do was organize buyers and give them their cut—

  Maybe he was selling himself short. Maybe this wasn't such a bad deal after all. Beating on that woman this morning had given him a powerful buzz. Given him a feeling of domination that he wouldn't mind feeling again.

  After taking the wig from his head and tossing it on the front seat, he shrugged into a dark-gray windbreaker and pulled an equally dark ski mask from its pocket. Leaving the car here was a good idea, he thought as he slammed the door, then hurried across the busy street that lay between him and the residential area he wanted. No one would pay a bit of attention to him when he returned for the car. He cursed when a passing car's tires shot him in the back with a heavy spray of filthy water, and again when he stepped in ankle-deep water near the curb.

  He developed his plan while cutting through someone's back yard and skirting a hedgerow with weird shadows that gave him the damned willies. When he had crawled through the window of the apartment this morning, he'd noticed a tennis racket leaning near a closet. He would whack her a few times with it and give her the warning to control her husband. The thought inspired him to walk faster.

  * * * *

  At nine-thirty Jacob drove up to the apartment garages and cut the engine of the roller-skate rental car. It irritated him that his hair brushed against the interior ceiling. A sardine would love this damn thing, he thought, while he lifted his left leg out the door. Once extricated from the vehicle, and deciding that whether or not he found her here, he would leave his stuff, he hauled his suitcase and briefcase from the tiny wedge obviously meant to be a back seat.

  Twice since he left the airport, he had tried her number and gotten no answer. He stepped over and peered through the garage window. The classic Chevy Sue always drove was in her space. She hadn't answered the phone, and the sight of the car didn't alleviate the uneasiness that twisted at his midsection. The feeling always came when something wasn't right, and he never ignored it. He hurried toward her front door; impatient to see her, impatient to make certain she was all right.

  Abby had just told him about the mess his house was in. A mess in California and a mess in Iowa could be a coincidence, but his gut didn't believe it for a minute.

  Who, if anyone, had he really pissed-off in the past couple of months? Could be the cop who confiscated cars in the mountains and made major kickback bucks from the tow company who sold the cars. The guy had covered his tracks well until he forced a young man and his family to drive to the highway and the tow company. The little-god-in-uniform stranded a super-nice guy; a guy Jacob admired, his pregnant wife and two small children in the hot sun, ten miles from home—and with a hefty tow bill for a car that no one ever towed.

  Jacob tempted the cop, using a borrowed compact car with a missing taillight. He'd hardly driven a mountain mile when the guy stopped him, then followed the same procedure by making him drive to the tow company.

  Shaking his head as he remembered, Jacob tucked the briefcase under his arm when he reached the door, then pressed the doorbell. In that tow yard, and before they could leave him stranded, he'd less than subtly let the cop and his tow-company partner know that someone was on to them. It pleased him to see both of them turn red, then pale, and in that order. The cop wanted to threaten him—Jacob saw it in his face. Jacob got a ticket for the taillight and sent on his way with the borrowed car. Via the Attorney General's office, his report should be sitting on a police captain's desk by now.

  He stopped pressing the doorbell and used the brass knocker instead. It could be that he was in for a bout of revenge. Then he remembered the news article in the paper a few weeks before—his report might merely have gone into the ATG's nearest wastebasket. Kick-back for the Big-guns, too, he thought, because suddenly there was legislation to expand certain police jurisdiction and license them to rip-off all the cars they wanted with the intention of selling them—on any charge, and Jacob knew how inventive they could be. Forget that, he decided. They'd never bother to reach eighteen hundred miles for revenge.

  If there was a connection between what happened to his home and what happened here, it would have taken someone time, and money—

  Then, of course, there was Robert Delaney. He'd definitely pissed-off at least one agent when he'd nosed around the Delaney's affairs. However, that investigation ended with Robert's suicide. He remembered his promise to Dottie—remembered why he'd brought the briefcase filled with his notes about Robert's problems. Well, maybe not ended, not totally anyway, since he had plans to begin where he'd left off when he got back home. Before he finished, he intended to know who, or what, had pushed his friend over the edge. He'd given his word to Dottie to investigate further, and she'd promised to be happy with his findings.

  For certain, when pissed-off, the agenc
y did have arms long enough to reach across country, and endless supplies of money—

  But, he couldn't imagine the entire agency being that interested in him. The agent with the data freedom couldn't possibly know how much information he'd gathered on property theft.

  When Sue didn't respond to his knock or the doorbell, Jacob set his two cases down and turned to look at the large statue of a lion that occupied most of the cement stoop near the door. The cream-colored lion appeared majestic; one paw raised high as if in greeting. Placing his hands on the extended paw, he rotated it counter-clockwise until he heard a slight click. With the slightest bit of pressure from his fingers, the paw slipped sideways on now visible hinges. He lifted the key from a small hook inside the paw, and then closed it.

  * * * *

  Even though he had more than half expected it, Clinton breathed out several foul expletives when he found the screen he'd removed from the bedroom window that morning neatly replaced. He took a small screwdriver from his windbreaker pocket, quietly popped the aluminum screen frame from its molding, and lifted it down. Once he had it leaning against the redbrick wall, it was nothing to slide the window open and hoist himself onto the window sill.

  He had no reason to believe anyone expected his return, and that excited him, quickened his pulse, made him eager to see the look of horror sure to contort the lovely lady's face. Come to think of it, this transcended anything he had ever done. Much better even than when he'd used intimidation to cower people as an agent.

  Though the room was pitch dark, a light illuminated the bottom of the door, and he could hear the laughing voices from a television set.

  Someone was home.

  It'll be her—and after what I did here this morning, he thought, she'll be on edge, but not expecting me. He figured she would be alone. If she wasn't, well he could take care of that, too. He yanked on and adjusted his ski mask, then switched on his pocket-sized flashlight, moving it around until the tiny beam exposed the tennis racket he was looking for.

  Silently, he walked around a twin bed and across the carpeted room to where he stopped and lifted the racket with his gloved hand. After shifting it and weighing its balance out of habit, he tightened his grip and crept to the door.

  This shouldn't take more than five minutes. The thought disappointed him. If things went really well, he would stretch it to ten.

  The power Clinton had felt that morning returned, overriding his nervousness as he turned the brass knob.

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  Chapter 6

  “Sue, are you in here?” Jacob called out. Hearing no answer, he elbowed the elaborately carved front door open all the way and entered the spacious foyer with his bags, then dropped them near the wall. Part of the living room was visible through the wide archway, and it didn't take him long to spot the unmoving curve of her body asleep in her chair. Even before he saw her, he caught the scent of her, felt her presence, the way it had always been ... things hadn't changed. She had some explaining to do. For starters, what the hell she was doing here.

  Anger and exasperation banded together in his mind as he closed the door. Anyone could walk in here and she wouldn't blink an eye. She shouldn't even be here, and definitely not alone. He walked toward her, but a slight scuffing sound coming from the direction of the bedrooms stopped him.

  First he saw the tennis racket and gloved hand coming around the corner, then the ski-masked head and the wide shoulders connected to a masculine-shaped torso. Though Jacob was too far away to see the color, he did see the eyes in the ski mask widen, then the dark figure, flinging the racket as if it were a hot poker, disappeared into the hallway.

  His reflexes taking over, Jacob dropped his briefcase and hurdled over the low, oblong coffee table that stood between him and Sue and the hall. He cursed as his foot became entangled in a lamp cord that trailed down the side of an end table, tripping him. After kicking himself loose, he scrambled to his feet and raced down the hall. He hadn't heard any door slam, so he opted for Michael's open bedroom door. Not wanting to give the prowler a moment to think, he drove straight into the room, but he, the furniture, and a curtain that was billowing in the window, were the rooms’ only occupants.

  “Cursed hip,” he muttered, trying to ignore the twinge of pain running down his leg from his eighteen-month-old wound as he climbed through the open window and dropped to the ground. When he had entered the apartment, the wind had been dead quiet. Now it wailed through the trees, thwarting his ability to hear which way the intruder could be running. Thinking he heard the rattle of a trashcan, he jogged to the garage at the side of the building. One of the cans wobbled back and forth on its side, and its lid rolled down the driveway like a runaway tire.

  The odor of wet, rich soil and cut grasses permeated the air. The wind-whipped dirt hitting his face forced him to protect his eyes and kept him from seeing any movement in any direction. Suddenly the black sky released a mixture of marble and Ping-Pong-ball sized hail with a velocity that had him yelping as he sprinted around to the front of the building. The hail immediately changed to rain, drenching him to the skin before he reached the first step. A bolt of lightning seemed to ignite the universe, and a deep-throated, ear-shattering clap of thunder followed almost without a moment's delay.

  He burst into the foyer and stood, dripping on the slate tiles and glancing around for Sue, who was now nowhere in sight. “Amanda Sue, where the hell are you?"

  “Coming,” she yelled, from somewhere down the hallway.

  She came around the corner; her ash-blond hair tousled, coming loose from its French braid at the back of her head, her chocolate-brown eyes wide. She's so beautiful, he thought. So beautiful.

  Sue started across the room. “What happened, Jacob? Why did you climb out the window?"

  Gesturing at her to stop, he said, “Grab me a towel from that bathroom, and I'll tell you.” While unbuttoning his shirt, he watched her retrace her steps and disappear into the bathroom. By the time he undid the last button, she was standing before him holding out a bath blanket and a regular-sized towel. His instinct told him to reach out and pull her into his arms, then touch every inch of her, but he didn't.

  “You might as well strip and let me put your clothes in the dryer,” she said, not at all thrilled with making the suggestion. Though his image was a constant in her mind, she hadn't seen him physically for nearly six months'. The thought of seeing him in the buff after over a year was bringing a heat to her cheeks she'd rather he didn't see. As the same heat filtered to other parts of her body, she turned her face away from him, but it didn't stop her from hearing and identifying each article of clothing as he stripped it off.

  “All finished,” he said, handing her his shirt, briefs, socks, and pants. He draped the huge towel around himself, then flopped the shorter one across his shoulders. His Babe had turned her face away from him and it hurt. Though he thought he understood her reaction, he found it irritated him no end. He couldn't conceal the displeasure in his tone as he sharply added to her retreating figure, “And call your parents so they can stop worrying. Kathleen knows you didn't meet me at the airport.” Taking the loose ends of his neck towel, he swiped the water from his hair. A year and a half ago he wouldn't have undressed in the hall, and they would have been sharing a hot shower by now. That wasn't the only hot thing they would have shared. Jacob wanted it all back, and he wanted it soon. After a few moments he followed after Sue, hesitating at the kitchen entrance, then advancing on her.

  The dryer in the alcove near the back door already tumbled noisily, and Sue was turning the coffeepot on while talking on a cordless phone when he reached her.

  She opened a cupboard and removed two mugs. “We'll see you in a while then, Mom.” Pushing a button, she placed the phone on the table.

  Avoiding eye contact, she looked at Jacob. “I didn't tell her about what just happened. Mom and Dad won't get any sleep tonight if we tell them.” She brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I don't kn
ow what happened."

  “About your parents, I agree. It can wait until morning.” Again he watched her mentally retreat from him as she took napkins from a basket on the counter. Along with the cutting frustration of her withdrawing behavior, the better than sixteen hours of stress finally became too much for Jacob. Forgetting the towel, Jacob reached out, turned her around and brought her against his chest by wrapping his arms around her. He easily ignored her stiffened resistance. He wanted to say something, but could think of nothing. His Babe was not battered and bleeding. He needed to hold her and determine for himself that it wasn't just a bad dream. And, oh god, how beautiful her body felt against his, where it belonged—had always belonged.

  It suddenly dawned on her that Jacob didn't really seem all that surprised in his attitude about the intruder. “You know about Karen?” she murmured into his shoulder towel, trying to avoid touching his warm, seductively strong neck. A place she longed to nestle into. “You already know what's happened here today?” Sue felt a tremor go through him and relaxed against his broad chest.

  A grave error. Familiar sensations, his heady scent, his racing heartbeat, the feel of his large hands on her back, were all ganging up on her, bringing forward the emotions she had worked months to discourage her mind and body from remembering. She wasn't ready. She just wasn't ready. Her body called her a liar, but it wasn't her body that needed time. When she lived with Jacob again, she would know for certain she couldn't fail him, ever.

  Realizing that his emotions were also wound tight, and his hard body signaling arousal, she stirred uncomfortably. Sue didn't want to deal with an aroused Jacob; let alone herself. Gently, and annoyed with herself for wanting to stay where she was, she pulled away, trembling, and dared a looked into his eyes. Steam, that was the best term for what she saw in their dark-blue depths.

  “I only know what your mom told me when I called from the airport. Your not being there to meet me was the heart stopper."