Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  Jacob sipped the hot brew, and then shook his head. “They found nothing that gave them grounds to initiate an investigation. Tim and I decided to have a look-see.” He shifted his back toward the side window so he could see her better in the dim lighting. “Robert had financial problems because an agent for our country's beloved taxing agency was ripping him off. The same agent harassed him no less than once a week. Pretty much, everyone thinks the stress caused him to kill himself, but it contradicts how ticked-off Robert was the last time I saw him. I had proof of their errors, but the agent I talked with ignored my presentation.” He laughed without humor. “Then I had the honor of being audited."

  “Scare tactics?” she asked. She talked with people who'd gotten the same treatment.

  He ate the last of his hamburger. “No doubt about it.” He shrugged. “But, it gave me the opportunity to meet the parasite hounding Robert and Dottie.” Jacob stuffed the leftovers from their snacks into a paper sack. “If there's a way to touch this excuse-for-humanity, I'm going to find it.” As he saw it, the agency was the cause of Robert's death. If they kept track of their conglomerate, the innocent wouldn't become victims. He felt pretty sure who the thief was. With a little more time, a little more proof, he intended to give him some heat. If it became necessary to wait until some day when the guy made a mistake as a civilian, so be it, because he would be there.

  Sue wanted to touch him; make him decide to leave the aggressive agency alone. “People have gotten hurt messing with them, J.T. Even slammed in jail like political prisoners, and only because they questioned their rights.” She handed him her empty coffee cup. “I don't suppose you could just leave it alone?” Before she had said the words, she knew what his answer would be.

  He opened the car door and stepped out. “Now, you shouldn't talk like that, Babe. You know it's illegal to have political prisoners in America.” He closed the door and leaned down to the window. “Your mom and dad are probably chewing their fingernails by now. Let's get going?"

  With the gleam in his eyes and his slight note of sarcasm, he was reminding her that treasonous, conniving activity were simply part of an ordinary working day for the governmental society. The headlines proved it each and every day.

  Glancing at the car in the mall lot, Sue turned the key in the ignition. Jacob had appeared to forget why they had stayed to watch, but he had never really taken his attention from that car. As she drove away from the restaurant, she thought she saw movement near a tree in a yard across the four-lane road that fronted the mall, and then decided it was only the wind.

  Two hours with Jacob, and now she was on a stakeout observing, analyzing, feeling suspicious, and to her horror, loving it. But his scrutinizing always led to anxieties she couldn't handle. Like Karen being attacked ... like Jacob being shot ... like her failure to be in control of a damned thing when the chips were down.

  * * * *

  The Borgson's lived in a three-story brick home four blocks north of Grand Avenue on Elmhurst. An area of stately mansions built in a by-gone era, but nonetheless impressive. Actually, as he thought about it, it seemed that the buildings positively bloomed, improving with age.

  When Jacob pulled onto the well-lit circular drive, he saw Michael and Andee sitting on the wide front steps. Sue kept going, disappearing behind the house to park near the garages, but Jacob stayed on the front drive and parked beside the ramp built for her father's wheelchair.

  He barely had his feet on solid ground when Andee flew into his arms. “Oh, Dad, I'm so glad to see you,” Andee cried. “Are you going to stay here at Grandma and Grandpa's?"

  “Negative,” he answered, hugging her and watching his son's slow approach. “I'm going to stay at the apartment."

  Michael held out his hand and Jacob gave him a handshake, firm, defending, and designed to let him know that Jacob was there for him. “Good to see you, Dad.”

  “Why can't you stay here?” Andee asked, releasing her hold around his waist. “We want to be with you."

  “You know why I can't stay here, sweetheart. But don't worry, I'll be with you as much as possible.” His words didn't do much for the glum look she was giving him. He chucked her under the chin. “Come on now, give me a smile. You never know how this will all work out."

  He turned to Michael. At nearly ten, he was already over five-feet tall. But he was hanging back, looking withdrawn—something he had never done before. Handshakes weren't enough. “Too big to hug your old dad, huh?”

  Though Michael's young mouth tilted in a smile as he moved into Jacob's arms, it didn't squelch Jacob's concern. “No, Dad. You said no one ever gets that big."

  “Good boy,” Jacob whispered, knowing that was a phrase Sue said to the kids often. “We all need each other."

  “I know,” Michael whispered back. “Gonna work on Mom this trip?"

  “Shh, she might hear you. But I think you're right, this is the time.” Jacob wished he felt more confident about the idea. But somehow he had backed someone into a corner, and that someone stalked his family. He needed them where he could protect them until he discovered who and why. Moving his Amanda Sue, his Babe, wouldn't be easy. Her feet were planted. He could imagine skid marks all the way to California.

  “We'll help,” Andee said while looking toward the house to make certain her mother wasn't near. “How can we help?"

  He reached out and brushed a wisp of her ash-blond from her forehead, enjoying the twinkle in her chocolate-brown eyes ... eyes so like her mother's. “By giving us some space, sweetheart. By letting us have a little time alone. I realize it won't be easy having the patience and all."

  He studied Michael a moment, wishing he could remember more about being ten. “I can promise that I'll give it my best shot."

  “You've got it,” they replied in unison as they raised their hands for a high-five with Jacob.

  “You've got what?” Sue asked as she came around the corner of the house.

  Jacob winked at them. “I promised to take them out for dessert tomorrow night if they didn't make a mess for their grandmother while they're here."

  “Jacob,” Kathleen called from the front door. “Come in, come in."

  A soft whir announced Raymond's wheelchair as it drew up and stopped beside her. “Yes, all of you get in here and tell us what's going on,” he said. “We've waited long enough."

  * * * *

  Showered, ready for bed, and tired from all the nervous energy he'd exerted throughout the day, Mike pulled back the covers from the bed he always used when staying with his grandparents. He loved them, for sure—they were always cool. But he wanted his parents together—he wanted his family acting like a family. He remembered the dream about instant aging he'd had the night before. They were going to make him gray-haired before he was ten years old, that's what they were going to do. He ran into the bathroom across the hall to look in the mirror, making sure the process hadn't already begun. After searching through his dark hair and finding no silver, he sighed with relief and opened the door. He hoped the dream didn't reoccur just because he'd thought about it.

  Andee leaned against the bedroom doorframe. “I'm tired,” he said, passing her and walking to the bed.

  “Me, too,” Andee answered, yawning. “But, we've got to talk a minute.”

  Mike sat down on the bed, half on the blue-silk sheets, half on the downy bedspread. “What's to talk about?"

  After stepping inside, Andee closed the door. “How we can help Dad, of course,” she whispered.

  “Dad doesn't want help.” Shaking his head, Mike plumped up his silk-encased pillow. “Just don't pull one of your getting sick ideas again, okay? They haven't worked yet, and they ain't goin’ to.” The last time she'd had Mom believing she had pneumonia and ready to call Dad, but the doctor didn't fall for it. One time she'd used a red pen to put dots all over her body. Geez, was Mom ever mad.

  “I haven't done that for over a year. I'm long past the juvenile stuff, Moron,” she said her chin rising. �
�Let's get serious."

  He would keep the name-calling simple. He was too darned tired to get creative. “All right, Ms. Dumber,” he said, wishing she would go away. “Why don't we get Dad alone longer so we can ask him? He didn't have time to say much, but he's gonna work on Mom."

  Andee nodded. “But if he's not getting anywhere, then we think up our own plans, right?"

  Mike smiled. “Agreed. If Dad looks stuck or losing, I say we try more dynamite moves. Something that gets their attention—or else."

  Andee opened the door. “You got it, Bro. Good night."

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, slipping under the covers. When Mom told Dad about what's happened at school, dynamite might be a mild explosion compared to his dad's reaction. He wished he knew. He'd never made his dad mad before, so he didn't know what to expect, really. His teacher had said to put themselves in their parents shoes once in a while.

  Mike could barely fathom how he himself would react if he had a kid doing similar things. He closed his eyes. That wouldn't be good. Not good at all.

  * * * *

  Jacob didn't stay long. After seeing the kids off to bed, and watching and waiting as patiently as she could while Jacob finished a quick beer with her father, Sue walked with him to his car. “The kids probably won't sleep because of all the excitement,” she said. “I'm not going to have an easy time of it either.” It wouldn't just be Karen's disaster that would keep her awake. The natural musky scent that was J.T., had always driven her crazy, and she'd had it surrounding her in her apartment, in her car, and right now standing beside him.

  Nodding, Jacob leaned against the passenger door. “We have to talk, Babe."

  She stopped and leaned against the car beside him. “I know, J.T., but it's too late.” His blue eyes seemed to penetrate her skin, while he paled visibly under his rich tan. She touched his arm. “I meant that it's too late to discuss anything tonight, not that we couldn't talk."

  Taking her hand in his, he said, “You had me scared for a minute.” His Adrenaline had shifted to overdrive. He might have been tired a moment ago, but now he was wide awake.

  The idea that they could never again communicate scared her, too. What if she had been the one in that apartment this morning? And how much would she have missed if she'd died today? That seemed too unbearable to think about. “I'm sorry. It's been a rough day for both of us.” She'd hopelessly considered the same what ifs the day Jacob lay bleeding on the living room steps—and she didn't help him.

  “Yeah, too rough."

  “Why don't you divorce me and marry someone like Carley Tibbs? I think—"

  “Hold it,” he interrupted. “Why would I even consider such a move?” Sue had never used the word divorce before, and he didn't like it. He had a nervous feeling that this trip would turn out to be the now-or-never he had dreaded for the past two years.

  “Carley and you have loads in common. She loves what you do and all the explosions that go with it.” Sue hesitated, working to control the shakiness in her voice, her hands, her knees. “It doesn't matter how much I'd like to fit the bill, I just can't do it. It's not fair to you, J.T.” Carley, so cute, so young, so darned psychic it was scary.

  Jacob opened her hand, one finger at a time, and then gently touched the lines in her palm. “Let's see now. Carley is a great secretary, and she's going to make a fine P.I. It is strictly my own opinion from observation that Carley lives for Carley, and believes only in Carley. She has no desire to become a part of another person. She has no desire to share herself with children or anyone else. I asked her once about her love life. She said, ‘Use ’em and lose ’em is my motto. Men are completely perfect when there's a ring in their nose.’ Carley believes that moral value and commitment have no business existing in life's cycle because they are myths. And family is all right, if it never interferes with a show of concern.” He closed Sue's hand, but didn't let go. “Now, tell me again, what is it we have in common?"

  Sue pulled her hand from his grasp, ignoring the slightly hurt tone of his voice, and considering only his words. “You certainly know a lot about Carley.” She hadn't meant to sound contradictory, but she couldn't help it. Before she realized what was happening, Jacob pushed away from the car, his hand came under her chin, and his lips were touching hers. The kiss was not passionate; it was soft, slow, and ever so mesmerizing.

  Jacob stepped back and dug the car keys from his pants pocket. “It's getting late, Babe,” he said huskily. “How bout we discuss this over breakfast in the morning?"

  Sue clasped her hands together to keep her fingers from touching her mouth, and disregarded the weak sensations in her knees, the thundering beat of her heart. If she told him that she didn't want to discuss it, they would have an argument. She felt too weary to argue. She cleared her throat. “What time?"

  He walked to the driver's side and opened the car door. “We need to visit Karen together, so six would give us some time."

  * * * *

  After walking her parents to their bedroom door and saying good night, Sue entered the guest bathroom and began filling the large tub with water. She added scented bath oil, and then stepped in.

  As she leaned back, the silky water caressed her belly, her breasts. When she closed her eyes, it became Jacob's hands touching her skin, arousing her nipples to hardened peaks, making her feel empty and wanting him there to fill her, bring her to the euphoric climax he could manage so well. She sat up immediately, destroying the mental pictures.

  Instead of reaching for the bath sponge she wanted, she touched her lips. If he hadn't kissed her, she would be fine. However, he had, and she wasn't.

  She wasn't the only one who wasn't all right. Each day she reminded herself that every move she made affected four people. Grabbing the sponge and running it down her arms, she remembered the way the kids had reacted when he'd said good night to them. They'd pretended it was a normal evening, she could see it in their faces. But she also saw the tears shining in Andee's eyes, though they didn't slide down her cheeks.

  It had taken her a while to read the look in Michael's. He was wondering if she'd had time to discuss his behavior with Jacob, but was afraid to ask. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Michael didn't trust her. She'd promised him that she would warn him when she would discuss it with Jacob.

  She pulled the plug, stepped from the tub, and wrapped a bath blanket around herself. Her image in the steamed mirror was nearly nonexistent. Was that really her? Had she become a mere shadow? She touched her lips again. No, she was still the Amanda Sue Campbell who desired Jacob. Tears gathered in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Time was running out, she could feel it. If she died tomorrow, would he know how much she loved him? Would the kids know how much she loved them? She prayed that they would.

  Somehow, and soon, she had to come to terms with her life. Her children suffered from the miles between them and their dad. Sue hated each and every one of those miles as much as they did. She knew the visits they made would never be enough for them, knew they were running out of courage.

  Sue brushed away the guilty feelings as she dressed for bed. She was doing her best, working on her shortcomings every day. God willing, she'd conquer them.

  * * * *

  When he drove past the mall, Jacob was thinking about Sue's words, the taste of her, and his arousal. He loved Carley like a sister, respected her as a partner. He could probably use her psychic abilities right now—she wasn't perfect, but ninety percent of the time what she saw helped them solve client's problems. But Sue's words about him and Carley being more compatible didn't make sense.

  A car pulled out in front of him, and he recognized it and the license plate. At first he thought the driver was a female because of the outline of curly hair, and then changed his mind. Not many women looked comfortable hunched to the side with their elbow protruding from the window.

  Slowing down, he dropped back, deciding to follow the car. When it pulled in at the motel across from the airport, Jacob turned into
the gas station next door. He stopped at the full-service pump. “Fill it up,” Jacob told the station attendant as he stepped from the car and stood where he had a clear view of the motel. He had made it in time to watch the man climb the brightly lit outside staircase and enter the room with the numbers one twenty-four.

  Figuring that he had wasted time following the guy, he paid his bill and drove back toward West Des Moines. The man he chased through the apartment could not have had that much hair. Even mashed down, there would have been some lumps in the ski mask. Yet, something about the guy's walk and build seemed vaguely familiar.

  Balancing a small note pad on his knee, Jacob jotted down the date, name of the motel, and room number. If he had time tomorrow, he would try and get the guy's name.

  Just to keep my notes straight, he thought. It had always paid off when he kept his notes straight. When he got to the apartment, he would add the information to the license number and rental company.

  He sighed.

  When he laid down in that apartment, he would remember how soft, warm, and right Sue had felt against him.

  Her scent would be everywhere, and he was a glutton for punishment.

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  Chapter 8

  At four in the morning Sunday the incessant ringing of Abby's phone awakened her. She knocked the phone onto the bed in her haste to grab it. “Hello,” she mumbled incoherently, blinking her eyes, struggling to arouse her senses. The soft pastels in her bedroom seemed non-existent in the pale glow of the nite-light.

  “Abby, I'm sorry to be calling you at this hour. But, it's happened again."

  “Tim? Is that you?” She pulled her toes out from under Spike, who raised his head off the bedspread long enough to blink his golden eyes at her.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Someone vandalized Jacob's house again, less than an hour ago.” He took a deep breath. “This time they trashed the garage and the third level."