One Wild Weekend with Connor

by Lexi Hart

  I nod vaguely, hoping she’ll take the hint and go back to her desk. I’m not in the mood to explain why I look like crap and why I’m behaving like a maniac.

  My computer is so slow loading; I smack it. “Come on!”

  “Wow. Um, do you want to use mine?”

  The words are barely out of her mouth before I’m nodding and skirting her chair so I can use her login.

  I drop to my knees and start searching for Connor’s name. My knees are aching when I find dozens of entries, but none of them are the right Connor, and Jenny’s voice intrudes on my desperate search. “Connor Slade. Hmm, that’s probably a really common name.” Jenny’s intrusion makes me jump. I glare at her as she bites into an apple and crunches in my ear as she leans forward. “What are you looking for?”

  I scowl at the screen and at her reflection. “Um. I heard something on the radio. I wanted to hear the whole item or find an online news site so I can hear the full story.”

  Jenny’s eyes pop wider. “Ooh, is this about the escaped criminal that was in the area? I heard he turned himself in.”

  I spin around and groan as I ease myself up. “Where did you hear that? What station?”

  I must sound as panicked as I feel because she stops chewing and looks over my shoulder like she’s planning on running. “I don’t remember, sorry. But they reported it this morning so it must have been the station we listen to here?”

  She sounds so unsure I want to shake her. I take a breath and try to sound as non-threatening as I can under the circumstances. “You’re sure you heard it in the office?”

  Her nod is so vague I can feel my fists clenching at my sides. I have nothing else to go on, so I spin on my heels and plonk myself in my chair and type in the radio station and hope they have transcripts or keep a record of broadcasts. I ignore Jenny’s questions, my phone ringing, and the dozen emails waiting for me until I find an article that nearly makes my heart stop.

  Connor’s mug shot is beside the photo of a middle-aged man I vaguely recall seeing when he purchased a piece of land on the coast. I scroll down, heart thumping erratically against my ribcage as I try to read.

  Sanctuary Scandal

  Local businessman and owner of Sanctuary Cove’s premium resort, Walter Hoskins, has been arrested after multiple witnesses saw him shoot Connor Slade, a drifter who was working on Mr. Hoskins’s private vessel as a deckhand.

  According to witness statements, Slade was caught in ‘flagrante delicto’ with the defendant’s wife.

  Hoskins is accused of, quote, ‘flying to into a rage and shooting the blanking son of a blank in the chest’ end quote, according to his wife, Clara Hoskins.

  Slade disappeared shortly after the incident and is currently wanted by law enforcement for the lesser charge of violation of parole.

  A search is in full effect, and local law enforcement are willing to waiver pending charges in exchange for Connor Slade’s testimony. Police are calling on citizens to be vigilant and to not approach Slade, but to alert them immediately—

  I stare at the screen, forgetting to blink. Connecting everything that happened over the weekend, analyzing every move he made, everything he did. Everything he said. I sit unmoving, oblivious to the activity going on around me until numbness creeps like cool awareness at the horrible mistake I’d made.

  Worse than knowing I falsely condemned him is knowing that I let him walk away when he could have stayed. I slowly push away from my desk, mutely pick up my keys, and walk out of the office.

  This time I do talk to the receptionist. “I’m taking a sick day,” I mutter as I push out the doors.

  Chapter 9.

  Connor

  I know I’m in for it when Eric is waiting, arms folded across his massive chest, leaning against the fence. “You’re late.”

  I shrug. “Yeah. Well, I got shot. Kind of slowed me down.”

  He doesn’t shift, blocking my entry. I narrow my eyes as he looks me up and down. “What the hell are you wearing? You look like a preppy fag.”

  I smirk at him. “You have my stuff?”

  He jerks his thumb behind him. “Boss has it.”

  I step into the garage, the stench of gas and sweat churning up unpleasant memories as I look around. A car is up on a hoist, and a couple guys are working on switching out the license plates. I ignore them and walk to the back where O’Reily is sitting, eyeballing me as he smokes a cigarette, flouting every rule any legitimate garage wouldn’t dare to.

  He takes a long drag and hacks out a wet cough, making me appreciate quitting a couple years back. “You’re all over the news. What part of keeping this job quiet was unclear to you?” He sits on the edge of his desk, my duffel bag, with every sorry item I own, sitting there, like a carrot he’s dangling.

  “Hoskins’ flew off the handle. I ended up with a bullet for the trouble.”

  O’Reily sniffs, less than impressed. “She gave you everything?”

  I work my jaw as I nod, my eyes flicking to my bag. I need to get out of here, report back to my parole officer, and try to explain how I am innocent in all this. Even if that’s not entirely true. “She did.”

  His throat rattles as he pulls at the skin of his scrawny neck, making me want to throw up. I put my foot up on his desk and unlace my boot, and twist so I can yank it off my foot. I leave the boot and its accompanying sand in my lap while I open my bag and rummage inside until I find my pocket knife I’m not allowed to carry. O’Reily’s eyes are narrow slits as he watches me cut into the leather just above the steel cap. I throw the knife back inside my bag and rip the leather until a crushed velvet bag is visible.

  O’Reily leans closer so I can smell mustard on his sour breath. His breathing is increasing as I dump the contents into my palm. Three platinum rings with golf ball size diamonds, and a gaudy tennis bracelet that sparkles even in the fluorescent lighting.

  O’Reily starts to chuckle as he picks up the bracelet and uses a hand lens to look closer. “It’ll be a few months before you get your cut. Would have been sooner if you hadn’t gotten caught with your pants down.” O’Reily doesn’t take his eyes off me as I pull my boot on and lace it again. I use the glue in my bag and press it down so it looks passable until I can get a new pair. I’m about to walk away when I feel his bony fingers digging into my arm. I spin around and wait for his cronies to jump me. I can’t see anyone lurking, but all my muscles tense in preparation. O’Reily’s lips twist into a half smile, half sneer. “You sure you didn’t take anything additional?”

  He gestures to my other boot. My heart starts to slam in my chest, but I keep my tone light. “Sure, right after I screwed his wife and took a bullet, I had just enough time to grab a couple extra things and glue up my boots before I dived off the boat.”

  He stares at me long enough for my nerves to crank even higher. My shoulder blades start to itch in preparation for a knife from behind.

  His lips twitch into a smirk then he slaps me on the shoulder hard enough for sharp pain to resound down my chest. I flinch and rub at the spot. ‘Easy.”

  O’Reily chuckles, a hacking wheeze that echoes around the garage. “Stay in touch.”

  I nod and start to walk away; every muscle clenched until I walk past the grinning moron standing guard.

  “See you around, faggot,” he calls.

  I do the finger as I walk away. I cross the street and start heading towards the office where my parole officer will be tearing her hair out. I’m not dumb enough to try walking around for long with a warrant out on me, so I take a seat at the first bench seat I see and unzip my bag to find my cell phone. I have a bunch of messages waiting for me, six of which are from my parole officer.

  I frown at the additional message, scratching my head at the number I don’t recognize until Evelyn’s picture comes up and I nearly drop my phone. I chuckle low and give myself a little time to admire her curves and tangled blonde hair. Her mouth is open; full lips parted like she’s about to say something. Since I need all the
blood running to my brain, I stop thinking about what I’d like her to do with her mouth and dial my parole officer, Tessa.

  She picks up immediately. “Connor? You better be calling from the grave, because I will find you and kill you myself.”

  I smile as I picture Tessa’s charcoal skin and untameable hair. “I got shot. I was unconscious for some of the time. I was stuck in a place called Sanctuary Cove. There wasn’t any reception.”

  Silence greets me. “You expect me to buy that, Connor?”

  My laugh cuts her off. “Just call the dogs off, okay? I just need to grab a change of clothes. I can be at the office in thirty minutes.”

  “Hmm. You took a job without telling me. That’s not ideal, Connor. You’re in breach of parole.”

  I zip my bag and start walking as I keep talking to her. “You know me. Trouble follows me wherever I go.”

  “Oh, give me a break. Women follow you where you go. Where were you staying? I’ll need to contact whoever assisted you to verify all this. Your lawyer will tell you the same. The parole board isn’t going to just roll over for this. You’ll need a credible witness.”

  The thought stops me cold. “She’s been through enough. I’d rather leave her out of it.”

  Tessa clucks her tongue. “What’s this? A woman that you don’t want to involve? Let me guess: she’s a kindly old spinster who lives with a dozen cats? What’d she do? Bake you cookies, tuck you into bed?”

  My lips tug upwards as I hold in a laugh at how close she is to the truth. “Something like that.”

  Tessa sighs heavily down the phone. “Just get here.”

  The line goes dead. I’m pretty sure she’ll get over it, and I’m pretty sure that my bullet wound will corroborate what the police would have already pieced together. I’m not in the clear yet, but dragging Evelyn’s good name through the mud just to prove I was where I said I was is low even for me.

  I tap out a text to my lawyer and pick up my pace and head inside a mall. I grab boots and clothes and carry them to the counter. The assistant is huffy when she stuffs everything into a bag and has to count out all the dollar bills I’ve handed her from my scuffed wallet. I’m used to people looking down their noses at me, so I let her disdain wash off me and head straight for the closest restroom.

  I shut the door, lock it, and close the toilet seat, so I can yank off my boots and Mr. Perfect Scott’s clothes and shove them inside my bag. I shoot a quick glance at the top of the stalls in case anyone happens to be looking and pull out my knife again. I’m sweating by the time I leave the cubicle, hungry and thirsty as I dump my boots inside the trash, throw my bag over my shoulder, and grab a burger to eat on the street while I detour to the post office.

  I make it to the parole office just in time as my lawyer, Travis is rocking up in his BMW. He rushes towards me from his illegal park in a handicap zone with a death grip on his cell. “You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch you know that?”

  I cock my head at him and shove my hands into my pockets. “I got shot. I nearly drowned. What’s lucky about that?”

  He gestures to the door, and I push it open, still wondering how he thinks I’m lucky when Tessa appears looking as furious as I’d expect her to be. Tessa opens the door to her office and offers me a chair, pointedly ignoring Travis as we all take a seat.

  Travis pulls out his phone. “Okay. So, they’re willing to overlook your parole violation in exchange for your signed statement. Clara Hoskins is making you come across as a saint.”

  Tessa snorts. “She’ll change her tune. Love em and leave em, that’s more your style, isn’t it, Connor?”

  I laugh along with her, even though my laugh sounds brittle. Travis leans back in his chair and looks decidedly smug. “Given your only real crime was not contacting your parole officer, and since the cell coverage is patchy, and there was a legitimate reason for your lack of contact, this should go well. Of course, it would be prudent to have verification—”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to involve Evelyn in this if we don’t need to.”

  Tessa taps away on her computer and eyes me with the slightest of smiles on her face. “This kind old woman who took you in and nursed you back to health...”

  I swallow hard as she leaves the sentence hanging in the air. Her smile turns into a smirk as she taps away and Travis sends me a questioning look. “What about her?”

  Tessa taps away again and scrunches up her face. “She lives on the beach?”

  I sit back a little in my chair and scratch my nose. “Yeah.” She leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.

  Travis seems to be squirming in his chair. “Is there an issue with the witness? Connor, if we need to verify your story further—”

  Tessa blows out a long sigh. “Oh, keep your panties on Travis. The woman isn’t fictional; she’s just the only resident mad enough to stay in her beach house during a storm. The rest of Sanctuary Cove was locked up tight.” I open my mouth to ask how she knows so much about Evelyn when she turns her screen around so I can see an aerial shot of the coastline. Tessa zooms in to the beach and shifts the view, so Evelyn’s deck is clearly visible. “Satellites are a truly glorious thing, my dear Connor.” She jabs a finger at Travis, who’s looking decidedly sheepish. “You owe me for this.” Her eyes narrow as she sends a ‘don’t mess with me look’ in my direction. “You done lying to me, Connor?”

  I raise my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay. So, she wasn’t an old woman with a bunch of cats.”

  Tessa raises an eyebrow. “Well, I know that already, you dolt. I’m looking at her driver’s license picture. What I want to know is, what are you going to do about her?”

  I try to look confused, but she narrows her eyes further while Travis shakes his head and pulls a camera out of his pocket. “As long as she’s credible, I don’t care what she looks like. I need to get some photos of your injury.”

  Tessa is still eyeballing me, trying to get me to spill my guts when there’s a knock at the door and a young Asian dude pushes his head through the door. “I’m Doctor Chang. I’m here to examine you.”

  I release a sigh as Tess grins at me like she’s just heard the world’s greatest joke and she’s just dying to retell it. I keep quiet as she slowly rises from her chair. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She closes the door with another less than subtle look and promises to be back with my sign-in sheet in five minutes.

  The young doctor snaps on a pair of latex gloves, and I shift my shirt to one side so he can peel back the bandage Evelyn helped me apply. Travis snaps a couple pictures while the doctor prods the tissue around the entry wound, making me tense and let out multiple cuss words I doubt he’s even old enough to have heard before.

  “There is enough damage to suggest a gunshot. Perhaps a 22 caliber. But where is the bullet, Mr. Slade?”

  I grin at him. “It deflected off of something.”

  Both Travis and the doctor raise their eyebrows. “What kind of something?” the doctor asks.

  I shrug. “Does that matter?”

  The doctor exchanges a glance with Travis. “Don’t say another word or you’ll implicate yourself. Thank you, Doctor, I’ll send the photos through immediately. If I could just get your signature?”

  The doctor pulls another bandage out and hastily plants it on me like he’s suddenly in a rush to be somewhere. He yanks off his gloves and scrawls on the tablet Travis produced from his briefcase. He packs up and looks me over one more time. “Two inches to the left and you’d be dead. Perhaps you should buy a lottery ticket?

  He smiles and somehow manages to look even younger as I give him a returning smile. “Yeah. Maybe I will.” And if I had two cents to rub together, I would. But I’m down to my last hundred bucks. I need to find some legitimate work. And fast.

  The doctor exits with a reminder to get the wound seen to as Tessa comes in again with a coffee in her hand. Travis looks set to leave when he asks me the one question I hate the most. “You’r
e still at the halfway house?”

  I scowl at him. “Unfortunately.”

  He grabs his suitcase and looks at his watch. “Yes, well, I’ll put that address down on the police report for now.”

  Tessa growls at him. “You done? I have some paperwork for Connor to sign before I can release him.”

  Travis makes a hasty retreat as he frowns at me. “Try to stay out of trouble.” He closes the door obviously not expecting an answer, which is just as well since I’m not in the mood to take advice.

  I sigh and swing my gaze back to Tessa, who’s smirking at me. “Are you going to tell me to stay out of trouble too?”

  She only smirks harder and pushes my sign-in sheet towards me. “Nope. I’m going to tell you to go find the right kind of trouble.”

  I scribble my name on the paper then wait until she witnesses it. “And what is the right kind of trouble?”

  Tessa giggles. “Oh, you know. The five foot eight, blonde bombshell, kind of trouble.”

  I huff a breath. “Why are you so interested? She could be a crazy stalker who locked me up for three days and did unspeakable things to me.”

  She laughs so hard she snorts her coffee. “You’ve checked in with me. Are you going to see her again?”

  I ease back in my chair and cross my ankles. “You make it sound so easy.”

  Tessa raises an eyebrow. “Many things are complicated, Connor Slade, love is not one of them.”

  I frown as hard as I can. “Who said anything about love?”

  She leans forward like she’s about the share a secret with me. “I can tell when you’re lying. I have three kids, and I work with professional liars. So don’t think I can’t see that you care about this woman.”

  I don’t even try to deny it. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I shrug. “Yeah. I’m pretty into her.”

  Tessa rolls her eyes. “How you bang so many women is beyond me. Aside from well, abs of steel, and your face.” She sips her coffee and eyes me. “I’d like to meet this woman. She doesn’t seem like your usual bimbo. She’s smart; she’s frugal, only has 30K left on her mortgage. Never been stopped for running a red light. Never even had a late fee on her Visa bill. She’s basically the complete opposite of you.”