Complicated Creatures: Part One

by Alexi Lawless

  “Mom’s just asking Samantha to hog-tie Jaime,” Jack explained, plucking Maddie off his father’s shoulders.

  Standing side by side like that, Sam suspected she was looking at a tear in the space-time continuum. Sandro was what Jack would look like in another twenty-to-thirty years. Sandro’s midnight hair was shot with silver, his handsome face creased at the eyes and forehead with character and good humor. Jack favored his father more heavily than his brother, their silver eyes nearly identical as well as their broad-shouldered, barrel-chested builds. She could see that Sandro grew up boxing from his stature and comportment. She could also see he was a sly old fox if she ever saw one.

  Sam knew from his reputation on the Hill that Sandro Roman was capable of charming you into compromise after compromise until you unwittingly realized you were under his control. He’d earned his reputation for being devious and intelligent. She’d bet her right hand that if he hadn’t become a politician, he’d be a conman or a mob boss. Perhaps as a career Chicago politician and attorney, he was a little of both.

  Sandro’s brows lifted as he regarded her. “Oh? Is that like an early Christmas gift?” he inquired idly, toasting Sam lightly with a clink of his wine glass.

  Sam chuckled. “It’s just a basic skill my dad taught me growin’ up, but it did come in useful for handsy boys at dances,” she responded as she popped an olive from Jaime’s antipasti into her mouth.

  “Now that’s good parenting,” Sandro replied, silver eyes twinkling. “We’ll have to teach Maddie that trick.”

  “You would really tie me up?” Jaime theatrically lamented.

  “Nah,” Sam answered. “You haven’t finished our mobile apps yet. Carey would be devastated.”

  “Heartless,” he answered on a groan. “But we’re close. I’ll have some protos for you guys next week. You’ll be able to test them out.”

  “Good, because we have a new client traveling to Brazil I want to try them out on,” she replied, thinking of Wes and the NBS crew.

  “Really? Where? I’ll be in Rio meeting with Brasil Telecom in a couple weeks. I could help you with the trialing,” Jaime offered.

  “Trial? What trial?” Lena asked, hand rolling the gnocchi as Sandro stood at the stove, stirring the acquacotta.

  As Jaime explained what they were working on, Sam was struck by the easy domesticity of the moment. Lena and Sandro moved around the kitchen together with the easy familiarity born of years spent together. She noticed Sandro took opportunities to touch her often and with obvious fondness. Sam realized this was where Jack learned his easy affection and tactile playfulness. This is what love looked like to him. It radiated off his parents effortlessly like a pronounced aura. Standing in the kitchen preparing a meal as a family, Sam was acutely aware of how different her upbringing was from Jack’s. She glanced to the kitchen table where Maddie was helping Jack sprinkle cocoa powder over a pan of homemade tiramisu.

  Jack glanced up, catching her pensive gaze.

  Sam immediately smoothed her face into benign placidity as she lifted her glass to him in a silent toast.

  Jack’s eyes darkened infinitesimally.

  “Samantha,” Sandro called. “Do you know how to cook pesce azzurro alla Griglia?” he asked, pointing at butterflied blue fish fillets in a broiling pan.

  “No, sir,” she answered. “But I’m pretty sure I can catch it and gut it.”

  Now it was Sandro’s turn to laugh. “I like this one, Gianni. She’s a keeper,” he told Jack.

  “That’s what I said,” Lena agreed.

  Sam’s glanced at Jack quizzically. “Your name is Gianni? How did I not know this?”

  “Nickname,” Jack replied.

  “Because of your resemblance to your uncle,” Sam recalled. “And you?” Sam asked, pointing to Jaime.

  “Grassoccio,” Sandro answered for him with a big smile. “It means ‘chubby.’”

  Sam blinked. “That’s ironic, right?” she asked, gesturing at Jaime’s lean frame even as his ears pinked.

  “Dad, stop,” Jaime grumbled, slicing thick, freshly baked Italian loaves.

  “He was a fat baby,” Lena shrugged. “Took me nearly thirty-six hours to squeeze him out. Thought he was going to tear me in half. I was done having kids after that,” she confided while Jaime groaned and Jack and his father laughed.

  “I will never live that down. I can’t help how I came out the womb, Ma!” Jaime cried, slicing the tomatoes for the bruschetta forcefully.

  “What’s a womb?” Maddie asked suddenly.

  “Nothing you need to worry about for many, many years, micina cara,” Jack answered, rolling his eyes at his brother.

  “Come here, Samantha. I’ll show you how to cook like an Italian,” Sandro urged.

  As she helped him slice and prepare the fish with thinly-sliced lemons, parsley, garlic, and bread crumbs, he peppered her with casually-asked questions. Sam was aware he was garnering information on her family and background, but she figured his position on certain Senate committees probably got him access to far more substantial morsels of data than she would provide over a sizzling pan, and Sandro was so damnably charming, she didn’t mind the mild and well-meant intrusions. Sam drank Barolo until she was pleasantly giddy, laughing at Sandro’s jokes and Jack and Jaime’s colorful translations of Lena’s occasionally vehement outbursts in Italian.

  They nibbled on Jaime’s antipasti, opened more bottles of wine, cooked, and listened to an eclectic combination of vintage R&B and Sinatra. Within a couple hours, Thanksgiving dinner was ready. Jack lit the candles, Jaime opened another bottle, and Sam helped Sandro and Lena bring dishes to the table. The feast was stunning, and Sam felt a genuine warmth steal over her body as she observed their handiwork.

  “Pan di sudore, miglior sapore,”17 Lena declared.

  “A tavola non si invecchia,”18 Sandro responded, seating his wife before rounding the table.

  Jack mimicked the motion, dropping a casual kiss to her cheek as Sam sat down.

  “Samantha, you are a welcome guest at our table anytime,” Lena told her, clasping her hand. “It’s been such a pleasure to have you join our family.”

  Jack slipped his hand around hers under the table, holding it to his thigh as he smiled at her.

  She waited for the old uneasiness to emerge, but instead she felt strangely relaxed, perhaps mellow from too much wine and the heat of the kitchen. She didn’t analyze her feelings too closely, afraid that if she prodded, she’d lose her contentment as Sandro said a short grace and Lena encouraged Maddie to tell everyone what she was thankful for as they took turns serving her small helpings of nearly everything.

  The conversation ebbed and flowed, the meal and wine consumed and enjoyed. Sandro told entertaining stories about the boys growing up, and Lena debated a variety of topics with Jack and Jaime while Sam sat back and watched, entertained by their amicable verbal sparring. Sandro joked and teased while Lena parried and struck. As a couple, they were lovely compliments to each other, and Sam enjoyed deducing which one had greater influences on Jack and Jaime’s characters and approach to life. Sam managed to avoid getting drawn too far into the debates, though she didn’t try to elude Sandro’s continued questioning. She gave simple, straightforward answers that she dressed up with a smile, knowing he was half-curious and half just watching out for the well-being of his eldest son.

  Sam liked Jack’s parents. They were wealthy, influential, and urbane, but they had a kind of old world anchorage and easygoing air about them that eschewed that kind of affectation. The Romans looked, felt, and sounded like a family. And watching them together slid another set of colors together in Jack’s Rubik’s cube. It also explained why he was so good at presenting one side of himself that had very little to do with the other. He’d come by the ability to divide his public persona and personal privacy honestly through years of practice growing up under high-profile parents who kept what happened behind closed doors very real and decidedly unpretentious.

&nb
sp; The conversation flowed until long after the dessert and coffee were consumed, and Maddie was passed out on Lena’s shoulder. Jack leaned over at some point to ask if she was ready to head home.

  “I was hoping we could neck in your childhood room,” she whispered, her eyes teasing.

  Jack smirked at her, his eyes amused. “I’m pretty certain they converted it to a guest bedroom years ago.”

  “Liar,” Sam accused. “You just don’t want me to see band posters and your high school porn collection.”

  Jack rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

  “What’s Gianni rolling his eyes about?” Sandro asked.

  “Oh, he won’t tell me what he was like as a disgruntled youth,” Sam replied, a glint in her eye.

  Sandro guffawed. “Disgruntled? Hardly. We had to kick him out of the house to go to Northwestern. He kept coming back on the weekends. And then he brought Mitch. Sometimes we wondered if he’d ever left,” Sandro confided, laughter lighting his eyes.

  “It’s true,” Lena nodded. “When he wasn’t playing sports or at school, he was lounging around, reading, listening to records, and eating all the food in the middle of the night.”

  “Sounds familiar,” she replied as she glanced at Jack.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “The town car will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Nice save,” Jaime teased, picking Maddie up from his mother. “I’ll get her ready for bed. Do you want her here tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Sandro answered. “Go ahead and put her down. We’re taking her out to the Lincoln Park Zoo tomorrow.”

  “Great—I need some time in the office to get ready for the Brazil trip.”

  “When are you going again?” Jack asked.

  “A couple weeks. Brasil Telecom is looking at expanding the 4G service throughout the country, and they’re asking a few companies to come in and pitch apps they want to standardize on their new smartphone operating systems,” Jaime explained as Maddie snored gently on his shoulder.

  “Who all is going?” Samantha asked.

  “Me, Carter Robbison from Movicom, Talvin Gupta from Sentient, and Chen Lei from Babel, that I know of,” Jaime told them, rounding the table.

  “Those are some heavy hitters,” she remarked.

  “Bunch of tech geeks, you mean,” Jaime chuckled. “Sam, it was really good that you could join us,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll swing by with the test app sometime this week, and we’ll figure out some sort of trialing for that client you have in Rio.”

  Sam nodded, smiling at him and petting a hand down Maddie’s sleeping head.

  “Bro, you and me, the old boxing club with Dad on Sunday?” Jaime asked. “Be prepared to get your ass handed to you,” he told Jack with a wink.

  “Better bring Maddie’s blanket because you’re going to be crying into it,” Jack responded, clasping a hand around his brother’s shoulder affectionately as he leaned in to kiss Maddie’s soft, plump cheek.

  “Tell Mitch to come too, if he’s back from Indiana by then,” Sandro added, smiling. “I’ll school all of you.”

  “Dal frutto si conosce l’albero,”19 Lena sighed.

  Lena and Sandro insisted on packing leftovers for them, patting their cheeks and kissing them both as they saw them out. The fall air had become downright cold, especially at that late hour, and Sam could see her breath as they walked toward the waiting town car.

  Jack tucked her into his side as they settled in the car, laying his cheek on her head as she leaned into him, enjoying the feel of his fine cashmere coat against her cheek and his long fingers delving into her hair as he stroked her gently.

  “I’m glad you came with me,” he murmured.

  “I liked them,” she mumbled sleepily, breathing in his scent. “That’s the first family dinner I’ve been to since…” She distantly heard herself trail off.

  “Since what, tesoro?”

  Sam shifted against him, closing her eyes and drowsing.

  “Since Dad and Ryland died,” she mumbled, slipping into a food-and drink-induced doze.

  Jack didn’t say anything, but she thought she felt his arm tighten around her.

  *

  November—Later that night

  The Whitney, Chicago

  J A C K

  “I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like this before, Gianni. I thought her name sounded familiar, and then it struck me. I knew her father…”

  Jack guided a relaxed and sleepy Samantha from the car up to his apartment. She’d gone through the mechanics of getting ready for bed in a lethargic daze, crawling between the blankets and sighing happily before promptly passing out.

  What he’d give to be able to sleep like her. It seemed she could sleep anytime and anywhere and wake up rejuvenated, even if it was only for a twenty-minute power nap. Jack padded downstairs to pick up his coat. He pulled out the manila envelope, taking it into his study.

  “I pulled some of her files. I can’t share a great deal with you. A lot of her work in the Navy is redacted, but what details I could share are here…”

  Jack eyed the file sitting on his desk warily. It was one thing to do a background check on someone buying one of his properties. It was another thing entirely to read highly confidential and undoubtedly personal information about the woman he’d fallen for without her knowledge or consent.

  Jack knew his father meant well. He also knew this was standard operating procedure for a man who garnered favors and clout through information gathering and select, opportunistic sharing of that knowledge. There was so much Jack wanted to know about Samantha, and there was so much she glossed over or didn’t share. He knew that her past impacted how she operated and made decisions, and so he’d accepted the file, slipping it into this coat when he knew he shouldn’t have.

  “I met Robert Wyatt during my first term on the finance committee. He was one of the largest private oil owners in the United States at the time—a real heavy hitter and very savvy. It was terrible the way he and his son died. And the boy was so young…”

  Samantha rarely discussed her past, much less her father and brother. Jack knew they’d passed away, but she’d never disclosed the specifics. She seldom talked about her time in the military, though most of her closest bonds were with the men she’d trained and fought with on her tours. She didn’t discuss her past relationships, though he knew she’d been loved by at least a couple of other men—and one in particular, who had hurt her to the point that Jack was the one paying for it.

  Everything he knew about Samantha was related to what she liked in bed and how she ran her current day-to-day life. Jack felt an irrational and aberrant jealousy of anyone who knew anything about her as he gathered the pieces and shards from the little she was willing to disclose on rare occasions. And now he had a thick file and several cases of her ex-lover’s wine hidden in his wine storage, mocking his obsession and tempting him to violate the fragile trust she had in him.

  “I can see you love her, Gianni. And I want you to be happy. But I don’t want you to be blind. She is complex. Così fan tutte.20 ” His father nodded in understanding. “But her background is labyrinthine. There are things in here you should be aware of if you are serious about her. Things she may not even be aware of…”

  Jack reached out, his hand hovering over the manila envelope. He snatched it up after a moment, standing and crossing over to his wall safe, tucking it under other documents, obscuring it from his vision. He left the study, taking the wrought iron staircase two at a time, slipping into the bedroom to sidle next to her on the bed.

  Samantha smiled in her sleep, murmuring as she slipped her hand toward him, seeking him even as she drifted back into her dreams. This was new. When she’d first stayed with him, she’d remained so still, her sleeping form compact and angled away from him, toward the door, as if in preparation. Now, she seemed to gravitate toward him, reaching for him in the barely-morning hours, her fingers tracing cool sheets until they found h
im.

  “It’s normal to love a dangerous woman,” his father told him with serious eyes. “They know how to wield their power, and they are not afraid of yours. They make you work for everything you get and it’s all the sweeter once you get it. Makes you feel coraggioso21 to be able to hold her. I know this, Gianni. Look at your mother.” He smiled. “A lioness. But Samantha is dark. She’s dark for a reason…”

  Jack looked down at her now, body relaxed in repose, her dark hair a silky skein across his pillow. Samantha was endlessly fascinating, exhilarating him, prompting him to become disconcertingly fanatical. Jack suspected there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her, and yet there was so much about her he didn’t understand. It was a massive gamble. Samantha was high-stakes risk personified.

  Jack slid off the bed, relieved he hadn’t read the file, hadn’t broken an unspoken confidence with her, as fragile and imperfect as it was. She would disclose what she could in time, and he had to give her the space to do it. He had to have faith that she would do it. Give back to him what he so willingly gave to her. As Jack undressed, preparing for bed, his resolve solidified, hardened, as everything clarified. He would wait for her. She would be worth the risk.

  Chapter 21

  November—A week later

  Sam’s office in the Loop, Chicago

  S A M A N T H A

  Jaime’s app was nearly flawless. The interface was seamless and easy to use, and it could pinpoint the location of the objects being tracked within a few feet. It also couldn’t be disabled unless the user took the SIM card out of the phone or if the locater chip on the object was destroyed. Jaime held up the locater chip, the size of an eraser head.

  Sam loved it. “Okay, I won’t hog tie you,” she grinned, looking down at the app on her tablet as Jaime walked around her large office, watching the dot move on the screen. She noticed another dot farther off screen. She pulled up a separate map. The dot was about eight blocks away from her office. “What is this other dot? Do you have another locater chip?”