Unearthed

by Ann B. Morris

  Ned shoved the folders and the sheaf of papers in front of him to the side, and, propping his elbows on the desk, dropped his head in his hands, his fingers already working the large muscle at the base of his neck. “Get with it, boss man, you can’t do anything about what’s going on over there. It’s fucking political correctness. We’ll be lucky to get out of this with our asses still in one piece.” He brushed the mess of paper farther away and laid down his head on his arms. “Shit, man, it’s just about over for me.”

  Beck stomped over to the water cooler and snatched a cup from the dispenser attached to its side just as Ned lifted his head and looked at him.

  “I don’t know why you’re so riled up over a damn joke. No harm was done.” He started to laugh but belched instead and again lowered his head on his arms.

  Beck crushed the empty paper cup and aimed it at the wastepaper basket at the side of his desk. The shot missed its mark by a mile, and he let out a stream of curses, glared at his friend, and took a couple of deep breaths. “Well, asshole, your night of fun has made the opportunity for me to curry some favor with that ‘bitch’ even more difficult. She might not help us, but I’d sure rather have her with me than against me.” He took in a lungful of air. “Despite what she’s doing to us, she seems to be a rather nice person.”

  Ned pushed up from the chair, using the edge of the desk to steady himself.

  In a second, Beck was at Ned’s side, both hands locked on his friend’s shoulders. He grimaced and took a step back at the strong smell of whiskey on Ned’s breath. “Christ, man,” Beck growled, pushing Ned back in the chair. “You smell like a distillery. Didn’t you even go home last night?”

  “Ha,” Ned slurred, “Home.” His eyes closed, and his shoulders rolled forward. “I won’t have any home to go to before long.” He looked up at Beck, bleary-eyed, before his chin dipped to his chest.

  Beck had never seen Ned this fucked up before. He reached out and put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I thought I was helping you by giving you a heads-up on the problem before I broke it to the others. But getting drunk and scaring the shit out of people isn’t the way to go. I told you last night, a chance still exists Sonny might help us.”

  Sonny Dexter was the State Representative of the district where the shopping center was scheduled to be built. He and Beck had grown up in the same neighborhood, had gone through high school together, and still maintained an active friendship. “I’ll call Sonny first thing Monday morning and see if he can at least get in touch with the office that sent us the cancellation notice. I have an idea to present that just might fly. If it does, we could be back in business before long.”

  Ned brushed aside Beck’s hand. “You still don’t get it, do you, boss man? Any delay, any delay at all, and Merilee will have my balls in a vise. She’s got her heart set on a new Beemer she picked out a couple of days ago. I was supposed to go over this afternoon and see if I could get financing with some fast talking.” Ned swiped his hand across the desk, and papers flew in every direction. He pushed himself up again, swayed, fell against the desk, and used it for support.

  “I’ve got a promissory note at the bank due in less than six months and a balloon house note up in less than three.” Ned massaged the bridge of his nose. “I might have cut a few deals.” He spread his fingers to span his brow. “Maybe extend one of those notes for an extra few months if we started on time.”

  Beck put a hand on Ned’s shoulder and eased his friend down onto the chair. “I can let you have a few thousand, if it’ll help.” Christ, he hated to see his friend like this. He wished he could offer him more money, but he had obligations of his own staring him in the face.

  “A few thousand might delay the bankruptcy court,” Ned mumbled. “But not the divorce court.”

  Squinting against the rays of sun streaming through the open window, Ned craned his neck toward Beck and gave him a once-over from head to toe. “Well, look at you, boss man, all decked out in your best duds. Ain’t seen them pricey boots on your feet in the daytime ever before, that’s for sure.” He slapped the arm of his desk chair, and his hand slipped on the slick wood. “Ah, now I get it. You went down there to see what you could do to help us, did you?” Ned pulled in a quick breath. “Seems to me you got all spruced up for—what did you call her—an ivory tower aca—academ—aw shit, Beck, it’s always about gettin’ in some broad’s pants, ain’t it?”

  Beck lunged at Ned, had him by the collar, and out of the chair before either of them knew what had happened. When he realized what he had done, Beck clenched his jaw against his anger and as fast as he’d lifted up Ned, he shoved him back down in the chair. Issuing a string of loud curses, he reached across the desk and snatched Ned’s keys that miraculously hadn’t made it to the floor with the pile of papers.

  His hand shook as he dropped the keys in his shirt pocket. He was at the door before he turned back to look at his friend. “I’ll be back with these,” he said, patting his pocket, “when you’re in a fit condition to drive.” He slammed the door behind him and hurried to his truck, his fists clenching and unclenching in a deliberate rhythm to tame the fury roiling inside him. As soon as he was on the road, he hit the interstate doing seventy and the speed still wasn’t fast enough to outrun the thoughts racing through his head.

  He’d told Ned he’d rather have Alex with him than against him. What a lie. He wanted her against him. Against him all soft, with him all hard. Real hard. But despite what Ned thought, he wasn’t out just to get between her legs. Above all else, he wanted to find whatever help he could to get the group out of the mess they were in. When he told Ned he’d call Sonny to see about the possibility of some help from him, he’d meant every word. He was determined to move mountains to get their venture on track again.

  In the meantime, now that he was calmer, he’d get lunch and give Ned a chance to sober up and pull himself together.

  Then he’d call Cheryl and set things right. She might even invite him over. If he could pass the next couple of hours in the sack with her, then at least he would have salvaged something on that front.

  He chuckled under his breath. He was kidding himself if he thought he could roll back in Cheryl’s bed as if nothing had happened last night. The plain, ugly truth was he’d been unable to concentrate long enough on the woman under him to keep a good hard on. For him, that meant trouble. Real trouble.

  Anger washed over him again as last night’s humiliation taunted him. He had never before been impotent with a woman.

  Cheryl had tried to be a good sport about his inability to perform. The first time it happened, she hadn’t out and out laughed, just tittered in her silly way. But she’d been more than a little pissed when he’d struck out the second time, as well.

  The stress of this goddamned mess was probably what had him off center. He’d heard stress could be a real downer where sex was concerned. But he’d been in tough places before, and he’d never gone soft like that. Or stayed soft like that. Until…

  Until he thought of her. Damn her. Damn ivory tower academic with ice water in her veins, he’d bet. Cold and frigid, that’s probably what she was. But by God, he sure wanted to find out. He wanted to see if he could heat her up until she melted all over him.

  And then the truth hit him. Hit him good.

  He wanted her with a force that was stronger than any he’d felt in all his forty-odd years. And right then he made a promise to himself. Unless the sun didn’t rise again, he would have her before this month was over.

  ****

  Alex switched off the car engine and laid her head back on the leather headrest. Her temple throbbed and her stomach ached. She felt absolutely miserable when she stepped out of the van to join the students.

  She’d spent the better part of the past half-hour arguing with Kent about whether or not they should report the incident with that damned fake skeleton to the police. She didn’t see the need to file a report. He did, and he was still gathering a majorit
y of support from the other students.

  “You’ll be sorry if something happens to screw up this dig,” Kent warned again as they loaded the last of their gear into the back of the van.

  A few of the others chimed in with their support of Kent’s position.

  “Okay, okay,” she cried, holding up a hand to silence the students. “We’ll stop by the police station on the way home. I’ll ask them to keep an eye on the site over the weekend.”

  “I think we should make a formal complaint,” Kent insisted.

  “Against who?” She was tired and irritable, and depression was settling over her. Right on target. As predictable as her monthly period.

  Kent hauled himself up into the driver’s seat. “You know who. That country bumpkin hard-ass, that’s who.”

  “On what proof?”

  “On yesterday’s proof. I sure hope you didn’t believe the line he handed you. Acting like he was Prince Charming riding on a white horse, instead of a caped villain in a white pick-up.”

  Alex couldn’t help but laugh as the other students climbed into the back of the van and she took the passenger seat. This attitude was all so ridiculous. Kent was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. She turned toward the back of the van and had a change of mind. A few of the students looked frightened, their eyes wide and their lips pressed together. Maybe she should report it to the police. She did have a responsibility not only to the project, but to the students, as well. “I’ll stop and tell them,” she said. “But I won’t make any accusations. And neither will any of you.”

  Kent stayed focused straight ahead for the rest of the ride to the police station.

  His demeanor didn’t change even after she made her request to have the site patrolled over the weekend, but she couldn’t let his obvious disappointment bother her. She was depressed enough.

  “Do you think there’s any chance he might get this project stopped?” Kent asked, when they pulled onto the highway again.

  Alex groaned. He just wouldn’t quit. “What in the world would make you think that?”

  Kent took his gaze off the road momentarily and looked at her sideways, then swung his head forward again. “Just something he said and the way he looked when you practically told him just the luck of the draw had put his project in jeopardy.”

  “You were eavesdropping on our conversation?” She made no attempt to hide the dismay in her voice.

  “I overhead him when I went to get my lunch out of the van.”

  “I’ll put my career on the line he’ll never get it stopped.”

  “He might get the project delayed enough so French would be back by the time it started again.”

  “Even if that did happen you’d still be her assistant, just as you’re mine,” Alex assured him.

  Kent braked for slowing traffic and cast another sideways glance at Alex. “She’s too old for the job. They should have given the project to you first, anyway.”

  Not this again. They’d had this discussion at least a half dozen times. “She’s not too old, and she’s still the best. I need to be someplace else this summer. End of discussion.” She appreciated he was her biggest supporter, even though she suspected that support had as much to do with himself as it did with her. Even though he would be staying on the dig after she was gone, they both knew he would probably have a difficult time working with someone else. He wasn’t easy to get along with.

  The rest of the ride home was uneventful, but by the time she’d dropped off the rest of the students at the university campus where they’d parked their private vehicles, she was well on her way to the beginning of what she’d come to call her “yearly rite of passage.”

  For the past four years, she slid into a deep well of darkness and stayed there for days, sometimes weeks. Then somehow, in a miraculous way, she made her way up and out again. Another death. Another rebirth.

  Her only consolation was that the dark times came only once a year now. These past two years, especially, she had even come to enjoy getting up most mornings. When she did have a dark moment, she was quick to remind herself she was still five years sober and had regained the ground lost during her years of intemperance. No small accomplishment, either of those things.

  Inside the apartment, Alex dropped the backpack by the front door and went to the kitchen in search of something for her headache. She ignored the red blinking message light on the answering machine and went instead for two aspirin and a glass of water. First things first. Afterward, she pressed the Play button and listened. Three hang-ups. Then Charles. He was just calling to see how her weekend had gone. He missed her. She didn’t miss him. And no, she didn’t want to see him.

  Next, her mother reminded her of the anniversary party she’d told Alex about months ago. The invitation should arrive in a few days. She’d be expecting Alex to stay the whole weekend of the party, of course. Bill would be there, her mother reminded her. She certainly hoped Alex would be more cordial to him than she had at their last meeting.

  If Alex wanted to, she could bring Charles. He could use the extra guest room. Just please, please don’t bring that annoying student of hers. Alex laughed. Kent certainly didn’t know how to win friends and influence people.

  Alex deleted the message and went on to the next call. Another hang-up. She scrolled through the messages on the caller ID, two of the first hang-ups came through as unavailable. One had Charles’ number. The last one was also unavailable. Telemarketers. They were a tenacious lot. Alex finished the water and put the empty glass in the sink.

  The phone rang.

  She reached for the receiver. The line clicked dead in her ear. Annoyed, she unplugged the phone, switched off the kitchen light and headed upstairs to shower. Afterwards, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She spent most of Sunday in bed and would have stayed in bed Monday, too, except she had to drive to her office to turn in her grades.

  By the time she arrived home late Monday afternoon, she was drained of energy. Her head still ached, and even the thought of a bowl of hot soup, which would be her first meal of the day, sounded less than appetizing. She glanced at the phone as she heated the soup. Should she leave the phone disconnected, or shouldn’t she? Yes, she should. She’d wait to reconnect to the outside world until absolutely necessary.

  As it always did this time of year, tomorrow would come soon enough.

  Chapter Four

  Monday evening, Beck leaned on the doorbell and waited anxiously for Alex to answer. He was quite sure she was home. A late-model sedan with a university faculty sticker on the windshield was parked in the spot reserved for her condo unit.

  He heard a muffled sound from inside the apartment followed by the click of a lock.

  The door eased open only as far as the chain would allow. Alex gasped when she saw him.

  A moment later, the door closed to release the chain, and she opened the door wide enough for him to get a full view of her face. She looked like hell. He wasn’t about to say so aloud though, not with dark circles under her eyes and no color in her cheeks. His first impulse was to take her in his arms and vow to protect her from whatever demon had taken up residence inside her. But he couldn’t. Hell, he didn’t even know her that well.

  She gripped the edge of the door with one hand and with the other pulled the pink silk robe tighter around her waist. “What are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?” she asked, her voice feeble as a child’s.

  “Your address is in the telephone book. I took the chance only one A. Kingsley lived in town.” He pointed to her car. “I took the same chance on a faculty sticker at the same address.” He forced a smile when what he really wanted to do was scold her for letting whatever was torturing her get such a firm foothold. “I’ve tried to reach you by phone. So have a lot of other people,” he added, wondering if she would invite him in, or if he’d have to tell her the reason for his visit right there on her doorstep. Or maybe she had a reason for not wanting him inside.
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br />   Shifting as inconspicuously as possible to see over her shoulder, he peered into the dark foyer behind her. No one else was inside that he could see. Maybe upstairs? In the bedroom? Ridiculous. She looked almost too weak to haul herself out of bed much less frolic around in one.

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated for a second then opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He stepped inside the foyer, and let his eyes adjust to the dim light surrounding them, surprised to find the foyer so gloomy when outside the sun had barely set.

  Closing the door behind him, she clutched the lapels of the robe at her throat.

  Her hands shook visibly, and he hoped his showing up on her doorstep wasn’t the reason for such a reaction. He had nothing to do with the physical and emotional wreck she had already become. And much as he would like to wait for her to calm down before he upset her further, he needed to tell her the news that had brought him here as quickly as possible so he could get the hell on his way. “The site was vandalized again.”

  Her face paled even more.

  With a tilt of her head, she beckoned him to follow. He followed her to the den which was only a little brighter than the hall they’d just passed through.

  After turning on a lamp, she sat on the edge of the sofa and waved him to a chair across from it.

  He preferred to stand.

  She gathered the fabric of her robe tighter at her throat. “When? How badly?”

  “Not too bad. No real damage we could see. Most of the stakes were knocked down, and those peanuts used for packing were strewn all over the ground. I think you’re looking at a clean-up job more than anything else.”

  With a sigh of relief, she leaned back against the sofa. “Packing material? Then I was right, kids are pulling these childish pranks.”