by Jada Ryker
Stung, Marisa retorted, “That’s because she’s too busy screaming her head off!”
Alex looked down at her and smiled in her eyes. “It’s better than that inane giggling!”
Sarah’s screams were cut off.
Marisa craned her neck and sighed in relief. “Oh, good, Parvis has his hand over her mouth.”
“I see the shooter on the roof of the building across the street.” Parvis’ voice was strained. “See the sunlight reflecting on metal?”
Alex reared up to get a better view of the building.
Seizing her opportunity, Marisa quickly scooted out from under him.
He grabbed her flailing leg. “Stay down, Marisa, if you get up, he’ll shoot you!”
“That’s right, Marisa,” echoed Parvis, “stay down and don’t try and be a hero!”
They could hear sirens in the distance.
“The police are on their way!” Marisa was relieved. She was confident the police would fix everything.
Brandon spoke into his cell phone. “We think the sniper is on the roof of the delicatessen across the street from the gym. Tell the officers to be careful.”
Marisa saw the police cars speeding toward them. At the last moment, one veered off and squealed around the delicatessen.
“I don’t see the light glinting any longer. I think he’s gone.”
* * * * *
“If we only had some potato salad with flies buzzing around, it’d be just like a family reunion!”
Still on the ground, Marisa contemplated the beat-up gym shoes next to her face. Her eyes travelled up the bare legs, covered in light blonde kinky hair, the torn shorts and t-shirt, and stopped at the set face.
“Hi, Dreamus.”
Dreamus grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, as uniformed officers assisted Sarah, Alex, Brandon, and Parvis. With his informal attire, his short blonde hair glistening in the sun, and his smooth, handsome face, Dreamus looked like a teenager in search of a game of hoops.
Marisa knew better than to underestimate him. She tried a smile. “Here we are again!”
“Yes, Marisa, here we are again. Wherever I find you and Alex and Parvis, I find trouble...trouble with a capital T and gaily wrapped in yellow police tape.”
Marisa cocked her head. “I don’t think we’re allowed to use the word ‘gay’ as a casual adjective. It’s not PC.”
He held out his open hand. In his palm were copper cylinders in a clear plastic bag. “Spent ammunition is all my officers found on the roof of the delicatessen. Looks like we have a sniper on the loose. Why is it every time I see you three together, someone is trying to kill you?”
CHAPTER TEN
“What do you think was behind the sniper attack, Parvis? Was it a random shooting, or do you think it was a personal attack on Sarah?” Leaning with her back against her kitchen counter, Marisa looked up at Parvis.
His muscular body nearly touching hers, Parvis used a gauze pad soaked in peroxide to clean the small glass cuts on her face. “I don’t know. What if her boyfriend...”
“Jake the Snake,” Marisa supplied.
“Jake the Snake? Is that his real name?”
Marisa’s lips quirked. “Maybe the ‘Snake’ part doesn’t appear on his social security card.”
“Anyway, what if the herpetological Jake found out about Brandon and Sarah, and discovered she was meeting him at the gym today? Then he took up his stance on the roof of the delicatessen with a high-powered rifle, with the intention of taking them both out.”
Parvis picked up a clean square of gauze, and dipped it in the solution. “You have some cuts on your neck and chest.” Gently and slowly, he swiped the damp pad across her collar bones. Holding her eyes, he slid it along the neckline of her top. He held her gaze, and very slowly, he caressed the heated skin just inside her top.
He leaned in, closing the hair’s breadth of space between their bodies.
Marisa could feel his chest against hers, and his legs, bared by his shorts, brushing against hers.
His lips touched hers. His mouth was gentle and heated as he kissed her. When his tongue touched hers, she opened her mouth for him.
With a yelp, Parvis tore himself away from her.
Jumping on one leg, he held the other one. “Jesus Christ, that damn cat attacked me again! He waits for the last slash wounds to heal, and then he gives me another incredibly painful set!” Blood welled between his fingers.
“Laithe!” Marisa scolded her cat.
His extra-long ears perked, the Abyssinian cat blinked his wide, green eyes once. Then, he sauntered out of the kitchen with a satisfied twist of his orange tail.
Marisa grabbed another square of clean gauze and wet it in the peroxide.
Parvis’ smile was tilted on one end. “Would you like to have dinner with me? Then, maybe we can use an animal tranquilizer on Laithe, and...”
Marisa snickered. “You and Laithe need some couples counseling.” Her smile faded. “Dinner sounds awesome, I am starving. But after dinner...”
Parvis groaned. “I have a feeling I am not going to like this...”
“I think we need to question Sarah tonight.”
“I knew I was not going to like it! Your face got that scrunched up look it gets right before you say something that’s going to lead to bad things, like someone trying to kill us...you know, when you told me you’d agreed to racquetball with Sarah, Brandon, and Alex, it was definitely scrunched up.”
Marisa decided to take the high road and ignore his comment about her face. “Who was the sniper trying to kill? Although Alex is a pain in the ass, he leads a life so blameless it’s positively vanilla clean. At least those bullets weren’t meant for us.” She thought about the mysterious white car, which had followed her and Tara to the club. And don’t forget, she reminded herself, Kevin the Stalker.
Parvis frowned. “Sarah, on the other hand, is a member of the online group under a fictitious identity, goes to the group meetings in disguise, and is cheating on her abusive and violent boyfriend.”
“Exactly,” Marisa agreed. “If he found out what she’s up to, not only would he be outraged because he thinks Sarah is his property, but he’d also be livid because she’s his meal ticket. We’ll have to go to the strip club tonight and see her. I don’t know where she lives, only that it’s with Jake the Snake and it’s not a model of happy home life. She usually gets on stage around nine.”
“Are you sure she’s working tonight? What if she’s off?”
Marisa’s mouth twisted. “I went to the strip club every weekend and many weeknights for the past several years, up until my rehab for my addictions to alcohol and painkillers, among other things. Sarah worked every Saturday night. She always said it’s the big money night.”
In her peripheral vision, Marisa saw Laithe glide into the kitchen.
Laithe howled.
Marisa grabbed Parvis, thinking her cat was back for another attack.
His orange brindle fur electric with tension and his orange tail fluffed out in stiff spikes, his back arched and he hissed.
He wasn’t looking at Parvis; he was focused on the door.
Marisa turned her head.
Her neighbor was standing in the doorway, holding the door open a few inches. Her face was avidly pressed to the opening. “Verna!”
“Hello, Marisa.” Her bright neon pink shorts and sleeveless top streaked with dirt, the little octogenarian hopped through the opening. With her short gray hair slicked straight back from her forehead, her elongated head, and her large, hooked nose, she looked like a tiny bird. As her head bobbed in excitement, Verna reminded Marisa of a toy bird, perpetually swinging up and down to drink.
“I didn’t see you standing there.” Marisa’s tone was pointed.
Verna was supremely impervious to tones, pointed or otherwise. “I was waiting for a break in the conversation.”
Marisa drew an outraged breath.
“I had to come over and tell you about
that white car today.” Her nut brown eyes were large in the wrinkled, freckled face. “I noticed it parked in the street across from your house. I was positive you’d want to know.” Verna smiled at them both, exposing her stained, bucked front teeth.
Marisa had the random thought of using those teeth to open a beer bottle. She clenched her jaw. “It’s a public street, Verna, people park their cars on it all of the time.”
“It doesn’t belong to anybody in this neighborhood.” Her wrinkled little face glowed with fanaticism. “Believe me, I know all of the cars around here. Anyway, it sat there for the longest time, never moving while I weeded the front yard. I looked over there from time to time, but nobody got out of it.”
When Marisa didn’t respond, Verna snapped her fingers. “Oh, by the way, I saw your friend at the assisted living center yesterday. I was there to visit my sister Clara. I knew Althea Flaxton left the nursing home after that bit of trouble several months ago, but I didn’t realize she was at the center. You know your friend and I taught in the same school, and my sister Clara worked in the cafeteria? I think I may have mentioned that?”
“Yes, you did.” About fifty million times. Marisa thanked God that Verna had taught at Althea’s elementary school after Marisa had started high school. Consequently, Verna didn’t know Althea had virtually taken Marisa into her house and heart to help her deal with her abusive home life.
“I can’t believe Mrs. Flaxton was allowed to teach math and science. It was very inappropriate for a woman to teach those subjects. Why, we had men teachers on staff to teach them. Women teachers taking over math and science subjects...what are the men supposed to teach, home economics?” Verna’s voice rose in outrage.
Laithe growled deep in his throat, and approached the old lady with a sideways, stealthy slink.
Verna’s face lit up. “Oh, there’s the kitty! I’ve seen the dear little thing in the window.” Her little white tennis shoes squeaked on the granite floor as approached the angry cat. “Nice kitty.”
He hissed and opened his mouth so wide it nearly swallowed his triangular face.
Verna stuck out her hand.
Marisa moved between them. “Laithe really doesn’t care for strangers.”
Verna’s eyes rose in surprise. “Well, he certainly liked that skinny young man who was here this morning.” Shamelessly, she met Marisa’s outraged eyes.
She waved her stick-thin arm toward the window over Marisa’s sink, which looked out over her backyard. “I was working in the backyard this morning, trimming those low-lying branches of yours that are close to my fence. I couldn’t help but see the young man holding the cat in his arms. They were rubbing all over each other.”
Marisa moved to the window and peered out.
Parvis moved behind her and looked over her shoulder. His breath warm on her cheek, he whispered, “If she draped her body over the fence and stretched her torso into your yard, and her clippers were at least five feet long, she could reach those branches. If she twisted her head just right, then she could see into the window. She’s way more agile and limber than she looks.”
“About that white car, Verna. Did you notice what type of car it was?” Silly question, Marisa chided herself.
“It was a late model white Toyota Camry. When you and the skinny guy and this fella here—” Verna peered up at Parvis. “—took off in his Jeep, the car started and left right behind you.”
Verna looked Parvis up and down. “I must say, Marisa, I liked the young man in the glasses and baggy clothes better than this one or the skinny one that was here earlier. He was a polite, well-mannered man, and never made any snotty comments about my agility.” With that parting shot, she huffed out the door.
Parvis had to grab Marisa’s arm to keep her from going after the old lady.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Get back here, you handsome hunk of maintenance man! It’s time for you to dance with me...first on the dance floor...” Her long gray hair streaming behind her as she teetered across the planked restaurant floor on six-inch spike heels in hot pursuit of her quarry, the woman pulled off her long scarf, held an end in each hand, and threw the loop over the gray head of the portly man scampering ahead of her at top speed. “…and then at my place!” She tugged on the scarf, jerking the man backwards. Adroitly, she moved the scarf lower, pinning him against her front, her bony legs and scrawny body in its short black dress braced for impact.
Marisa transferred her glare from Tara, seated directly across from her under the dim restaurant lights, to the struggling couple. “Is that Carlos, our director of maintenance?”
“And is that Teresa Root, the maintenance secretary who has been on workers compensation for the past three months for back problems?” Tara’s eyes widened. “Wow, she’s pretty feisty for someone who is not able to work!”
Next to Tara, Brandon twisted in his chair. “Feisty is not the word.” He craned his neck. “Oh, look, she’s pursued Carlos from the dance floor to the eating area.”
“Good heavens, he’s escaped!” The black thundercloud, which had settled on Parvis’ face when the others had joined him and Marisa on what had been planned as a romantic date, was chased away by reluctant laughter.
“He’s heading this way!” Alex adroitly scooted his chair out of the way as Carlos veered over and circled their table like a race car driver spying the finish line at the Indy 500.
Shoving his chair back, Brandon stood and placed himself directly in the path of the excited fiftyish female. When she veered, he moved as well, keeping himself in her trajectory. Brandon grunted when she slammed into him. “Ms. Root! What a surprise!”
Teresa started to push him away. As she focused on his face, her spidery fingers clutched his arms. “Brandon Proctor, the guest services director! My, you’re looking handsome in your pink dress shirt and navy trousers!” She leaned over to inspect his behind. “Verrrry nice!” Teresa scanned the room. “As Carlos escapes my scarf, the next prey is captured!” Coyly, she snaked her scarf around his neck. “I ran into your mother. She’s so happy you’ve been dumped by the Widow Cranston. And so am I, since you’re ripe for some rebound...dancing!”
His mouth quirked, Brandon stared down at her, the dim light catching the charcoal stubble which traversed each of his jaw lines and circled up to meet at the center of his full lower lip. “I’m sorry, Teresa, I’m not on your to-do list. You’ve been working your way through the male members of the maintenance staff, and you nearly bagged Carlos, their director.”
Teresa pouted. “I can make an exception for you, Brandon, you young hottie pants!”
Brandon slowly shook his head back and forth. “Better take the time to work on damage control. You’ve been off work for months for an alleged workers compensation injury.”
The pout changed to a frown. “Alleged? I did get hurt at work.”
Brandon pursed his lips. “You and one of the plumbers were in the bathroom of an empty patient room. After flushing his system once with you braced on the toilet, he decided on a change. He tossed you up on the sink. You two were madly alternating between the hot and the cold when the sink broke, and you went crashing to the floor. As a result, you were injured during your work hours and in the workplace.”
Marisa jumped to her feet, her annoyance with Tara and her highhanded interference in her love life temporarily forgotten. “Teresa! Is that how you were hurt?”
The older woman whirled. “Marisa Adair, the human resources director! I didn’t see you over there.”
Brandon raised a hand. “No wonder. Marisa is female, Teresa.”
“Owww, my back!” Teresa bent over at the waist, her hand pressed to her back. “It comes and goes, you know, and it’s really in a spasm! I may need an ambulance!”
Brandon shooed her away as if she was a contrary chicken. “Go on home, Teresa. Marisa will deal with you next week.”
Her scarf trailing the floor like a chastened tail, Teresa limped toward the exit.
Ma
risa smiled at Brandon. “I think you’ve just saved the trauma hospital several thousand dollars in workers compensation expenses!”
Brandon flopped into his seat. “All in a day’s work for a student of human nature!”
Marisa leaned across the table. “Brandon, you’re an excellent judge of character. You generally avoid the missteps most of us can’t seem to avoid. So why are you dating Taylor from Tara’s online group?”
Tara put her arm along Brandon’s chair. “Yeah, Brandon, I don’t think she’s right for you. What happened to your romance with Amelia Cranston?”
The waiter circled the table with drink refills.
Surreptitiously, Marisa carefully used her thumbs on her cell phone. She texted to Tara: Why are you here?
When her pocket beeped, Tara pulled out her phone. Her thumbs flew. went by ur hse after shooting at gym on TV verna said u and Parvis going to steak hse
Marisa growled. That does not explain why you are here or why you dragged Brandon and Alex along with you! This is supposed to be my first real date with Parvis!
Tara’s brows rose as she met Marisa’s angry eyes across the table. She bent to her phone. ur a smart woman cant u c im the virus blocker
When she finally deciphered the cryptic message, Marisa’s mouth fell open and she nearly dropped her phone. Her phone beeped again.
parvo-virus not right 4 u tryin to protect u and keep u from havin regrets
Marisa sputtered. She wondered if she could land a kick on Tara’s shins.
Tara’s full mouth curved into a smile, her cascading curls tumbling across her shoulders like gold coins in free fall as she nodded across the table. She bowed her head over the phone. u dont have 2 thank me what R friends 4
As the waiter walked away, Brandon frowned. “Amelia kept coming up with obstacles to a long-term relationship. I might want children, and she can’t have any. She might get sick, and I’m not a nursemaid. She’s too old for me, and she won’t let me throw away my youth on her.” Unshed tears glittered in his eyes. “I had heard about Tara’s online group, and I decided to check it out. Online, Taylor came across as smart and intuitive. The woman at the gym today didn’t seem at all like the emails.”