The Debt Collector (Book 1 of a Jack Winchester Organized Crime Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series)
Page 11
“Forget it, I don’t mean to pry,” she said.
“She’s in a Behavioral Treatment Center.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, she had a problem with cutting herself.”
“Was it drug related?”
“No. Father related.”
She frowned, a look of confusion spreading across her face.
“I mean, she did get involved with drugs, but the cutting, as far they know, was her way of dealing with suppressed pain. Abuse.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, not exactly light conversation. I try not to bring it up.”
There was awkward silence for a moment. Thankfully, Sophie returned with their orders. Two coffees, a plate with the most insane chocolate cheesecake ever sold on the east coast, and two forks.
“I hope you don’t mind eating from one plate.”
She had a glint in her eye. Dana knew her well enough to know when she was playing her little matchmaking games. Somewhere inside her head, she had made the assumption that without Matt being around, Dana should be in the thick of the dating scene. It was if Sophie’s mind didn’t comprehend that Matt was missing. She assumed he had taken off with a young hussy, and if Dana had a smidgen of sense, she would toss her wedding ring and jump into the sack with the first guy who looked her way.
Dana narrowed her eyes, and that was all it took for Sophie to get the point. However, it didn’t stop her from smirking like a Cheshire cat.
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve had this more than one time?” Jack asked.
“Guilty. Yep, it’s my weakness, and Sophie’s is the best cheesecake in Rockland Cove. It beats those frozen ones that are full of water. Go on. Have a taste.”
Jack scooped a corner of it into his mouth, then nodded.
“Damn, that’s something else.”
“Good, right?”
“No seriously, it’s something else.”
He put a napkin to his mouth and removed it.
“What?”
She scooped up a piece.
“I wouldn’t do that, if—”
Too late. Dana mowed down on a large section of the cake only to spew it out onto the plate.
“Urgh! What the heck?”
“I told you.”
She grimaced as she scanned the room for Sophie. A quick gesture with her hand and Sophie hightailed it over.
“Isn’t it glorious?”
“Glorious? It’s mud.”
“What?”
Dana pointed to the cake with the tip of her fork.
“Soil, dirt, sod. It’s not cheesecake.”
Sophie bent at the waist and sniffed it.
“That bitch!” she yelled at the top of her voice. Heads turned before she calmly apologized, and encouraged everyone to continue.
“She did this to get back at me.”
“Who?” Dana asked.
“That dirty little redhead hussy.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Monique. I caught her trying to come onto Patrick out back, so I fired her. Patrick thought I was being a little harsh. He said it was harmless flirting.”
They both watched her pace back and forth, gripping her white apron with both fists.
“It wasn’t the first time. She was always cozying up to him, spending more time talking than cooking out back. I should have seen this coming. Damn it.”
“Well…” Dana tried to get a word in edgewise.
“He suggested I let her work until the end of the week, to collect her paycheck, you know? I wanted her gone that day, that moment. I shouldn’t have listened. She’s the one responsible. I am so sorry. Now I’ll have to check all the food. When I get my hands on that slut, I will wring her neck.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down, Sophie, it’s just a cake. She’s gone now. No harm done.”
“No harm!” she bellowed again. “What if you had been a health inspector, or God forbid one of those people who review cafés? Can you imagine? She could have had me closed down.”
Dana got up and gripped her friend by the shoulders. She wanted to slap her, but that would have been a tad drastic, even if Dana would have enjoyed it.
“Go back into the kitchen,” she mouthed to Sophie, with her back turned to Jack, who now had stepped outside and appeared to be on the phone.
Great! With the mention of his sister, now this happening. The whole night out was starting to take a nosedive into the abyss of despair, and she was pretty sure it was going to be a tough one to crawl out of.
When Jack returned to his seat, Dana hoped her face wasn’t showing the embarrassment she was feeling. She took a sip from her coffee, swallowing awkwardness with it.
“Sorry. I had to make a quick phone call.” He took a sip from his drink. “Your friend—she’s quite a fire cracker, isn’t she?”
He smiled and she suddenly felt any sense of weirdness melt.
Chapter 20
AFTER THEY FINISHED their coffee, Dana made a mental note to swing by Al’s antiques. It was only a few stores down. She thought it might offer a distraction from an evening that hadn’t exactly begun on the right foot.
She’d been on bad dates before—not that this was a date. She had to keep reminding herself that he was only a friend. More than a year had passed since Matt had been around. She had never entertained the thought that he could have ran off with someone else, but now she found herself wondering. Passing several store windows, she glanced briefly at herself, adjusting her hair. She wasn’t getting any younger, and, well, Matt had always been a few years younger than her. It wouldn’t have been a far stretch of the imagination to assume that he could have met someone in the city. Heck, it could have accounted for why he was such a jerk when he returned. Maybe whoever he had been with had poisoned his mind with dreams of them being together—a life away from responsibility. Maybe the drugs had made him think he was invincible. Who knew? She shook the thoughts from her mind, trying to just enjoy the evening.
The bell above the door let out a shrill sound as they entered.
“Al in?” Dana asked the young kid behind the counter.
“Al!” he hollered out back.
Al Bucklan was in his late seventies. A man who had been in the antiques business as long as, well, some of the antiques in his store. He had flyaway white hair, a thick peppered beard, and a patch over one eye. Being as they were on the coast, most assumed he had been a pirate before he was an antique dealer. Others who knew him knew that he lost the eye in the war.
“Dana, how lovely to see you.”
She pursed her lips together, trying to not show her amusement at his greeting.
“Al, I want you to meet a friend. He’s in the antiques business as well.”
His one eye lit up. “Ah, well, any friend of Dana’s is a friend of mine. What neck of the woods are you from?”
“The Big Apple.”
He nodded, scanning Jack up and down as if instinctively trying to gauge his worth.
“Well—come, come. Let me give you the tour.”
He shuffled his way around a series of large wooden shelves. The place smelled musty, as if it hadn’t seen a clean cloth since opening. The walls had been stripped back to the stone, and every nook and cranny overflowed with ancient knick-knacks.
“Impressive place you’ve got here,” Jack said.
“Ah, it’s not the nicest—you know, as nice as those other stores—but we carry antiques that will send a shiver up your spine and curl your toes.”
He was right. Folks who had lived in Rockland Cove since they were kids knew that Al’s store was the first. That was until others moved in and set up shop. He’d never let it bother him. He carried himself with a quiet confidence that seemed to attract people to his store. Dana rarely saw it empty. Al reminded her of a wise old man, the kind that retreated into the forest when they were crippled and grew tired of life and people. But that was never the case with him. Despite his age, it didn’t look like anything wou
ld slow him down.
“So tell me, Jack. Are you in the buying or selling business?”
“A little of both, but buying more than anything.”
“Maybe I can interest you in a few rare items that I don’t have out on display. I have contemplated putting them out, but I just can’t seem to part with them. The thought of them sitting in some young couple’s house and being mauled by a child makes me cringe.”
Dana glanced at Jack, who looked as if he was about to object but decided otherwise.
Al led them to a room out back. It looked like a woodworking room, a place for repairs. The smell of oil, dust, and history danced together.
“Now where did I put it?”
He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts. The first time she’d met him as a child, he’d been standing so still she’d thought he was a manikin. She couldn’t see his chest rising and falling, or the mischief in his beady eye. It nearly stopped her heart when he moved. Even today, it still gave her the willies.
“Ah, yes.”
Pulling out a large box from underneath a workbench, he heaved it up on to the bench. He took out a knife from his top pocket and pierced the thick tape that sealed the edges.
Pulling back the cardboard and sliding his hand into the mounds of white, popcorn-shaped filler, he retrieved an iron statue of a female with a snake coiled around it figure.
“Guess the age?” he said.
Jack ummed and arghed.
“Fifty A.D. Can you believe it?”
“Now where an earth would you get that from, Al?” Dana asked.
“You are never going to believe this. A yard sale. You know how much I paid?”
“Hundred dollars?”
“Twenty. You know how much this is worth?”
They shook their heads.
“Come on Jack, you should know this.”
“I’m a little rusty on Greek artifacts.”
“Over three hundred thousand dollars.”
“And you never said anything to them?” Dana asked.
“Dana, I’m in business. If they aren’t smart enough to figure this out, then they don’t deserve to have it.” He admired it fondly as if it was some kind of award he’d won.
“So how much are you going to sell it to Jack for?”
Jack raised his hand, but before he could utter a single word, Al had placed it back into the box.
“Nope. I can’t do it. It’s too valuable.”
Dana and Jack looked at each other, exchanging an amused smile. Jack almost looked relieved. They listened to Al mutter to himself as he taped it back up and returned it to the exact spot he’d retrieved it from. Afterward he led them back out.
“You are free to look around the store. Anything else, I’ll give you a good deal on. Though anything down in this aisle, here, is off limits. I have buyers coming in from out of state for this. I’m betting it’s going to net me a nice little sum.”
“Enough to quit, Al?”
“Never. They will have to drag my old bones out of this place.”
Dana grinned as Al disappeared out the back again without another word.
“Odd.”
“Indeed,” Dana said.
“He takes all the trouble to show us, and then opts not to sell.”
“Did you really not know it’s worth?”
“No. I knew; I just didn’t want to steal his limelight.”
Jack continued ahead, wandering out of the store.
Dana waited a moment, chewing over his response before following him.
Chapter 21
AFTER LEAVING Luanne’s Lobster Hut, Dana casually suggested walking off the heaviness of the meal by heading down to the shoreline. Misty Beach was a popular spot for folks in the town, offering a boardwalk that ran for seven miles parallel to its beautiful white sand and rockier areas. Tourists and local families flocked there, not just to bathe in the pristine waters, but because of Moor Pier. The pier was a centerpiece that extended nearly five hundred feet out over the Gulf of Maine. At the height the summer, it was an ocean of faces: hotdog and ice-cream stands, umbrellas, chairs, parents chasing after their kids, and feet covered in sand.
As they walked together, Dana noticed that she had barely thought about Matt over the course of the evening. She also realized that her attraction to Jack had only grown stronger over the past few days. While she hadn’t previously contemplated sleeping with him since she barely knew him, the idea had crossed her mind several times over the course of the evening. She was only human, after all, given to desires and needs that hadn’t been met in a long time. It had been over a year since she’d seen Matt and many more since she’d felt any sense of love, she told herself. By all accounts, she had resolved that he was dead. Not as way to justify moving on, but as a means to cope.
But at what point did someone move on? Surely it was different for each person. She hadn’t been with anyone else besides Matt. That is, except for twice in college, and even then those encounters hadn’t exactly been much more than a young girl exploring her sexuality in a drunken binge. Maybe she just didn’t think of herself as someone who could just have casual sex. Not that she didn’t crave a man’s touch. There just hadn’t been a time that she could remember where opportunity for it had arisen.
Life’s demands had always gotten in the way.
Then again, it wasn’t like she was getting any younger. She tried to convince herself that this was how people met. Random strangers. It wasn’t much different than those who met someone through a dating site, was it?
She pushed the thought of it all from her mind, trying to keep things in perspective. It was simply dinner. Nothing more. Two people enjoying each other’s company. Wasn’t it? One thing was for sure: She wasn’t much good at discerning the intention of the opposite sex.
Once they had reached the sandy wooden boardwalk, Dana removed her flip-flops to feel grains of sand between her toes. The smell of salt permeated the air. A dark orange stretched across the horizon as they watched the tide rise and fall. Despite it being a warm night, dark clouds moving in from the west looked ominous, threatening bad weather. They passed boutiques, restaurants, and ice cream parlors.
For the most part they had walked in silence, taking in the sights and sounds. She was aware of how comfortable it felt even when they didn’t speak, as if there was no urge to fill in the gaps. A cool breeze brushed against her skin, reminding her that it was probably best they didn’t stay out too long. Weather changed fast along the coastline. One moment it could be bright and sunny, not a cloud in sight, while the next tourists would dash for their cars holding their jackets above their heads. It was that unpredictability that she liked. There was never a dull moment.
“You cold?” Jack asked her.
“A little.”
“Here,” he said, taking off his jacket and offering it to her.
She waved him off. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“It’s a jacket. Not a marriage proposal.”
She let out a laugh and allowed him to wrap it loosely around her shoulders. They continued watching the waves kiss the shoreline. Several couples started making their way back, seemingly sensing a change in the weather.
“You don’t speak much about your husband.”
She dropped her chin. “Not really a lot to say.”
He must have picked up on the reservation in the tone of her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It just strikes me as odd that there aren’t many photos in the home.”
“The few we had are stashed in the attic. After that night, it hurt too much to keep them around.”
“Did he and Frank get along?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“The way he spoke about him.”
“They…um…had their differences. Matt had earned a reputation for running with the wrong crowd. Frank was always heavy about how his actions carried repercussions that extended beyond him. He knew people talked.”
“About what?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
There was a moment of silence.
“By the way, that’s a nice dress you’ve got on.”
She lifted an eyebrow and returned a smile. “Smooth.”
He smirked.
She shivered as a few drops of rain began to fall. Within seconds, they found themselves dashing for cover from a downpour. Having walked a distance from the Lobster Hut, they took shelter below a pavilion. Joining a young Asian couple who were huddled together, they shook the rain from their hair and clothes. The rain pelted down in sheets, turning the boardwalk almost instantly into a shallow, moving stream.
Dana noticed the couple opposite of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She had to admit it kind of made her feel uncomfortable. She had an urge to tell them to get a room, preferably at her motel. Turning her back to them, she did her best to not listen to their slurping noises. Jack, however, appeared to find it amusing. She eventually found herself seeing the funny side to their situation. Out of all of the pavilions along the seven-mile stretch, they had wound up with two Asian nymphomaniacs.
“Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
Dana turned around to find the young male thrusting his oversized Nikon camera toward her. Thankfully that was the only thing he was thrusting.
“Sure.”
After taking the photo she handed it back.
“Would you like me to take a photo of you both?”
Dana screwed up her face as if they would know. “Oh, uh, we’re not together.”
As she said it, she glanced at Jack, who was already in the process of handing the guy his cellphone.
“For memory’s sake. Who knows when I’ll be back this way?”
“Okay,” she stretched the word out moving toward him yet keeping an acceptable distance. It was then that she caught the scent of his cologne. He smelled good; almost too good. She felt her stomach turn within her. As he wrapped a strong arm around her and brought her in close, her guard dropped. He unnerved her, but she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was doing anything that was out of bounds. It was a photo. Get a grip, she told herself. It was just that she was aware of her attraction to him. He wasn’t seeing anyone, at least from what he had told her. But the thought of getting drawn into a short-lived fling with a stranger only to never see him again was a disappointment she didn’t want to experience. Was he that? A stranger? At what point did a person become more?