a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure)

by Charles, L. j.

  “My point, exactly.” He shrugged, careless. “But then my work is either outside or in government offices. I’m not up on the latest in the business world.”

  Ms. Ghost reappeared and gestured for us to follow her. As we paraded down the hall I had the distinct impression it was only a matter of time before we disappeared into a different dimension. Eerie. Gave me the willies.

  There was a large semi-circular alcove cut into the left side of the hallway with a desk, telephone, and computer. The woman sitting behind the desk was slightly older than the receptionist, but she had the same black hair, done in a sleek bob, and the same cherry red lipstick. Must be a requirement to work here—red lips and black hair. North obviously went for the vampire look in his choice of personnel.

  She stood as we entered her alcove. Rail thin and slightly shorter than me, her lips curved in a plastic smile. “What can Mr. North help you with?”

  Her voice was low with a soft, monotonous rasp, like she didn’t use it much.

  “A house.” Quick and to the point. Not my usual style, but I didn’t want her to pick up on the way my body was quivering.

  “A consultation, then. I can fit you into Mr. North’s schedule in the next day or two if you’re interested in building a personal residence, but if you have a more complex construction issue, he doesn’t have any openings until after next week.”

  Mitch took the lead. “We’re interested in building a house.” He smiled at me with a very non-Mitch expression, a little sweet, a little simple, and a lot like he’d just love to spend as much money as possible on a house. Preferably more than it was worth.

  It must have been an effective ploy because Ms. Raspy Voice, who still hadn’t bothered to introduce herself, disappeared down the white hallway toward what I hoped was North’s office.

  I shivered.

  Mitch slid his arm around my shoulders and turned me into his shoulder. “We can leave any time, Sunshine. Just walk right out of here.”

  Ms. Raspy Voice came up behind us. “Mr. North will see you the day after tomorrow—”

  “Oh, no, that won’t do at all.” I added a bit of hysteria to my words. Easy to do considering the creepies crawling down my spine.

  She gave me another one of those plastic smiles. The Botox must have set her back a few thousand. “No?”

  Mitch opened his mouth, and I jabbed my elbow into his ribs. Next week didn’t fit with my plans or my curiosity. “Ms…”

  “Marcy Blaine. I’m Mr. North’s assistant.”

  I poured on the sugar. “Ms. Blaine, it would mean so much to us if Mr. North could make an exception since we’re here and all. We’re so excited about building our house and we heard that North Construction is just the very best around. Please, if you could ask him to see us for a few minutes. Mitch—” I glanced up at him with what I hoped were dewy, adoring eyes— “has to go out of town next week and won’t be back until next month. We’re going to have our engagement party then, and he’s planning to make a formal presentation of my ring…and everything is going to be so perfect. And we want to announce that we’ve started on our new home at the same time. I’m, we’re, really sorry to disturb him, but he is here in the office and so are we. If we could just meet with him for a few minutes it would mean ever so much to us.”

  I could feel Mitch fighting not to laugh and I really, really hoped he’d be successful because Marcy’s fingers had moved away from her keyboard. “He simply isn’t taking any appointments today due to the sudden death of a friend. Now what time would be good for the day after tomorrow?”

  She bent over her keyboard, fingers poised to type.

  I sniffed and delicately blotted my dry eyes with the tips of my fingers.

  Marcy wet her lips. And were tears pooling in her eyes? Her gaze fluttered over me. This was a southern woman who understood that The Wedding trumped death hands down.

  She sniffed, and then ran her hands down her thighs, straightening her skirt. “Well, I’ll ask if he’ll be willing to see you for a minute—just to get things started.”

  When she’d disappeared down the hall, Mitch sucked in a breath. “Sunshine, if I hadn’t heard that with my own ears I wouldn’t have believed it. So much BS. Such a tiny woman.”

  I winked.

  Marcy came back all smiles. “Mr. North will see you for a few minutes, but he’s expected at the funeral home to make arrangements. We’ll set up an actual appointment when Mr. Hunt—” her gaze crawled down Mitch’s body— “Mitchell, returns from his trip. This way please.”

  I slid my foot out to trip her, but Mitch hauled me against him. “Not a good move, Sunshine,” he whispered next to my ear.

  We followed her down the hall to a glass-walled office, the effect made me dizzy. It was like floating in space. A wave of nausea crept up from my belly and lodged in my throat. I swallowed and shifted my focus to North. He sat behind a shiny ebony desk, the picture of yuppie perfection—blond hair with just the right amount of shag, blue eyes, and whitened teeth.

  Marcy used her shoulder to push against the door separating us from North’s inner sanctum. It matched the one at the main entrance, the glass devoid of fingerprints. I reached out and planted my hand, leaving a perfect print.

  Mitch bit down on his lower lip.

  More foggy images of the receptionist with the Windex touched my awareness. Nothing else.

  We all mumbled socially correct greetings, and then North shook hands with Mitch. I was next. I’d been caught up in my debutante act, leaving handprints, and keeping the nausea at bay, and hadn’t thought ahead to the touching part of this encounter.

  I planted a smile on my face, offered North my right hand and braced the knuckles of my left hand on the edge of his desk—just in case I was hit with the image of him killing Jacobson.

  My fingers curled around his hand and pictures flashed across my mind. Some clear, some with gray edges. None of them made him a murderer. I sank into the chair Mitch had thoughtfully slid behind me, and reached for the reassuring warmth of his hand. Now that I was here and had a bunch of images to process, I was suddenly tongue-tied.

  Mitch filled the silence with an explanation about building our dream home and how happy we were. He managed to sound nothing like the Mitch I knew, which was good under the circumstances, but also bad because it sent me deeper into the eerie world of make-believe.

  He squeezed my hand. Steady and strong, the real Mitch shining through the fabrication of yuppie Mitch. Who knew the man was such a good actor?

  North was not at his best. Rumpled clothes, beads of sweat dotted his upper lip, and he kept clearing his throat and fiddling with the knot in his tie. He pulled out some drawings, scattered them across his desk. “Some of our current projects,” he said, running his hand over the array.

  Mitch leaned forward and focused on the pictures, all the while keeping up a patter of sympathetic comments about Jacobson’s death, mixed with a description of the type of home we were looking for.

  When I realized he was describing his house, I opened my mouth to add some design features from the property my parents had left me, and then promptly clamped down on my tongue. I couldn’t talk about my refuge. Not out loud. A shrink would say I haven’t accepted my parents’ death, even though it’s been ten years since I lost them. Only one person knew about the house. Tynan Pierce. But Pierce keeping a secret isn’t a problem. The man didn’t share his favorite flavor of ice cream, much less information of any importance.

  Mitch squeezed my hand. Hard. Brought me back to reality and I realized North was standing behind his desk, expectant. I filled the gap with a Julia Roberts smile, then added a society-girl simper to explain my vacant mind.

  It worked.

  Gave Mitch time to fill in the conversational gap so I could catch up with the discussion. Apparently, North suggested we look over some properties currently under construction and we were to stop by Marcy’s desk to collect the list of addresses.

  The goodbye ritua
l was over before I could blink, and then Marcy handed a sheet of paper to Mitch.

  She offered him her hand and a smile. And then she turned to me, arm outstretched. My fingers brushed her skin. Foggy images of her typing the addresses flashed on my internal monitor and fear slithered down my spine.

  What the heck was that about?

  It was just a list of properties.

  SEVEN

  “What did you see when you touched North?”

  I had to give him credit. Mitch waited until we were on our way to lunch before he asked. Gave me time to regroup.

  “He didn’t kill Jacobson.”

  “Okay,” he said, watching me carefully. “Keep talking.”

  I pulled my iPad out of my handbag. “North is creepy, and I want to get some notes down while I’m talking to you so I don’t lose any of my impressions.”

  “Your touch thing working okay?”

  I took another swallow of water and a deep breath, then let my mind go back to the sensations and images I picked up from North. “No. It’s fluctuating between normal and foggy with the gray edges.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Not great, but okay.” I shook off the worry. Now wasn’t the time to go postal about it, not with the North issue front and center on my to-do list.

  “The first thing I noticed wasn’t connected to my touch thing. The anxiety North was experiencing, you know, how he was sweating and the agitation he couldn’t seem to get under control.”

  Mitch steered around a semi that couldn’t get in gear and then nodded.

  “Well, for someone who selected the décor of that office, it didn’t make sense that he would be anything but collected. It threw me. Enough so I was off balance when we shook hands.”

  “You’re not typing.” He pointed at the blank iPad.

  “Yeah. Can’t seem to type and talk at the same time. North didn’t kill Jacobson, Mitch. Mostly what came through were images of Jacobson taking him under his wing. Seemed protective. Like a big brother.”

  I gave up trying to type and waved my hands around. “Until today, the difference in their ages didn’t register.”

  “How much difference?”

  “Annie said Jacobson graduated from college ten years before North. But I think there’s a bigger difference in their ages than that. More like twenty years. Maybe Jacobson didn’t go to college right after high school.”

  I tapped a few words into my North file. “In any case, they bonded through that club they both belong to.”

  Mitch quirked an eyebrow at me. “How’d you pick up those images? It’s been a while since either of them were in college.”

  “Pictures. North had been looking at photographs from the yearly TNT meetings. He stashed them in his top drawer just before Marcy brought us to his office.”

  “You’re talkin’ about that TNT club Annie found in her research?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t pick up any information on what it stands for. I think the usual explosive connotation fits, but I’m sure that isn’t the official meaning. Annie’s still working on it. I’m guessing we should have something definitive soon.”

  “Got it. What else did you pick up?”

  “There was an overwhelming sense of desperation in North. Images of him sobbing at the loss of Jacobson, frantically going through papers looking for something he’d lost. I’m not sure what that was all about, but it had to be really emotional or his thoughts wouldn’t have been clear to me. You know, I almost never pick up on what people are thinking.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, and I’m all kinds of grateful about that.”

  “What? You don’t want me invading your mind? Messing around in your personal stuff?” I shuddered. “That’d be worse for me than you. Way too much information.”

  Mitch gave me a lazy wink. “Might cut down on our foreplay if you were privy to my fantasies.”

  Heat spread to my girl parts. “Um. I like foreplay.”

  “Yeah. I noticed.”

  The heat spread to my cheeks. “About North. I’m going to suggest Adam put a tail on him. If he’s that desperate to find whatever he lost, maybe he’ll lead Adam to the killer.”

  “It’d help if you could tell Adam what North was looking for. You sure there wasn’t any clue?”

  “Not sure. I’ll play it back a few more times after I meditate and clear my head. North isn’t a nice man. That came through the touch, but there weren’t any images to back it up, just sensations about his superiority. He believes he’s above the law, heck, above everything. Made me queasy.”

  “Is that why you were fading in North’s office?”

  “Yeah. It’s always a little uncomfortable to have another person’s images flow through my mind, and someone like North is downright icky. Tends to whack me out.”

  Mitch’s fingers did a sharp tattoo against the steering wheel. “Don’t much like this part of your gift. Watching you turn gray and unresponsive, knowing there’s nothing I can do to make it better. Don’t. Like. It.”

  Chill bumps shot down my neck. Mitch in protective mode made me crazy. I understood it, but it still made me twitch. “Look, I know the whacked out parts of me can be unnerving, but they aren’t as bad for me as for you ’cause I have some control. I know the visions will end and can’t hurt me.”

  “You sure about that? Looked like you were one of the waking unconscious in North’s office. Scary.”

  I patted his thigh. “Yeah. Like I said, worse for you. I knew I wasn’t gonna pass out. The thing is, I can’t change who I am. Don’t want to, especially now that all these interesting things are happening in my life.”

  “Yeah. Dangerous.” He cupped my cheek for a second, then gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather cover groaned against the plastic. “Drives me crazy.”

  I tried for an innocent expression. It came out a grin. “I’m going to call Adam and fill him in on our meeting with North, see if he wants to follow up.”

  Adam didn’t thank me for the info. In fact, I had to hold the phone a foot away from my ear since the decibel level was pretty much off the chart. He had assigned someone to tail North though, so I knew he’d get over being angry with us, even if Mitch and I hadn’t exactly followed the rules.

  I cut a sidewise look at Mitch. “Do you think Adam is really mad or just acting like a big brother?”

  Blank look. Then Mitch’s eyebrows hiked up. “Adam is pissed. He cares about you and you stepped all over his rules. Oh, yeah. He’s pissed.”

  Mitch did a sudden brake for traffic, and I grabbed the dash. “I stepped all over his toes? Actually, you were right there with me. That’s why it was sensible, not dangerous. Granted, it was my idea and you wouldn’t have been anywhere near North’s office if I hadn’t suggested it, but we’re both guilty here. If anyone had told me not to go—”

  I stopped talking because I was about to tell a huge lie. Truth: I would have gone no matter what.

  Mitch pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant we’d been wanting to try, helped me out of the car, and then gave me a long, luscious, forget-about-lunch kiss that chased away any thoughts of North, weird college clubs, and dead bodies.

  He ran his thumb over my sensitive bottom lip. “We good?”

  I rested my forehead against his chest. “Yeah. You’ll always be overprotective, and I’ll always be impulsive. Have to accept those parts of each other even if they make us crazy.”

  “Working on it, Sunshine. Let’s go eat.”

  The atmosphere of the restaurant turned out to be on the romantic side with cozy booths and candlelight. We held hands, and fed each other bites of pasta, all the while weaving new threads into the tapestry of our relationship.

  We’d just parked in my driveway when Mitch’s phone rang. He checked caller ID and nuzzled my neck. “Go on up, Sunshine. I need to take this call.”

  Mitch’s phone rarely rang, and the sound settled in my stomach with the hollow bite of loneliness. It meant he was probably g
oing on assignment again. We’d gotten those new relationship threads stitched down just in time.

  He strolled into the kitchen, his expression bland, almost nonexistent. My neck went prickly. “What’s wrong. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  He nodded once. Curt. “Orders for my next assignment came through. I have to leave. Now. And you can’t…touch me. You understand what I’m saying here?”

  I interlaced my fingers and held on. Pain hollowed out my gut and knocked my heart into overtime. “I…yes.” Tears burned, but I didn’t let them escape. Not. One. “We knew this was going to happen, but I buried it, hoped it would be later rather than sooner.”

  Mitch shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  I smiled at him. Shaky. “I do denial really well. Can I ask you to be careful?”

  Mitch’s frozen features relaxed into a smile deep enough to bring out his dimple. “You mean like I always ask you to be careful?”

  I shook my head, tossing red curls into a frenzy. “No! Not like me at all. I mean for real. When I get into trouble, it’s stupid stuff. Too much curiosity. If you…if all hell breaks loose in your world…it could be…”

  “I’m planning on us having a life, Sunshine. No room in that plan for careless. This could be a long assignment, and I can’t call you. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  He ran his finger along my cheek, and before I could suck in a breath he was gone.

  The “empties” were gnawing a hole in my heart, and sitting around wasn’t gonna do a thing to make it better. I stripped out of my Southern Belle persona and tossed the clothes in the washer, added extra soap and doubled the rinse cycle. Really needed to wash the weird energy from North’s office out of my clothes. And my head. Too bad I couldn’t stuff my head in the washer.

  It was fortunate that I didn’t have any clients scheduled for this afternoon, and nothing pressing to take care of around the house. A challenge. Yep, I needed a challenge. Much better therapy for my heart than a crying jag fueled by a pint of Ben and Jerry’s finest.

  I pulled on my oldest, worn out jeans, the ones with holes in the knees, and a faded t-shirt. There were things to do. Important things. I ran down my mental list. A return trip to one of the construction sites? Nope. Didn’t feel right. Maybe a sneak visit to Jacobson’s office? Probably not a good idea until Adam took down the crime scene tape, especially since I’d already ticked him off enough for one day. There would be time and opportunity to practice my lock picking skills after the techs finished processing the murder site.