by Mary Calmes
"I went to his place tonight and he tried to get rid of me for an hour—said he had somewhere else he had to be. I told him I didn't care, I wanted to fix things with him. And he finally broke down and yelled at me. He told me that we were already broken up and that's why he had agreed to a date.
Somebody at work set him up and he was more interested in meeting some new guy than in talking it out with me."
"When did he break up with you?"
"Couple weeks ago."
I nodded. "I see."
"And he told me it wasn't even really a breakup since we'd basically just been dating. He never asked me for it to be exclusive or anything, I just assumed, ya know?"
"Sure."
"So I tried one last time tonight... I just wanted to be sure before I completely moved on."
"You wanted to make sure of what? That he didn't want you even after he said he didn't?"
"Yeah."
"What the fuck for? Have a little pride, Nicky. If some guy tells you to bounce, you do."
"Easy for you to say, Jory. Have you ever even been in love?"
"Have you?"
"Yeah, with you."
"And that ended damn fast when this guy Ray stepped into the picture," I reminded him. "You were very convincing when you said you were crazy about me but it went away."
"It didn't end, it just—"
"It was infatuation, so it died," I assured him. "You're in such a big hurry to share your life with someone that you hardly even care who it is."
"That's not true."
"I think it is," I told him, understanding finally that Nick was ready to settle down and the partner wasn't really all that important. He needed somebody on the front of the Christmas card with him. He wasn't picky. "You take care, Nicky."
"Jory, please don't—"
"I'll see ya," I said as I hung up. I felt sorry for him at the same time I knew that I was no one's door prize. When my phone rang again I answered before I turned to head back up front.
"Jory, honey, Ray just called and—"
I cut Dylan off and told her all about Chris's co-worker and my doctor. She listened a long time before she let out a deep exhale.
"It's hilarious, right?"
As there was only laughter on the line I got the idea that she agreed with me. I laughed right along with her. The world was actually a teeny tiny place and I was comic relief. I had always suspected as much.
Chapter Five
The following Friday night Dylan and I decided to have our happy-hour drinks at a new place. It was called Molly's Cool Dive Bar and we were having a good time throwing darts. We had been warned once that we were going to have to stop if more of them didn't start hitting the board. They were flying all over the place—pool tables and walls, into the drinks of other patrons. It was a bad idea, so we quit and just drank screwdrivers. It was not the kind of place that served a Cosmopolitan or a Mojito. It was either a screwdriver or a Tom Collins, for the alcohol that wasn't a beer or a shot.
Dylan dared me to take a shot of tequila with her and so of course by the time her husband showed up we were very happy to see him.
"Great," he groaned. "You're both drunk?"
"No," I assured him, shaking my head, trying very hard not to smile. "We're fine. We can go to dinner."
"All evidence to the contrary." He rolled his eyes at me as he pulled his wife to his feet. "Just neither one of you sing, all right?"
"I sing well," Dylan informed him solemnly.
"No, honey, ya really don't," he assured her, grabbing my bicep, tugging me off the barstool, sliding his arm around my neck to steady me before he reached for his wife. "But Jory can't either, as we all found out on Wednesday when we were out with Dane."
It had been a fun night. Dylan and I got tipsy on the house wine at Tulio's and over lasagna and chicken Tetrazzini that was served family-style, we sang from Mariah Carey's songbook. Chris had been mortified until he saw Dane's smile.
He made us shut up while we ate, but on the walk to the car, he encouraged both Dylan and I to let out our inner divas. It was funny and Chris now understood that Dane had an appreciation for the ridiculous and just truly liked me.
Whatever I did was okay.
"You know, Jory, for who Dane Harcourt is—he's a really cool guy."
"I know," I burped.
"Gross," he groaned and shoved me out the front door ahead of him and Dylan.
Dinner Date was an intimate little restaurant downtown that served a beer-based cheese fondue appetizer and had huge Long Island Iced Teas. I got one and so did Dylan, and Chris warned both of us not to spill. When a man appeared at the table we all looked up at him.
"Guys, this is Ray Alvarez, that blew us off last Saturday."
"That's not fair," he said quickly, and my head snapped up because the voice was so deep and warmed with a very mellifluous accent. "You must be Jory," he smiled down at me, holding out his hand for me to take. "It's good to finally put a face to the name."
I nodded as I shook his hand. "And you."
"I understand we both know Nick Sullivan."
"Yes," I said, realizing that he still had my hand.
He pointed at the booth. "Can I sit?"
"Sure," I told him as he released my hand, at the same time sliding into the seat beside me.
He turned to look at me. "So how long've you known Nick?"
"Close to a year."
"Oh, so longer than me."
"Yeah, but you had the whole relationship deal with him. "
He chuckled and I understood from where Nick's obsession had sprung. If you caught the eye of Ray Alvarez you wanted to keep it. And not because he was so drop-dead gorgeous, but his eyes were dark and liquid and the smile had that hint of naughty instead of nice and his voice just resonated inside of you. His hair was almost black, thick and straight, cut short in the back but longer on top. It looked soft and I had the urge to touch it and see.
"We went out a few times," he told me. "It didn't constitute a relationship."
I wasn't listening. "What?"
His smile was wide and under the table his knee bumped mine. "We're talking about Nick."
"Oh yeah."
He leaned his chin in his hand, studied my face, his eyes coming to rest on my mouth. I swallowed hard, realizing all of a sudden how long it had been since I'd been to bed with anyone. I felt the blood rush to my groin as he leaned closer to me.
"What are you guys drinking?" he asked, looking at my empty glass, smiling over at Dylan, "because it's huge, whatever it is."
"Long Island Iced Tea." She giggled, reaching across the table for his hand.
He squeezed it tight and smiled at her.
"I was mad at you for standing Jory up."
"Dy," I scolded her.
"No, it's okay," he told me, the smile there again. "I got stuck explaining things to Nick and I couldn't get out of there.
I really wanted to meet you that night and I hope you won't hold it against me."
"Sure," I nodded as Chris got up.
"I gotta move the car, guys, I'll be right back."
"I need to pee," Dylan announced as I scowled at her.
"What?"
"TMI," I reminded her. "Just 'hey guys I'll be right back' is sufficient."
"Oh don't be such a girl," she snapped at me as she scooted out of the booth.
"You guys are cute," Ray told me when I leaned back against the booth.
"I'm crazy about the girl," I said, rolling my head to look at him.
"Jory, could I take you to dinner tomorrow?"
"That's fast." I squinted at him.
"I like what I see," he said softly. "And I should feed you before I take you home."
"I'm going home with you?"
"After dinner tomorrow night, yes, you are."
"I see."
"I called Nick and he told me all about you. He says you're amazing in bed."
"And you trust him since you told him he was a lousy lay
?"
"True-true," he smiled wide. "But just because Nick is bad in bed doesn't mean he doesn't know what good is." He chuckled indulgently. "Besides, you're gorgeous, and I bet the rest of you is just as good. Aesthetics can go a long way."
I nodded, shifting away from him, sitting up straight.
"How old are you?"
He hadn't noticed my slow withdraw and that was fine with me. "I'm twenty-three. You?"
"I'm thirty," he nodded, looking me over like I was something he was thinking of buying. "And without breaking the nice mood we've got going here, can I ask you a question?"
What mood? "Go ahead." It wasn't his fault he was so conceited. He was hot and I was sure that everyone he'd ever given his attention to had probably treated it like a gift.
He took a quick breath. "We've both been with Nicky and I know he's versatile, so...." The inevitable trail off into silence as he searched my face.
"What?"
"Are you versatile too or do you have a preference?"
I had only ever been one way but I was not about to share that information. "Ray, I'm really flattered that you want to take me out, but unfortunately I'm busy tomorrow."
His smile faded just a bit. "Sunday then."
"How 'bout I call you?"
It took him a second to realize what I was saying. "Are you being serious? Are you blowing me off?"
I shrugged.
He scowled. "Are you drunk?"
"Little bit." I grinned. "But the whole one-night stand thing is just not appealing at all."
He stared into my eyes. "You're turning me down."
"Yeah."
"Me?"
I smiled wide. "Yeah."
He stared at me a minute before he got up and walked away. When Dylan and Chris returned to the table I was the only one there.
"Jory, where's—"
"Gone," I cut off my friend, smiling at her.
"But—"
"Guys." I smiled at both of them. "You're banned from ever trying to set me up again."
Chris pointed at his wife. "It was her idea."
I laughed at how quickly he'd ratted her out.
"Jory." She laughed, reaching for my hand across the table.
"Excuse me."
My head snapped up and I found myself looking at Sam Kage.
"I need to speak to you right now."
"Okay." I tried to breathe, sliding out of the booth, his presence and not the alcohol making me unsteady.
"C'mere," he almost growled at me.
"Jory," Dylan said quickly before I could step away from the table. "Who's this?"
"Oh, um, this is Detective Kage. Detective, these are my friends, Dylan and Chris Greer."
He nodded, his brows furrowing, the muscles in his jaw flexing hard. "Hello," he said quickly, his eyes flicking to mine.
"I'll be right back," I assured them before I walked directly out the front door to the street. I turned to face him and he was closer than I thought he would be. I took another step back to put more space between us.
He stared at me a long minute before he asked me how I was.
"I'm fine. You?"
He nodded. "I'm good."
I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. "What are you doing here?"
His own hands were buried in the pockets of his wool trench coat. "We have a problem."
"We meaning?"
"We meaning the department," he clarified.
"Okay."
"You know that night you saw Brian Minor kill that guy?"
"Of course." I shivered, partly from cold, partly from the memory.
"Well, do you remember the faces of any of the other guys?"
"Sure."
"Yeah, well," he exhaled sharply, "turns out one of those guys is a little more connected than we thought."
"I'm not following you."
"You know the last day you spent at my place... you remember that morning when you called me and I was already working?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well that morning I was actually at your old apartment. Turns out the manager rented it out right after you left to a young guy that looked a lot like you."
"Like me how?"
"Young, blond... I noticed it right off."
I forced a smile. "You're freaking me out a little. Just say whatever you—"
"Jory, somebody cut up the guy that looked like you at your old place and they made it clear that they thought it was you."
"How?"
"They wrote something on the wall."
"On the wall?" I trembled, swallowing hard. "With what?"
"Just—it was there, okay? It wasn't made to look like an accident. It was a message to us that they had gotten to you and meant as a warning to anyone else who might think about talking."
I nodded. "But it wasn't me."
"No."
"And everybody saw me in court."
"Right."
"Brian turned state's evidence, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did."
"Okay, so what does this—"
"It turns out that it was never about Brian."
"You lost me."
"There was another guy there the night Brian shot Saul Grant. "
"There were a lot of guys."
"Yeah, but one in particular was important. Brian's protege, Roman Ivanovich Michaelev."
"Protege?"
"Yeah. Roman was supposed to be learning Brian's business."
"Why?"
"Roman's father is actually Brian's boss."
"And so?"
"So Brian was never supposed to kill anybody and put Roman at risk."
"But he did."
"Yes, he did."
"Why?"
"'Cause Brian's an animal."
"Okay." I shrugged. "I have no idea who—"
"But he knows you, Jory, and now you're the only one that can tie him to that crime scene."
"There's Brian."
"There's not."
"What are you talking about?"
"The thing is everybody else who was in the house that night, including Brian, is now dead."
"Oh shit," I breathed out. "Brian's dead?"
"Yep. He was stabbed to death two weeks ago."
"I thought he was in the witness protection program or whatever?"
"He was."
"He was? So then—what? How does he get killed with people supposedly taking care of him?"
"It looks like we have a leak."
"You mean somebody told where Brian was."
"Right."
"Who?"
"If we knew that we wouldn't have a leak. I'd just be able to tell you who it was."
I nodded. "Okay, so what now?"
"Well, so you know you're the only one who was in the house when Brian Minor shot Saul Grant that's still breathing right now besides Roman."
"And he wants to kill me."
"Yes, he does."
"Why?"
"Because you saw him there, you can put him there, and—"
"But the only person who shot Saul was Brian. Everybody else just watched."
"Watching makes you an accessory, Jory, it doesn't make you innocent."
I nodded. "So Roman's still gonna try and kill me even though Brian is dead."
"Yes, because he's still being charged with a crime as long as you're around."
"Will I have to testify against him?"
"No, you already gave your statement. They expect him to take a plea."
"But meanwhile, if I happen to turn up dead, he walks."
"Right."
It took me a minute to digest it all. "So what now?"
"Well, last night there was some activity about you. No one knows where you are, seems you dropped out of sight."
"And?"
"And they're looking for you."
"To kill me."
"Yes."
I concentrated on breathing so I wouldn't hyperventilate.
He was studying me, his arms crossing ov
er his chest. "It was a nice touch, changing Keyes to Harcourt. Did you think of that or your boss?"
"Well, he's not my boss anymore. I changed jobs."
"Oh. You still live in the same place?"
"Yeah."
He nodded. "Well, so I don't suppose you'd let me place you in protective custody this time around?"
"Doesn't seem like it did Brian any good."
"No, it didn't," he conceded.
"So... no."
"Okay."
We stood in silence for long minutes.
"If Brian and Roman were friends, why did he kill Brian?"
"First, like I said, Brian put Roman in jeopardy by killing Saul with Roman right there, and second," he sighed, pulling his hair back from his face hard. "When it got right down to it, Brian was turning state's evidence. He would have buried Roman and his father."
I nodded.
"You get it, right?"
"Yeah," I told him staring down at my shoes.
"So you should—"
"Not get shot," I said to the ground.
"Yes. Try hard."
"Okay."
There was a long silence.
"I saw you last week, out with Dominic and your girl Maggie," I said to change the subject, raising my eyes to his.
"You did?"
"Yeah." I smiled at him.
"Why didn't you stop?"
"What would have been the point?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
I cleared my throat. "So listen, I'm freezing so I'm gonna go back in. It was good to see you and I really appreciate you finding me to tell me all this. I'll be careful."
"Good."
I pressed my lips together tight and stepped around him, nervous for whatever reason.
"Who was that guy I saw talking to you in the booth?"
I turned around to look at him.
"Jory?"
"What guy?"
"Earlier. There was a guy... who was he?"
"Oh... nobody."
"Nobody? He was sittin' awful close."
I made a face. "Some guy lookin' to get laid. I sent him on his way." I wondered how long he had been watching me before he came over to talk.
"You're not interested in gettin' laid?"
"I'm not interested in a one-night stand," I told him. "It ain't me."
"No?"
I grinned lazily. "It used to be me, I'll give you that, but not anymore."
He nodded. "Okay."
"Were your holidays good?" I asked, walking backwards, still facing him.
"They were. My folks are crazy about Maggie and her family's great."