His pulse rate returned to normal; so much for reason. He smiled. “That explains the rain jacket. Oops,” he lunged for the hammer as it slipped out of Zeke’s grasp and grabbed it just short of the boy’s toes. “Tell your mom what we saw this morning,” he said, setting the hammer out of reach.
“Us saw deer.” Zeke threw his arms open wide. “Yots and Yots.” He looked up at Jack. “Tell number.”
“We counted fifteen.”
“Fifteen, Mommie! From kitchen window! And me have pancakes wit eggs!”
At Jillian’s startled look, Jack said, under his breath, “Everything’s back in place. You’re low on syrup,” he added in a conversational tone. “I made some, but you should add it to your grocery list. By the way, Em sent over a basket of plums from her tree. We had a couple, the rest are in the fridge.”
“Em?” Jillian squeaked.
“Em says hi. She made us coffee while Larry found us the right plane in his workshop.”
“Me have coffee too!” Zeke exclaimed. “Me big boy!”
“My goodness,” Jillian murmured, trying to absorb all the sudden revelations; her outing to the neighbors, Jack’s casual acceptance of his position in her life, Zeke’s bubbly good spirits.
“I left some pancakes in the oven. I’ll set the screen door back on its hinges, then we can go do something. Preferably at his house. We should be finished in just a”—his phone rang. Pulling it out of his jeans pocket, he looked at the caller ID and scowled. “I have to take this.” If he didn’t answer Sarah would just keep calling until he did and no way he wanted to explain his ex-wife to Jillian. So he walked off the porch, Sam at his heels, and moved well away from the house before he hit the answer icon. Sarah was trouble with a capital T; hindsight was a bitch.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too.”
Jesus, that snippy tone. He should have run the first time he heard it. “It was a good morning. What do you want?” She didn’t call unless she was hitting him up for something.
“My new attorney says I should have received a lot more in the divorce settlement.”
“You’re joking. I gave you the house, the car, the boat, the place in Hawaii, the joint bank account, your creepy hairless cats. I got a few boxes your mother packed like shit. By the way, I still want my Super Bowl ring back.”
“I don’t know where it is. I told you that.”
“Whatever. If it comes on the market I’m pressing charges. Now I’d really like to rehash all the bullshit in our marriage but I’m busy. Is there more or is that it?”
“I mean it, Jack. I’m taking you to court for a revised settlement. My attorney says it’s a slam dunk.”
“Did you tell him or her that I caught you screwing Monty in our bed? No answer? I’ll take that as a negative.” California was a no-fault state, though, so it didn’t matter. “I’ll bet you didn’t tell’em that I’m represented by Wade Morgan either. Or if you did, maybe your counsel just wants to rack up charges to pay for his or her vacation house, yacht, expensive side piece. If you go to court it’s gonna cost you, not me. And your chances of winning against Wade are zero.”
“If he’s that good you wouldn’t have settled the way you did.”
“I kept him on a leash. This time I won’t.”
“Are you daring me to take you to court?”
He sighed. “No, I’m telling you to save your money.”
“You’re always so damned calm,” she snapped. “Maybe I don’t want to save my money. Maybe I want you to sweat a little, maybe”—
“Cut the crap, Sarah. I don’t sweat over chicken shit like this. I gotta go. Don’t call again.”
He slid his phone in his jeans’ pocket, took a couple long slow breaths, thanked whatever gods were out there that he was free of Sarah’s manipulations and started walking back to the house. Seriously, she spent more time juggling other people’s lives than a defensive coordinator on a losing team.
He’d never understood her motivation; it was such a waste of energy.
“Sorry, about that,” he said as he mounted the porch stairs, followed by his canine shadow. “I get a lot of stupid calls. Hey, Zeke, can you get me the screwdriver?” He smiled at Jillian, Sam’s cue that all was well; the pup flopped down on the floor. “We’re learning the names of tools. You got it. Great!” He took the screwdriver from Zeke. “Now let’s see about putting the screen door back up. You ready to help?”
Zeke gave his mother a grin. “Me help!” he said, standing very straight. “Me good worker.”
Jack ruffled the little boy’s blonde curls. “Yup, you’re the best. Show your mom what we planed off the bottom of the door.”
“Look, look!” Zeke pointed at the pile of wood curls on the porch. “Me did it!”
Jillian smiled. “I can see that. Good work.”
“Why don’t you go have breakfast while we’re putting up the door,” Jack said, his tone mild. “Then I was telling Zeke I have a telescope at my house he might like. You can see the whales way out at sea and even the craters on the moon at night. It’s up to you, of course,” he added at Jillian’s sudden stillness.
“Let me have a cup of coffee first. My brain doesn’t work without caffeine.”
“Sure,” he said, smoothly, checking off the first time he’d had a woman turn him down. “See you in five.” He didn’t take offense. He assumed the conversation on the discussion list had made her cautious.
Walking to the kitchen, Jillian was wondering why Jack was inviting them into his life. From what she’d seen on the local list serve network, Jack was always polite and accommodating, but he wasn’t exactly adjusting his schedule for any woman.
And after watching him on his recent phone call, overhearing fragments of it, his tone of voice in particular, it was obvious he was annoyed with the woman. Would he give her the same treatment a few days from now? Would he scowl when he saw her name come up on his caller ID?
Call her skeptical; she had reason enough.
Jack was the local stud.
Her history with men, one in particular, made her wary.
She had a son who would be hurt if he gained Jack’s friendship only to lose it.
And deep down she knew she already cared for him too much, which was incredibly stupid considering their very, very, very brief friendship.
She suddenly smiled as the fragrant smell of maple syrup invaded her nostrils. On the other hand, she decided, pushing open the door to the kitchen, a man who could cook, in addition to his superb, if notorious, talents in bed certainly topped her list of keepers. So really, why make a hasty decision; plenty of time to decide. And Zeke would enjoy the telescope.
It was amazing how easily obstacles could be dismissed when world-class sex was on the agenda. She experienced a tiny twinge of guilt at her ready acquiescence, tiny, the operative word--as in miniscule, hardly worth noticing. And seriously, coffee and food would help fire up her brain cells, still semi-comatose after an exceptional night of mind-blowing sex. A good, nutritious breakfast, some coffee to jump-start her drowsy senses and she’d be in a better position to view her options with clarity.
She was half-finished with her pancakes when Jack walked into the kitchen, with Zeke perched on his shoulders, and gave her breakfast a squinty-eyed glance. “Those pancakes look dry. Why don’t I make you some fresh ones at my house?”
She could have said, no.
She could have mentioned her myriad uncertainties, if not openly with Zeke there, discretely.
She could have said, “I was going to pickle beets today.”
“Come on, Jilly-bean,” Jack cajoled, nudging her from her daze. “Zeke, tell your mom, we’re waiting.”
Zeke squealed in delight. “Jiwee-beam, Jiwee-beam!” He leaned over and pulled Jack’s chin up so he could see Jack’s eyes. “Mommie me you Jiwee-beam?”
“Yup. Sweet as candy, that’s your mom.”
Really. The man could have charmed th
e birds from of the trees. “Okay,” she said, because he was smiling at her like she was the only woman in the world and let’s face it, she was a pushover when he smiled like that. “For a little while anyway.”
“Just pack a few things. In case Zeke falls asleep. You can stay over,” Jack added, keeping his voice deliberately bland; one step at a time when it came to explaining the need for security.
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Or we might decide to do something today, go somewhere.” His brows lifted slightly. “If not, Zeke can check out my telescope and toy box.” When Zeke instantly screamed “TOYS!” Jack figured he had a winner. “With so many younger siblings, I have a pretty good selection of toys.” He smiled at Jillian and beneath the ringing clamor of Zeke’s sing-song chant, Toys! Toys! Toys! said in a voice meant for her alone, “So what do you say, Mama Bear? Sound like a plan?”
“You do know how to tempt a woman.” Her voice was the same undertone, her smile intimate, uber-personal.
Eve in the Garden of Eden, he thought. “Speaking of temptation,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here.” A chin tip.
She grinned. “Am I supposed to do something?”
“Nothing difficult. Pack a couple things. Later tonight”—a killer smile—“we’ll kick it up a notch. Your call of course,” he said, super-relaxed.
When he damned well knew it wasn’t, she reflected, trying to ignore the fact that he was holding her son on his broad shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and the added, not-for-public-consumption fact that despite his quasi-dad vibe, he was still breathtakingly sexy.
“You really have toys?”
“Sure. You looking for any special kind?” he drawled.
She sniffed. “There’s a picture.”
“I’ll throw’em away.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Not a problem.”
A nibble on her bottom lip. “I don’t suppose—nah…”
“What?”
“Do you have any--like still in the box?”
Really, she was so fucking cute. Naïve as hell, but intrigued. “Maybe. Let’s check it out. Need any help packing?”
Chapter 35
Jack was strapping Zeke’s car seat into his SUV when his phone rang. A quick glance at Hans’s number, a muttered expletive, and he hit answer. “Give me a second.” Lifting Zeke into the car seat, he grabbed his iPad from the console, turned it on, hit the app for Elmo and handed it to the boy. “Follow Elmo.” He pointed. “See, press this button.”
After Zeke took up the sing-along chase, Jack stepped away a few paces. “Megan must have fucked up.” Hans wouldn’t have bothered him otherwise.
“Big time. The bitch called a friend of hers. Reception informed us someone was downstairs asking for Megan’s room number. We’re about to leave. I’m having Megan’s friend hustled out of her apartment too, just in case.”
“You took her phone away?”
“Busted it up and flushed it.”
“Wherever you stow her, rip out the phones, internet, everything.”
“Don’t worry. Dumb cunt.”
“Yeah, well, no one’s gonna call her that because I need her for a witness somewhere down the line. So don’t piss her off. You know Lucy’s, right?”
“The shop in Sausalito?”
“Yeah. Megan’s condo is too hot now to pack up her shit, so take her to Lucy’s after hours and she can get herself a new wardrobe. Tell her to pick out what she wants. Have Lucy bill me. And be nice, okay? She can seriously jeopardize Remington’s enterprise which is good for us, bad for him and he knows it.”
“Okay, okay, but I’m locking her up this time. Any problem with that?”
“Nope. Put her on the phone and I’ll explain to her that she has to follow instructions. Then give me a call when you’re settled and if necessary, I’ll repeat the message. She’s been trading on her looks too long. She doesn’t understand these guys would kill their own mother and kick back with a beer while the body was still warm.”
“I’ll call you once we’re safe. Watch your back.”
“Ray said they’re already trying to punch into my networks. So switch phones every few hours or use encryption.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m just sayin’ there’s huge money behind Remington and influence up the ass. Everyone has to stay on their toes.”
“You’re paying me to do that. Don’t worry. Scottie got word from the front desk the second they sent Remington’s guy packing. The next place we go is even more secure. You don’t want those two women together, do you?”
“No. See if Megan’s friend wants to go on an extended vacation. Now hand me over to Megan.”
“I don’t want to leave. I like this suite.” No hello, no good morning, just all pissy and put out. “You tell them! I’m not going anywhere!”
“Let me explain the situation.” Jack’s voice was controlled, his temper tamped down hard, her stupidity the reason they had to move. “Remington’s guy was downstairs looking for you. No matter how nice a suite you have, it’s not worth the risk of Remington’s thugs getting to you. They’d hurt you. Understand?”
“I never should have made a deal with you,” she muttered with a little sniff. “You didn’t say I’d be in danger.”
He had; she’d brought it up first. This was a no win argument. “I wish I could put you back in Remington’s office”--Jack paused, the words, sucking his dick unsaid, but not unheard. “Since I can’t,” he added, gently, “let’s move on. I’ll deliver what I promised. Better job, better pay, less hassle. Nothing’s changed. All you have to do is stay out of sight for a day or two. No calls, no texts, no reaching out to anyone. The friend you called wouldn’t have appreciated a visit from Remington’s goons.”
“Don’t tell me they would have”—
“You can bet on it. We’re moving her for her own safety, but you have to promise me no more calls.” A politesse only; Hans would see to it.
“Just a day or two?” Prickly and impatient.
Fucking beauty queens. “Absolutely,” he lied, not about to shatter her narcissistic world view and tell her how little she mattered to Remington with his swank lifestyle at risk. “Hans will take you to Lucy’s tonight. Get whatever you want. My treat.”
He could hear her smile even before she spoke. “That’s really nice of you.”
“My pleasure. You’re going out of your way for me. Friends?”
“Of course.” A flawless little purr, even a touch of apology coloring her tone. “I adore Lucy’s.”
“Good.” His voice was smooth as silk. “Say hi to Lucy from me. Now, let me talk to Hans.”
“We’re walking out the door,” Hans said. “Chopper’s on the roof.”
“One quick question. You still know that guy at the European Space Agency?”
“He’s had a couple warnings so his outside work is kaput. Want me to check if he can recommend someone?”
“Would you? It’s going to be hard to coordinate an attack with so many bad actors on stage.”
“And you like to work alone.”
“Not this time. I’m looking at a fucking cast of thousands. Have you heard from Chuck or Ava lately?”
“Want me to find them?”
“Please.”
“Might take a couple days. Last I heard they were in Peten.”
“Christ, let’s hope they’re still alive.”
“No shit. Gotta go.”
The timing couldn’t have been better; Zeke was waving the iPad at Jack and frowning. “Elmo stop.”
The image on the screen was frozen, so Jack rebooted the game. “There, fixed. Are you okay for a few minutes? I have to make another call.”
“Me find Elmo’s friend Dount Drkla again.”
“Press this button, see there he is. Now press here and he’ll sing for you.”
Jack waited until the singing began, then stepped away and called Ray.
Ray answered on the first ring. “We’re making progress.”
“Thanks. I’m taking Jillian and Zeke home with me. They’ll be safe; not that I’m telling her that. I need you to come over and show me what you’ve pulled together.”
“Want Wade? Strategy’s his strong suit.”
“He might have appointments.”
“He’ll cancel them. This shit is right up his alley: money transfers, off shore accounts, phony companies. No one can sort through the illegal maze like Wade.”
“True. Let’s say two-three hours. I don’t want to frighten Jillian. We’ll get there, settle in with her kid, maybe have lunch.”
Ray laughed. “You playing house? This I gotta see.”
“Just mind your manners. She’s normal, apple pie nice, and I like her and her kid. So be polite, respectful. Clear?”
Jack rarely pulled rank. “Yes, sir,” Ray murmured.
“Thanks,” Jack said, simply. “See you soon.”
Chapter 36
Matt Hayes turned from the window in Remington’s office, slid his phone back in his navy windbreaker pocket and gave his employer a grim nod. “Megan’s on the wind. She’s not as dumb as you thought. Rebecca whatshername’s gone too.”
“Don’t forget, Megan was dumb enough to phone her ex-roomie. I called that one.” Tapping phones was as easy as flipping a switch these days if you knew the right people. Remington did; in his business knowing your opponents’ strengths was good, knowing their weaknesses was indispensable. “The problem is Jack Morgan.” Tapping his pen on his desk top in a small impatient gesture, he muttered, “Who would have thought a cop drummed out of the LAPD had fucking money. My accountant said he thought everyone knew. Morgan’s Seahawks’ contract made national headlines.”
“The headlines I remember, just not the name. The news media referred to him by some ballsy nickname. It probably explains why his rep for racking up convictions in the LAPD is still up there in lights. And not white collar shit. Major drug deals, my contact says. He knows this business from the ground up. He’s not dirty, so there’s no leverage and he doesn’t play nice.”
“Certain people want him to go away. They’re not suggesting, they’re telling. Jack Morgan’s a goddamn rolling grenade. I assured them everything was under control.”
A Fine Balance Page 24