It Takes Two

by Sheridon Smythe

  "You little hypocrite,” he whispered roughly, but with an odd, underlying tenderness. “Wasn't it just last night you came running to me, believing Jordan was using drugs?"

  Justine flinched. She couldn't argue, damn him!

  "And yet I considered—only for a second, mind you—that Fowler might be telling the truth and suddenly I'm a monster? What does that make you? The child shows a little imagination and you think he's on drugs, yet I have an eyewitness that saw him come into my apartment!"

  He released her, as if he realized he might be hurting her. With a four-letter curse, he presented his back and jammed his fingers into his hair.

  "None of this shit makes sense,” he said. “Of course Jordan didn't clean up this mess. You should have seen it—water and flour everywhere. It would take more than one teenage boy to—” He broke off suddenly and muttered another indistinguishable curse.

  A moment ago, his brutal statements had forced Justine to take an honest look at herself; now her suspicions were aroused again. “What? What are you thinking?"

  He cast a weary glance at her over his shoulder. “Nothing. It's nothing. This is crazy. Ever since my arrival, nothing has been normal or sane in my life."

  The question was out before she could think. “Then why did you come here?” His smile, as weary and half-hearted as it was, made her heart trip. It was the kind of smile a man might flash at the woman he loved. But it wasn't real.

  "You can't be that naive, Justine. You know why I'm here. I'm a hopeless sap."

  She didn't want to hear this. She had promised herself that she wouldn't listen. “Don't,” she whispered.

  He arched a brow, his hazel eyes soft, yet pained as they gazed at her. “Don't, what? Don't tell you the truth? You know that eventually we'll have to talk about it—us. What are you afraid of?"

  She backed toward the door with every intention of running. “I don't want to hear it. Last—last night was a mistake.” There, she'd said what she'd came to say earlier. Why did it sound like a lie?

  Her fingers closed around the knob. It turned easily in her hand. What was she afraid of? She was confident there was no way in hell she was going to believe anything he said, so—

  "Last night was not a mistake. You call it lust, but it isn't. It wasn't then, and it isn't now.” He smiled faintly. “Not that I don't lust for you. Oh, yeah. I want you. Sometimes I want you so badly I can't sleep at night."

  A thrill of that same lust coursed through her body as his voice deepened persuasively. He was good. She knew he was good. She also knew it was a game. This time he would find that she wasn't so eager to play. Well, she was eager, but strong enough to resist. Wasn't she?

  A muffled screech made her jump. It sounded close, and was quickly followed by a frantic thumping noise. Her startled gaze met Zack's, and she saw that he had heard it too.

  "Dennis,” he said, striding to the hall closet. “I can't believe that I didn't notice he was gone.” He jerked open the door and the monkey came lunging out, screeching and baring his teeth. Dennis loped past them and jumped onto a chair. From there, he made an agile leap onto the ceiling fan, making it rock from the force of his landing. He wound his tail around the base and stared down at them with dark, accusing eyes.

  While Zack was distracted by the monkey's antics, Justine slipped out the door.

  In a burst of temper, Reuben struck the crystal ball with his wing and sent it skittering away. It fell to the cage floor and rolled into a corner. “I'm glad Jordan didn't stick around to see this,” he ground out. “I should have finished that blasted mortal when I had the chance!"

  "It's not our fault, darling. We had no idea Barry was watching when we went into Zack's apartment.” Mini retrieved her crystal ball and prudently tucked it beneath her wing.

  "We should have known he would be.” Reuben wasn't ready to be pacified. “We should have stopped at his door first."

  "And what could we have done? The spell of Forgetfulness would have been a waste of time. The moment we left the building he would have remembered."

  Reuben snarled an oath and stomped to the birdseed holder. He pecked angrily at the seeds. “He's weak. We could have easily destroyed his mind by revealing ourselves."

  Mini gasped, holding a wing to her breast. “Reuben! The witches’ council would banish both our powers if we had done something so horrible."

  "It would almost be worth it,” he muttered, carelessly scattering seeds in his search for something with a little flavor.

  He's beginning to care about the mortals, Mini thought, but he's not yet ready to admit it. Wisely hiding her delight over this discovery, Mini said, “We probably have nothing to worry about. Justine didn't believe Barry, and I don't think Zack did either."

  "Maybe not, but it aroused Zack's suspicion. If he starts digging—"

  "Zack doesn't want it to be Jordan anymore than Justine does. Mortals are easily persuaded when it's to their advantage. Besides, what if Zack does find out it was Jordan? Jordan did him a favor."

  Reuben cocked his head in her direction. “You're right. He did.” He chuckled. “Imagine how confused Zack will be."

  "Confusion seems to be the only thing we're accomplishing,” Mini said with a dispirited sigh. “We're blundering, then scrambling around to fix our blunders."

  "Mortals are more complicated than we thought."

  "Some are, anyway,” Mini agreed. “And just as stubborn as my warlock husband,” she added beneath her breath.

  "What's that?"

  Mini cleared her throat. “They're stubborn, as well."

  "Especially Justine."

  Feathers bristling, Mini approached her husband at the feed cup. Sometimes her husband could so be insensitive! “I don't blame her for being cautious. Considering what she believes about Zack, I'd be wary, too, if I were her."

  Reuben lifted his head, surprised by her attack. “Why can't she just give him another chance? She'd soon find out she was wrong about him."

  How many times did she have to explain before he'd get it through his thick bird skull? Mini wondered. “When Zack left the ship without a word—"

  "She thinks he didn't leave word,” Reuben corrected.

  "Okay.” Mini quickly counted to ten. “She thinks he didn't leave word. Not only that, but he waited a year to get in touch with her."

  "Yes, but he has a perfectly reasonable explanation for waiting. She just won't let him explain."

  "She will.” Mini wished she felt as confident as she sounded. The way things were going between the two mortals, their sentence would be over before Justine and Zack came to their senses. “I think we're going to need Jordan's help again,” she said.

  "Don't you think we've caused him enough trouble?"

  Mini couldn't resist teasing him. “Are you growing fond of the young mortal, darling?"

  Reuben scowled, looking flustered. “Of course not. I just feel responsible for him. What did you have in mind?"

  "I'll tell you over dinner.” Mini twitched her wingtip and murmured a brief chant.

  Eyes wide, Reuben started at the table she'd conjured, then at the plates of food...or something. He was almost afraid to ask. “What's that?"

  "A fruit feast. Dried crumbled bananas with raisins, chopped peanuts, and strawberry topping.” Rubbing her wings’ tips in anticipation, Mini took a seat and buried her beak in the mixture. She groaned in ecstasy. Strawberry juice dripped from her red beak.

  Reuben hopped closer, eyeing the concoction with lingering suspicion. “What are these green seeds sprinkled on top?"

  "Dill seeds. I have a craving for them.” She laughed at his horrified expression.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eighteen

  At noon on Sunday, Justine knew the moment she walked into her brother's house for the usual get-together dinner that something was wrong.

  It was too quiet.

  "Where are the boys?” she asked as Bea took her coat and led her into the warm ki
tchen.

  Dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater, Clay sat at the small dinette table drinking coffee and reading the Wall Street Journal. He glanced up and gave her a smile and a nod before quickly lowering his gaze to his paper again.

  Justine wasn't fooled by his bland smile; she smelled a setup.

  Bea handed Justine a roasted chicken on a platter. “They wanted pizza, so Clay sprung for it. Will you carry this into the dining room?"

  "Wonder whose idea that was,” Justine muttered, setting the platter on the table and returning for the peas and carrots. It was going to be a long dinner, and unless she misread the signs, the subject of her love life was going to stand in for the dessert.

  The moment Bea removed their plates and returned with coffee, Clay cleared his throat. Justine mentally and physically braced herself for the onslaught. That there would be one wasn't in doubt; how fierce was the question. More than ever, she wished her parents had not decided to move to Branson, Missouri after retirement last year. Since the move Clay seemed to have some silly idea that he should assume the role of her father.

  At times it was damned irritating. She suspected this would be one of those times.

  "Just how well do you know Zachary Wayne?"

  "Well enough.” So far so good. But Justine knew it wasn't over. “You should know him as well. He played pro football for the Miami Dolphins until his knee injury."

  Justine crossed her legs and settled in. She could tell by Clay's intense expression it was going to be a long chat. Bea fiddled with her coffee and remained silent. Justine didn't blame her for not wanting to get caught in the middle. She'd rather be mucking out cages.

  "Do you have any idea why he came to Cannon Bay?” Clay asked.

  A shaky question, but one Justine decided to answer honestly. “I really don't know.” It was true. Zack had implied she was the reason, but of course she didn't believe him.

  "You haven't considered that he might be dangerous?"

  "Why would I?” she countered.

  "He was arrested for attempted burglary."

  "Breaking and entering,” she corrected. “And it was a mistake. His landlord didn't press charges.” She'd gotten the information from Mac. She hadn't seen Zack since Tuesday night, but she'd gotten a check in the mail on Thursday for a thousand dollars. He'd wasted no time paying her back for the bond, and had apparently—Justine's heart gave a sharp twist at the thought—taken her at her word. “I would tell you what happened, but I don't think you would believe me."

  "Try me."

  With a doubtful shake of her head, Justine quickly related the bizarre story. She didn't, of course, mention Barry's accusations about Jordan, or the unsolved mystery of Zack's clean apartment. By the time she finished she realized the story was unbelievable enough without the addition.

  Clay was nodding his head, but he didn't look amused. Bea, on the other hand, shook with silent laughter. Justine smiled faintly. She might have also found it funny in the retelling if it hadn't been for that last little scene with Barry.

  "So that's his story?"

  "I have no reason to disbelieve it. Besides,” Justine chided, “I don't know anyone with enough imagination to make up a story like that, do you?” Her brother was silent for a moment, as if debating something.

  "You're not going to like what I'm going to tell you, Justine, but bear in mind that I did it because I love you and I'm worried about you."

  Justine tensed. “What did you do?"

  "I called in a few favors and had a friend run his fingerprints through the FBI—"

  "I could have saved you the trouble,” Justine interrupted coldly. “If you've guessed that I'm in love with Zack, then you guessed right. What you don't know is that I won't give him the chance to hurt me again. He's not a threat."

  "Don't you want to know what I found?"

  Exasperated, Justine glared at him. “Didn't you hear a word I've said? I don't care what he did! You wasted your time."

  "Clay, I don't think she wants to know,” Bea said.

  But Clay wore that stubborn look Justine recognized from childhood. He wouldn't rest until he said it, and he truly believed he was doing it for her own good. Sometimes big brothers were a pain in the ass, and this was one of those times, she decided.

  "She needs to know."

  "Go ahead.” Justine slapped her hand on the table. “Tell me before you burst."

  "He's been arrested before."

  Justine waited for the punch line. When Clay remained silent, she realized he was waiting for her to react. With a lift of her brow, she prompted, “And? That's it?"

  Clay frowned. “He was arrested for burglary."

  He was serious, Justine thought. He honestly believed she'd go into a seizure to learn that Zack had been arrested before. She asked because she knew he expected her to, not because she was curious. At least that's what she told herself. “Was he convicted?"

  "No. The charges were dropped."

  She wondered if he knew how disappointed he sounded. “And how old was he when this happened?"

  "Seventeen."

  "Tell me, Clay.” Justine leaned her elbows on the table. She loved her brother, but it was high time he realized she was a grown woman. “Would you be this interested in digging up dirt on Zack if he wasn't the coach who kicked your son from the football team?"

  Clay flinched. Bingo.

  "That was a low blow."

  "Well?” Justine persisted, deciding she might as well forge ahead. “Isn't it true?"

  "I'll get more coffee.” Bea jumped up and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Justine and Clay in the midst of a stare-down.

  It took a full sixty seconds of eye-burning contact before Clay looked away. Justine's victory felt hollow. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but to make him see his interference wasn't necessary, and to force him to consider his motives.

  Knowing she was on shaky ground, Justine tried to explain her feelings. “Clay, I knew Zack before he became Jordan's coach. Maybe he was wrong for taking Jordan off the team, but I think he believes he was right. I can't hate him for standing up for his beliefs.” Oh, how much easier it would be on her heart if she could!

  When Clay sighed, Justine knew the battle was over. She wasn't quite convinced she'd won, but she didn't think Clay had either. Checkmate.

  "I just don't want you to get hurt."

  "Like Jordan did?” she suggested gently. She flashed him a wan smile that quickly disappeared. “Believe me, I'm doing everything in my power to prevent that from happening.” No need to add that she'd had a couple of close calls.

  Bea came into the room with the coffee carafe. She paused, looking from one to the other. “Is it over?"

  Justine laughed at her hopeful expression. “Yes, it's over.” She glanced at Clay. “Isn't it?"

  Clay nodded, holding his cup in the air to give Bea easier access as she poured. “So, how did Jordan do at the store last week? His attitude seems to have improved."

  "He did fine, and I know what you mean about his attitude changing. It is definitely better.” Justine's relief matched her brother's in that regard.

  "Oh,” Bea said, snapping her fingers. “That reminds me. Jordan wanted me to ask you if he could work at the store a few afternoons a week, at least until the coach decides to let him back on the team. He wants to earn some extra money."

  "I could definitely use him. Chris is good with the customers and keeping up with our inventory, but Jordan has a special touch with the animals."

  Bea set the empty coffee carafe on the table and resumed her seat. “By the way, did Chris get his car fixed?"

  Completely clueless, Justine frowned. “I didn't know he was having car trouble. He didn't mention anything to me about it last Monday."

  "This happened Tuesday night, not long after you called,” Bea explained. “He called from Little House of Critters and asked Jordan to give him a ride home."

  With a jolt of surprise, Justine leaned forward. “Chris was at
my store Tuesday night?"

  "Yes.” She shook her head and sighed. “Jordan was gone so long I started to get worried that he had car trouble. I let him take my car, and you know how particular I am about it. He had to clean the floor mats afterward—said he'd stepped in something. God knows what."

  "She won't even let me drive it,” Clay complained. “But she lets a teenager."

  Bea shot him a tart look. “And why is that? I'll tell you why—because you drive like a maniac. We spent a fortune restoring that car, and I'm not about to let you ruin her."

  Neither seemed to noticed that Justine had grown very still, and she was glad. She suspected her face had drained of all color.

  Jordan had been out Tuesday night.

  "You leave me no choice,” Zack informed a subdued Dennis after entering his apartment Monday evening. He leaned over and scooped up another huge ball of stuffing, adding it to the growing pile in his arms. “I wasn't particularly fond of that chair, but this is the last straw."

  It took fifteen minutes to gather the rest of the stuffing scattered around the living room floor. There was even a pile of it in the fruit bowl—along with several mashed and mangled bananas. Zack tried shoving it back into the hole in the upholstery, but after a few seconds he realized it wasn't quite the same; it remained in one big lump instead of resuming its shape.

  The monkey observed him from his secure position on the ceiling fan. Occasionally, he shook his head and babbled a stream of nonsense, as if denying the charges.

  Zack knew better. Dumping the pile of stuffing in the undamaged seat of the chair, he straightened. “This wasn't my chair, you know. The apartment came furnished.” No doubt about it—he'd have to replace the chair.

  Dennis screeched, then fell silent and watchful.

  With grim determination, Zack brought the cage out of the bedroom closet and set it on the floor. He opened the cage door and pointed. “Get in there,” he ordered.

  The monkey, of course, didn't obey.

  "Fine. I'll just call Melissa. She's got a big tranquilizer shot with your name on it.” Zack was bluffing about calling the vet, but the monkey couldn't know. He seriously doubted the monkey understood him at all, but if there was one thing he'd learned this past week, it was that he should never underestimate the intelligence of a monkey.