Protagonized

by Shannon Myers

  Her mystery guest was late, and she was slowly freezing to death on the fire escape. She wondered what it said about her intelligence that she’d shown up alone to meet a complete stranger for clues on a murder.

  A quick check of her cell phone revealed more missed calls and messages from Chad, but still nothing from Jake. It should’ve worried her, but when he’d gone undercover to bust up a local sex trafficking ring, there’d been no contact for over a month.

  She shoved the phone back into her pocket and retrieved the long lens camera from the backpack at her feet.

  Yellow tape cordoned off the entire balcony and there had been people coming and going since she arrived. Her view was limited to the balcony, and she briefly considered abandoning the plan and moving higher.

  Curiosity was the only thing that kept her from following through. She snapped some more photos and searched for her brother’s face in a sea of cops.

  A younger man in a suit split from the others and stood near the broken railing, seemingly staring off into space. He appeared to tower over everyone else and Jessa decided it was in the way he carried himself.

  He scanned the early morning skyline, back-lit by the light from the inside of the condo, and she documented it with each click of the shutter.

  Several strands of hair poked out in different directions. He’d either been woken up by a call to come to the crime scene or he’d been running his hands through it in frustration.

  He was young. It surprised her. With the exception of Jake, most of the detectives she’d met were older. Men who’d become jaded at a young age. Out of sheer boredom, Jessa studied his mannerisms.

  His muscular body indicated that he spent a lot of time in the gym and his hardened jawline just screamed that he didn’t take shit from anybody.

  Then he smiled, a slow sexy smile like something about the crime scene amused the hell out of him, and she realized that he was charming; and charming was more dangerous than a body built for brawling.

  One was in direct opposition to the other.

  He might’ve been the type to fetch coffee for his wife or girlfriend in the morning before running out to rescue puppies from the clutches of evil. It wouldn’t have made a difference to her.

  She’d had her fill of men just like him. A man who’d seduce the panties off a woman’s body before informing her that he was married and he wasn’t looking for anything serious.

  Detective Desirable turned and said something to another cop on the balcony before gesturing toward an adjacent building.

  With the sun coming up and her contact nowhere to be found, Jessa packed up her stuff and began the arduous descent back down. The pain in her calves and hamstrings, along with her irritation at being stood up yet again, increased with every step.

  She finally made it to the bottom and the soles of her boots hit the pavement below with a loud thud. When she straightened, she met the intense stare of Detective Desirable.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked with an easy smile.

  The smile was meant to disarm her. Instead, she took a step back, putting some distance between them.

  “So, you obviously saw me and now want to question my motives,” she stated with as much strength as she could muster.

  Her typical cases didn’t involve cops; well, at least where she was concerned. Whatever measures were taken by the affected parties after she left was out of her control.

  “It’s not illegal to be on a fire escape, you know,” Jessa added, pointing up toward the zigzagged appendage. In the early morning light, it looked less like a piece of architectural history and more like a steel death-trap.

  Detective Desirable flashed her another easy smile, one she didn’t return. “Actually, it’s considered trespassing, which is highly illegal.”

  She shifted the backpack higher onto her shoulder and moved to step around him. “Don’t you have a murder to solve?”

  He latched onto her arm and led her up against the bricks with a husky, “Not so fast. You seem to think you know why I’m here, but I don’t know why you are.”

  “I wanted pictures of the sunrise. Can I go now?” Jessa’s heart beat just a little too fast for her liking. Getting arrested was not in her plans for the day.

  The detective looked up at the building. “Funny, I don’t seem to remember the sunrise coming from a certain balcony. You were caught photographing an active crime scene; I’m going to need to see some ID.”

  “And I’m going to need to see a badge,” she retorted with a growl, before wrenching her arm free.

  “You mean this?” He flipped it open. “Detective Adam Keller. Your turn.”

  Knowing she’d definitely end up in jail if she didn’t comply, Jessa fished her driver’s license from the front pocket of the backpack and reluctantly handed it over to him.

  His eyes widened as he checked it over and his smug expression slipped.

  Good, she thought. Maybe he recognized her name. Her little business wasn’t much, but she stayed busy. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that a cop might know who she was.

  “Jessa… Hopkins. Any relation to Jake?” He was no longer smiling.

  She sighed. “He’s my brother. Why—what’d he tell you? That I can’t handle myself? I’ll have you know I’m here on official business—”

  Detective Keller held up a hand. “Stop. I need you to just listen to me. When’s the last time you spoke with your brother?”

  Jessa paused to think about it. “Last Tuesday? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night, but he’s not picking up. The last time—wait, why are you looking at me like that? You’re freaking me out.”

  “Ms. Hopkins, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

  Jake sat at my desk, reading over the manuscript for Angel of Death, while I sat on the couch, eyed glued to him. I’d been on pins and needles since he sat down but resisted the urge to ask what he thought, knowing it would only earn me a sarcastic remark.

  That wasn’t what had pulled the air from my lungs and kept me captivated for the last thirty minutes though.

  Jake was wearing glasses.

  Thick black rims, favored by hipsters the world over, rested on his perfect, upturned nose. Incidentally, they were the same style worn by geeks like me.

  If my damp panties were any indicator, then my sexual orientation had just become Jake in glasses.

  He made an odd sound of interest and I snapped to attention.

  “What? Find a grammatical error?” I teased before taking a sip of coffee.

  Look at how normal and unaffected I was acting.

  He turned to me and I sucked in a breath, so struck by him in glasses that I ended up inhaling the second sip. I began coughing and spluttering while he watched me amusedly.

  “Wrong. Way,” I croaked, pointing to my throat.

  “Apparently.” He looked at the screen and then back at me before clearing his throat. “I… I guess I have some questions with this.”

  I wiped my streaming eyes and nodded. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? I just thought I’d make Jessa more of a—”

  “Will you let me ask the questions?”

  I swallowed and nodded again. “Absolutely, Detective.”

  “You can’t even begin to fathom the things I’d do if I put my hands on you.”

  I was reminded of the conversation we’d left unfinished. He hadn’t mentioned it again, and I wasn’t going to bring it up. I was confused enough as it was.

  Sleep hadn’t come easy; every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jake holding himself up over me, his smug smirk on full display. When it wasn’t that, it was him on a date with Kamdyn, touching her hand, while watching my face for a reaction. Every bit of it made me twitchy.

  I wanted him.

  Desperately.

  And I hated myself for it.

  It wasn’t like we had great chemistry. We weren’t even capable of being in the same room without it turning into a fight. And I’d tried, but he just brought out t
he worst in me.

  I pulled myself from thoughts of self-loathing and tried to focus on his issues with my manuscript and not on the way his button-up shirt hugged his frame.

  “It’s good, Hayden. You’ve nailed Jessa—”

  “That doesn’t sound like an issue,” I pointed out. “Get to the bad stuff.”

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t want the compliment? Fine. I have a couple of issues with where this story is headed. If you’re running with the idea that my sister is about to find out I was thrown off a building, the chances of me making a reappearance are slim. How are you going to bring me back?”

  I curled my legs underneath me and gnawed absently at my lower lip. “I don’t know yet. I’m working on it though. Since we’re on the topic though, how are you going to keep me safe? I received a threatening email last night and Max—”

  “Max told me all about it and I’m working on it.” Jake rose to his feet and began pacing. It wasn’t something I’d written, but I knew it was something he did when he was thinking.

  “Well, when you can guarantee my safety, then I can guarantee your return to the story. How about that?” I sweetly asked, secretly enjoying the way his face began to take on a reddish tint.

  Jake clenched his jaw and nodded. “Oh, I’m keeping you safe, sweetheart. You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

  Bootsy tried to creep out from under the couch without either of us noticing. Obviously, she wanted no part in our ‘discussion.’ I put my coffee mug on the table and scooped her up into my arms.

  “I really should call and thank Max,” I said, stroking the black and white fur along Bootsy’s back and earning myself a head bunt. “If he hadn’t been here—”

  “If he hadn’t been here?” Jake roared. “You got an email; not a singing telegram from a gunman. I’m only a detective, but I’m fairly certain that your life wasn’t in danger at any point last night.”

  My hand moved up to Bootsy’s neck, and she began softly purring against my shirt. “I like Max. He’s very nice.”

  Jake smirked. “Well, he’s an assassin, so I’m not surprised. You both kill people for a living—sounds like you’re perfect for each other.”

  What kind of man carried treats in his pocket?

  An assassin, apparently.

  It actually made more sense than anything I’d come up with.

  I stopped petting and Bootsy immediately began nudging at my hand, urging me to continue. “What? I thought you said he was ex-military.”

  “He is—former Army Ranger, turned assassin. The name Max Grant doesn’t sound familiar to you?” Jake seemed to get as much pleasure from toying with me as I did with him.

  Max Grant…

  I turned the name over in my mind, trying to place it. There was something familiar about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what that something was.

  “Let’s try this,” he added, fully committed to taking me down. “The Killing Hour.”

  “Wasn’t that just in theaters? Is he an actor?” I had no idea.

  “Josephine Rothschild.”

  I frowned. “She’s an author, uh…” I wracked my brain frantically. “Oh, she writes crime thrillers!”

  He crossed his arms over his chest again and grinned, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “And?”

  Realization struck and I paled. “And her main character is Max Grant. No! How? You brought another fictional character out with you? Oh my god, he’s with Aaris!” I jumped up, sending Bootsy into the carpet. I ignored the pins and needles sensation in my legs and jogged toward the front door. “He’s an assassin—I told her he was real! She’s not safe.”

  Jake held out an arm and I ground to a halt before he could clothesline me. “Aaris is fine, I swear to you. And yes, I called in reinforcements once I knew your life was in danger.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “You brought more than him?” I hissed. “What is wrong with you?”

  He shrugged. “I have a few guys. Listen, it’s not really important. What is important is you telling me why, out of all the guys on the force, you chose Adam ‘Dickhead’ Keller for my sister?”

  “What’s wrong with Adam?”

  Jake rubbed at the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong with Adam? Where should I start? Oh, for starters, the guy’s a rule follower. Everything has to be by the book—”

  “What’s wrong with following the rules? Isn’t that like imperative to your job as a cop?” I interjected.

  He sank down onto the couch with a bitter laugh. Bootsy, completely oblivious to the tension in the room, jumped up into his lap for attention. His hand moved across her fur distractedly.

  “Jake,” I prodded. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s just such a goody-goody, you know? The guy’s this smug, virtuous prick whose idea of romance is reciting the penal code. I can’t stand him.”

  I cocked my head to the side, completely dumbfounded. “So, the nice guy thing isn’t an act?”

  Until a week ago, I assumed that every character I wrote was based on some version of me or the people I knew. It was perplexing to know that, in actuality, I was scripting someone’s life.

  There was no room for error.

  I had one surly detective on my hands, I didn’t need other characters getting the same idea.

  Jake stood up suddenly, sending Bootsy sliding back down to the carpet. She scowled at both of us before marching toward the bedroom, tail whipping back and forth.

  He sat back down at the desk and hunched over the keyboard. “Where is it?” He used the mouse to scroll up the screen. “Here. Going somewhere?” he asked with an easy smile. Okay, that is one-hundred percent Adam—always smiling. I bet he goes home and jacks off into a pair of handcuffs every night with a big grin on his face, because gosh dang, he just loves his job.”

  My lip curled up. “And how might one ‘jack off’ into a pair of handcuffs, Jake?”

  “Really, Hayden?” He rolled his eyes. “You need the logistics of that? I’m just saying that knowing Jessa, she’s going to eat him alive.”

  “Maybe they’ll be perfect for each other—the rebel and the rules guy. It’d make a great movie, don’t you think?”

  Jake shook his head and leaned over the desk again, rereading.

  My phone began playing the opening bars from Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’

  He cocked his head to the side with a raised brow. “Isn’t that a—”

  “Great way to alert me to text messages? Yes, yes it is.” I retrieved my phone from a couch cushion. Aaris. Right on cue.

  Who was that guy? Call me ASAP!

  My heart hammered in my chest as the phone rang. What if Max had hurt her? I’d let her leave with a man who murdered people for a living. What kind of friend was I?

  “Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay? You send me home with that guy and you want to know if I’m okay?” Her voice was laced with hysteria.

  “Aaris, I can explain—”

  “Sweetie, I want to marry that man and carry his babies. He takes me home and I was feeling, uh, amorous, if you will.” I cringed. Drunk Aaris would hump a light pole, something I had unfortunately witnessed on more than one occasion. “I used my best moves and do you know what he said?”

  Knowing what she considered her ‘best moves,’ I could only imagine. “No?”

  She giggled softly into the phone. “He said that I’d had a lot to drink and what seemed like a good idea now might not feel so good in the morning. And I thought he was blowing me off, but he had me drink this stuff that he swore would keep me from feeling hungover and put me to bed like a goddamn gentleman.”

  Jake gave me a look and I whispered, “Aaris,” before resuming my conversation. “Well, that sounds nice, but it doesn’t really explain why you’ve decided to marry him.”

  “He bri
ngs me home safely, refuses to sleep with me while I’m intoxicated, ensures that I get to bed safely and don’t wake up with a hangover and you’re confused?”

  “Well, when you put it like that. Have you told him any of this?” I asked hesitantly. The quickest way to lose a man was to tell him about your feelings.

  It was obvious by the way Jake was leaning over that he was no longer reading anything on my laptop and was instead listening in to my side of the conversation.

  “That’s the thing. I woke up this morning, feeling amazing, and he’s nowhere to be found. He did leave me a phone number though.”

  I debated whether to tell her what Max did for a living, but it had been a long time since I’d seen Aaris head over heels for anyone, minus Jeremy Piven, but he didn’t count.

  “Did you call him?”

  She sighed. “It wasn’t his number that he left…”

  “Okay… whose number was it?”

  “It was the number to the local AA. Isn’t that a sign?”

  A sign that she needed to stop drinking? Yes.

  “I mean, what kind of man leaves that information for someone he just met? A man who’s found the love of his life and wants to make sure she’s making good choices, I think.” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality and I winced, knowing that Max was probably long gone, leaving me to pick up the pieces of her soon-to-be shattered heart.

  “Um, don’t you have to work later?”

  She groaned. “Yeah.”

  “Well, try to get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”

  She agreed and I ended the call. Jake turned his head to the side. “She fell for Max?”

  I nodded. “It seems that way, which should be fun seeing as to how he’s not only fictional but a trained killer as well.”

  “I think Max has that effect on people. It’s why he’s good at what he does.” Jake was still standing, with his forearms resting on the desk. It was almost comical the way he’d folded himself in half instead of just sitting down in the chair.

  “You better watch it; if you keep hunching over like that, you’ll shrink down to six-five or,” I let out a mock gasp, “six-four before you know it.”