Love Money

by Jami Wagner

  One thing I expected as an undercover cop was more action, but more often than not, I’m waiting around for a gun to go off, for a meth, cocaine, heroin, or whatever sale—anything really that can prove a conviction to toss these sorry assholes in jail.

  And now, I wait some more.

  Chapter Four

  Charlie

  Tuesday comes fast. The second soccer practice for Sam, and I’m already here. It’s one perk of moving. The bank I worked for had an opening in Casper. My transfer paperwork for a personal banker position didn’t take long to process, and knowing what I’m doing on a day-to-day basis means leaving on time or, in today’s case, early.

  I won’t even try to convince myself that I’m not hopeful Jett will be at the boys’ soccer practice. Jett is fresh air. He knows nothing about me or Sam. He has no idea the kind of life we used to live, and I have the feeling he wouldn’t care if he did know. But I still don’t think I’ll tell him.

  What am I even thinking right now? Of course, I’m not going to tell him. No matter how much I enjoy looking at him or flirting with him, I’m not going to date him, so there’s no need to tell him. Easy as that.

  “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you to be here for a while. Did you get out of work early?” Whit asks as I take a seat next to her on the grass.

  “Yes,” I say. Short and sweet.

  “Isn’t it nice having a job that understands being a single mom?” she says. “Look how fine their coach is.”

  “I swing my gaze to the man blowing the whistle. He’s tall, blonde, and built. He’s not bad. But also not my type.

  “He’s cute,” I say.

  “Let me guess, your type is six feet tall. Black shaggy hair, jeans, T-shirt and a backward cap type of guy who has a pretty awesome sister and nephew.”

  I laugh. “Maybe.”

  “I knew it!”

  “What?” I ask, flinching as she shouts.

  “You like my brother.”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, yeah, he’s your brother. Isn’t that a guaranteed ‘I have to like him’ deal since we are friends?”

  “That’s not the type of like I was talking about and you know it.”

  I nod and take a breath. I’ve never really considered how my developing any kind of feelings for Jett would affect Whit.

  “Does that bother you?” I ask. I mean, I should know this, right? Just in case.

  She doesn’t answer right away. She looks at me, scrunches her mouth to the side and then looks at the group of huddled boys.

  “Yes and no,” she finally says.

  I don’t even know where to begin with that answer. Luckily, she doesn’t make me wait long to find out.

  “I love my brother, and I think he is great guy and I actually think he could make you very happy. I also think the same of you for him. I just … I’m not sure right now is the right time for him.”

  Well, that’s not confusing or anything. I want to ask her more but don’t. Instead, I settle with, “Okay, but he asked me out a couple of days ago and I said maybe, but I’m going to say no.”

  “Oh, seriously? When did you see him? I thought he was working,” she asks and locks her eyes on me, clearly focused on my answer.

  “I saw him on Saturday at the college. He was meeting someone.”

  “Did he say who?”

  “No, we saw each other for maybe five minutes.”

  “Well, dang. He didn’t waste any time asking you out then.”

  I shake my head and smile.

  “What classes are you taking?” she asks.

  None now, thanks to Clint.

  “I decided to wait till next semester,” I say and sigh. “Moving home was enough to process; I figure adding in classes right now is too much on my plate. I need less stress, not more.”

  Which, again, because of Clint has yet to happen.

  “I think you should date my brother … just not right now,” Whit says, evidently returning us to the topic of her brother.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know, but honest friends make life less stressful, and so I’m being honest.”

  I nod, thinking of how this honesty thing should work both ways.

  “Okay, well then, maybe you should know that he kissed me the night before he asked me out.”

  “Oh my gosh!” she says through a laugh.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy crap. I had no idea you could smile that big,” Whit says, her voice high with excitement.

  “Stop, I am not.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

  “What else has happened between you and my brother?” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I knew he liked you. I knew it the moment I saw you two talking in the parking lot before we met.”

  “Really?”

  She saw us?

  “Trust me, I know my brother way better than he thinks I do.”

  I laugh at her pleased smile.

  Whit groans, loudly. “All right, look.” She twists to face me. “I only say right now isn’t a good time for him because he works a lot. Like a ridiculous amount, and if you can get past the random meets, the late-night calls, and all the other intensity bullshit that comes with his job, then great, go for it. I support it.”

  My phone chirps from inside my purse. I twist to pull it out and read it before I respond to her.

  My heart stills at the unrecognizable number. My entire body goes stiff when a picture of Sam on the field appears on my screen.

  “Are you okay?” Whit asks.

  “Yeah,” I answer quickly, scanning the field. My real answer is, no, I’m not okay.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost,” she says.

  “I’m fine.” I take a deep breath. It’s probably just Clint trying to scare me. It’s working, but that’s all it is. A scare.

  “Is this about what I said?” she asks, concern written all over her face.

  “No.”

  “You swear?”

  The coach blows his whistle that practice is over and I jump up.

  “I’ll see you back at the apartment,” I say, marching right for Sam and surveying every area around us; the kids running to gather around the snack cooler, the parents packing up their belongings, and the families off in the distance playing on the playground equipment. Nothing screams “I just took a picture of your kid and sent it to you to scare you.”

  “What wrong?” Sam asks when I reach him.

  “It’s time to go,” I tell him.

  He grabs his backpack, not asking a single question.

  “It’s everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I lie.

  I just need to get him home and get him safe. Then … then I don’t know, but sticking around for someone to keep following us is not in my plans. Not now. Not ever.

  Jett

  Work’s been a crazy bunch of pointless bullshit the last few days, but for some reason Clint has wanted me everywhere he goes and I haven’t had time to do anything that isn’t related to work. And when you have a woman on the brain, well, for me, it makes focusing extremely hard.

  The worst part, not a single moment that I’ve been with Clint has he mentioned any deal, anything about his stash of drugs, or anything about Jimmy. It’s starting to really piss me off. He said he needed to meet a friend. Wasn’t that friend Jimmy?

  Clint waves me over to him as I step out of my car. He’s the only guy sitting on the benches outside the freshman dorms, again. I’m going to have to convince him that the freshmen aren’t the right people to target. I’ll tell him it’s because they don’t have money, that we need to sell to people who can afford to be a reoccurring customer. It’s lame, I know, but when I know he’s hiding at least twelve kilograms of cocaine somewhere, he needs to think I have a larger desire to sell much more than marijuana. That, and I shouldn’t need to remind him about the last time he sold drugs on campus. If he’s locked up for weed, I’ll never finish this case.


  “You know, I’m thinking I should have really given the college thing a try,” he says when I sit down next to him.

  “Oh yeah, why?” I ask.

  “The women,” he answers. “I think I would have gotten laid a lot more had I actually attended classes. Women dig a smart man.”

  Three girls walk by and I keep my focus on the sidewalk as Clint makes some sort of throat call at them. None of the girls say anything as they pass.

  “Fucking teases, all of them,” Clint says, glaring at their backs.

  So much for that college idea.

  I side-eye him. The first assignment I ever had involved a man who physically abused his girlfriend, and I’ll be damned if I let another assignment hurt someone in front of me again. Between Clint’s scowl and the way he just treated those girls, I’ll really enjoy that victory beer when he's behind bars.

  “You didn’t want in on that?” he asks, pointing at the girls. We are still on that topic, it seems.

  “Not really, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”

  He nods, slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that’s a smart idea. The women here are just fresh.”

  What the fuck does that even mean?

  “Are we working or what?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we’re working,” he snaps.

  We sit here for a few more minutes while Clint messes around on his phone and takes pictures of random woman as they pass. Me, I find the bottom of my shoe more exciting before I finally ask, “Is this how you work now?”

  “When you’re trying to keep a low profile, yeah, it’s best the work comes to us, we don’t go to it.”

  I laugh.

  “And that’s the exact reason why I drive a lit Jeep and you have duct tape over your driver’s window,” I say.

  “You think I don’t know how to sell drugs?” he asks.

  “Small time maybe, but anything more, I’m questioning it.”

  Clint jumps up off the bench. He pokes my chest with his finger.

  “Listen here, don’t fucking test me.”

  I raise my hands as if I am surrendering.

  “You want a big deal?” he asks.

  “Better than this petty shit,” I answer. “Yeah.”

  “Meet me at my place. I’ll text you the time.”

  He backs away slowly. We always meet at his place or the club to discuss something. I should bug his apartment. Risky, yes, but I could get a lot more information that way.

  “That’s all I get?” I ask.

  “I never know how to take your eagerness.” He pauses. “Have patience. Good things take patience, Jay.”

  Don’t I know it. This job takes more than I ever thought possible.

  Chapter Five

  Charlie

  I’m running late. I dreamt about Jett last night. Oh gosh, it’s only been a few days since I saw him, but still. We were back in the campus hallway and this time when he leaned against the wall in front of me, he kissed me instead of flirting. Then he pressed me against the wall and I don’t remember much after that, but it felt so real my body is already warming at the thought of it and it was clearly good enough to let me sleep through my alarm.

  Which is bad. Really bad. Especially when there is someone out there obviously watching me and Sam and all I can think about is Jett.

  He is a distraction I can’t have.

  A distraction I can’t afford.

  I’m hopping through my apartment, searching for my other black wedge to go with my grey pencil skirt and pastel purple blouse. I need my heels. A personal banker needs her heels.

  I mean, I could work without them, but I need this outfit because this is a confident outfit. And I need a confident outfit to figure out how to deal with whoever was following me yesterday because if I don’t have confidence, I will accomplish nothing all day at work, wondering if Sam is safe.

  The unexpected knock at my door doesn’t help my current state of panic. I rush to it and find a pale-faced Whit staring back at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. I’ve been moved in for over a week now and I’ve never seen this look before. She has the day off and is watching Sam for me. Shit, I hope something didn’t come up. I don’t have anyone else to watch him.

  “There is a gentleman here to see you,” she says, and I can hear the fear in her voice as the pitch changes by the last word.

  Whit moves to the side and the same cold and dark eyes from the other day in the hallway meet mine. The cut-off shirt and holey jeans that reveal a small gun in the front make my heart lurch into my throat as I attempt to pull myself together.

  It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s not pointing it at you. You’re fine.

  I cross my arms and lean on my doorframe. I might look calm, but on the inside, I’m practically pop rocks and soda.

  He smiles and glances between Whit and me.

  “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen two girls this hot at the same time. I must be hanging out with the wrong people.”

  “I … uh, I …” My eyes focus on the staircase.

  “You’re speechless. Perfect. This should go smoothly then,” Clint says and points inside my place. “You’re not going to invite me in?” he asks, stepping toward me.

  “No,” I tell him just as he steps into the perfect spot for my eyes to finally meet his. It’s bad enough that he knows where I live; I’m not letting him into my space. Has he told anyone? How many other people know?

  “We could talk about the mon—”

  “Fine,” I say, cutting him off and meeting Whit’s eyes as Clint pushes his way inside my apartment.

  “I’m sorry, I was getting something from the car and he was in the parking lot and then asked to walk me up the steps and—”

  “It’s fine,” I say to her. “Give me five minutes.”

  She nods, reluctantly.

  I leave the door ajar and meet him in the kitchen where I find him pouring Captain Crunch into a bowl.

  By all means, help yourself.

  “I have to get to work,” I tell him, eyeing the silverware drawer as he pulls out a spoon. When he sits at the table, I slide toward the drawer. Steak knives are in the one below it and, well, I want to be prepared.

  “I know. Which is why I’m here. I, too, have work to do.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. He takes a bite and gives me a closed mouth smile as he chews.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I’m with her now.”

  Who’s he talking to?

  “Yeah,” Clint says once more and hands me the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

  As steady as I can keep my hand, I reach for his cell.

  “Hello,” I answer and don’t miss the shaky tone of my own voice.

  “Oh, good, I see you can take instructions just fine.” The cold tone sends a shiver down my spine.

  Jimmy.

  My mouth goes dry and my hands begin to shake.

  “I want to remind you that you are the only person standing between me and what is mine. It’s very crucial that from this moment on, you do exactly as I say. Got it?”

  A gunshot rings out through the line.

  I start nodding like a Bobblehead in full swing.

  “I’ve got it,” I tell him and the line goes dead.

  Clint doesn’t give me much time to process anything: Jimmy on the phone, the money he wants back, the gunshot. Shit. There’s a lot to process.

  “So you’ll call me when you have the money,” Clint says. It’s not a question.

  “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

  “You are the only one who can help us, Charlie, and I think you know that. I want the money. Every nickel, dime, and penny of it.” The snarl in his voice should have been my warning.

  “I don’t have it.” The flare in his eyes tells me those weren’t the right words. “I told Jimmy this years ago. I don’t have his money.” My heart is beating so hard I feel like it’s just leapt up my throat and flopped to the ground.

 
Clint leans forward to say something, but a commotion outside distracts him.

  “I’ll be in touch, but hear this: We know you have it. You’d be tied up and crying for your life if we were doing this my way, but we aren’t. One way or the other, I will get that money. If people die, so be it,” he says. “You know how Jimmy works. I’d be smart, Charlie.”

  He stands, extending his hand with a smile. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Campbell,” he says.

  I don’t shake his hand and I don’t say anything. What the hell would I say?

  He chuckles at my visible fear. “Oh, before I forget,” he says, pausing in my doorway. “Sam looks like he’s a pretty damn good soccer player, don’t you think?”

  He doesn’t even wait for me to answer before he laughs and leaves. Whit rushes inside and slams my door.

  “Who was that guy? And what the hell did his scary ass want from you?”

  He wants me to give him money that I don’t have nor do I know where it is.

  “Nothing,” I say with the best smile I can give her. “Just an old friend who wanted to say hi.”

  “That’s not how I would go about saying hi to an old friend,” she says. Her eyes narrow, and a wrinkle forms between her brows as she stares at me.

  I grab my purse and spot my other shoe. Slipping it on, I nod toward the door. “Ready?”

  I follow Whit out. I’ve now got a bigger problem. Giving Clint the money would make my life so much easier, if I had it. I don’t. That leaves me with two options: run or make a plan. Running isn’t an option, not with a kid, so that means I need a plan and I need one quickly.

  Jett

  Dating someone during an assignment isn’t a smart idea. I don’t know how many times I have to repeat this to myself. Everyday maybe, till I get it. I’m heading up the stairs to Clint’s apartment, and I should be scouting my exits or checking my gun’s concealment or bracing myself for what’s behind the door. Anything work related. Not whether the girl I’m suddenly crushing on like a high school kid is thinking about me as much as I am her.

  I knock twice, pause, and knock twice more. A grunt on the other side tells me I can come in.