by Este Holland
I leaned over his shoulder to see the screen. “This is her house?”
“Yes. But see the flowers, and the flag, and the garden gnomes? I’m thinking it’s her parents’ house.”
“Probably. That’ll make it harder to sneak in.”
Jake grumbled something under his breath that sounded like “Break in.”
I chuckled. “See if you can find out who all actually lives there. If not, I’ll go in person and scope it out.” I clapped Jake on the shoulder and straightened. That was better, right? Friendlier than a caress to the head. I shouldn’t be touching him at all, though, should I? Maybe a handshake. Not the full-body rub I’d dreamed about the other night.
I snorted, and Jake looked at me funny. Maybe I should read up on workplace laws. That would be good. Jake wouldn’t sue me for sexual harassment. I mean, not that I was harassing him. Was I?
Naaahhh…
He was so cute, though, I couldn’t help it.
That was what every jerk told themselves. That, or the harassee was asking for it. No. I refused to be that guy. I’d be professional. A leader.
“Are you okay?”
Jake’s big, impossibly blue eyes gazed at me full of concern. I melted.
“I’m fine.” My smile stretched my cheeks, so I tried to dial it back.
I must not have been successful, because Jake bit his lip to stop a small smile. “Okay. Well, I’m pretty positive it’s Stephanie and her mother and father in the house. Oh, and a small dog named Muffin. Looks like a Yorkie.”
“So, no brothers on leave from the marines I should know about.”
Jake coughed out a laugh. “Not that I can see.”
“Great.”
“They’ve all RSVP’d to a wedding. Stephanie’s cousin. She’s a bridesmaid. It’s next weekend.”
“Awesome. I knew you’d be amazing at this.” Jake’s pale skin stained red, and I leaned in again. Maybe I’d pitched my voice lower than necessary, and maybe I leaned in a little more than I should’ve. It was an accident. “Can you see if they have an alarm or one of those camera doorbells?”
“What if she wears some of the jewelry to the wedding? Assuming she has more than just the necklace.”
“Mm.” I tilted my head in thought. “Possible, but I think the bride chooses her bridesmaids’ jewelry, doesn’t she?”
“I’m supposed to know that, how?”
I laughed. Christ, he was cute when he was grumpy. It was like a chipmunk griping. Not that Jake was particularly chipmunk-like in his mannerisms or looks, he was just…adorable.
Jake huffed. “I am not adorable.”
“How do you know what I was thinking?”
“You’re not as enigmatic as you think you are.”
“Hmpf.” No one could read me. Not even my own brother. “You did the same thing this morning.”
Jake studied me for a moment, then turned to the screen. Red creeped down his neck and around to his ears. “It’s your smiles.” He gulped. “You have a bunch of different ones.”
Thank God he wasn’t paying attention, because I knew I’d sprouted the biggest, stupidest grin of my life. He’d been studying my smiles. “So, freakin’ cute.” Jake froze. Shit, shit, shit. Don’t speak out loud, idiot! I coughed. “That you think you know me so well already. Okay! So, let’s see. I’m going to…”
“I have to get going,” Jake interrupted.
I wilted. “But you don’t have class.”
“No. I need to study for a test.”
“Right. Of course. That’s what students do.” Goddammit, Ferraro, get your shit together! I cleared my throat. “Good work today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Do you need me to come over?”
“Oh. Right. Time off. People have that.” My heart sank. “I guess you don’t have to come over tomorrow, unless you want to.” I tried for upbeat, but Jake bit his lip, so I said, “I’ll let you know if anything shakes loose.”
“Great.” Jake’s sweet smile threatened to cut my legs out from under me. “Bye.”
“Bye.” I listened for the front door to close, collapsed in my desk chair—still warm from Jake’s body—and closed my eyes. “I am so fucked.” I sat up and googled “sexual harassment seminars NYC.”
Jake
That was weird. First, Archer had petted my head like a little kid; then he’d called me cute. I dialed Marri without thinking. “Do I scream little kid to you?”
“Honey, you can scream whatever you want, just don’t involve little kids.”
“No. God. Marri!” I squeezed my eyes closed. “When you look at me, do you think little kid?”
“No-oo?” Marri paused. “You do give off a certain vibe, though.”
Oh, God. “What vibe?”
“Hmm. I’m going to go with vulnerable for two hundred, Alex.”
“Vulnerable?” I checked behind me to see if Archer had followed this time. I didn’t see him. And why was I disappointed? “Ugh. Vulnerable,” I repeated, testing the word in relation to my personality. “Is that good or bad?”
“You’ve lost me again,” Marri said. A slurping sound came over the phone and I cringed.
“Like, is that something a guy would like, or is it childish and annoying?”
“I don’t know,” Marri said. “I guess it depends on if he has a protective streak.”
This was too confusing. I sighed. “Well, he does stand up for people against those who’ve wronged them. I’d say that’s pretty protective.”
Marri grew quiet, except for the background city noise, meaning she could be anywhere. “Is Karmaman acting protective toward you?”
“I don’t know. He’s been touchy-feely, and he smiles at me a lot.”
“Touchy-feely? Is he harassing you?”
Uh-oh. I hadn’t meant to activate Mama Bear Marri. “No, no. Nothing bad. That’s why I was asking.”
Marri harrumphed. “Where are you?”
“Almost home.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there.” She hung up.
Crap. Now I had to defend Archer, or Marri would hunt him down and dole out her own form of punishment.
I spotted her when I rounded the corner of my building. “Were you waiting nearby?”
“Yeah, I was out with some of the cast.” Her eyes were a vivid shade of green from the colored contacts she liked to wear, and she wore a long black trench coat and a Marilyn Monroe wig.
“Do I even want to know what you’ve got on under that coat?”
She grinned fast and fierce. “Maybe I have on nothing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Even you aren’t crazy enough to go streaking in February. Come on.” I tilted my head toward the entrance. I caught her tiny grimace. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not that good either,” she grumbled but fell into step with me. Her heels clacked on the steps, and she was breathing hard by the time I opened my four deadbolts.
“Water.”
I grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge and handed her one as she collapsed on my futon-slash-bed. She struggled out of her coat, and I helped by yanking on her sleeve. Laughter burst out of me. She had on an over-the-top dominatrix outfit seen only in cheesy porn.
“What on earth…made you buy…that?” I said between guffaws.
“I was doing some modeling, and they let me keep it. I had a mask on, and they don’t have my real name, so it won’t haunt me in fifteen years when I win my first Oscar.” She smiled and pulled a wad of napkins out of her cleavage. “It was fun to wear at the bar. I got a lot of numbers.”
“I can see that, Mistress o’ Pain.” I put my stuff away and collapsed beside her. “How’s the play going?”
“Good. The director actually knows what he’s doing this time. And we have a choreographer.”
“Is there dancing?”
“Just in some scenes.” Marri snuggled with me.
“Cool. I can’t wait to see it.”
“You should bring Karm
aman to opening night.”
“Maybe,” I hedged. “I don’t know how visible he wants to be.” Her head moved, and I caught her contemplative gaze. “Do you want some clothes? I can’t imagine that’s comfortable.”
“Good idea. I’ll grab them.” It was a one-room studio, so she knew where everything was. She grabbed some of my sweats and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Need help getting out of your corset, Mistress?” I yelled.
“I don’t think you could handle alla this, baby gay.”
“I am not a baby gay!”
Her cackle echoed off the tiled bathroom. My phone pinged, and I checked the screen.
Archer: Did you get home okay?
My chest ached, and I bit my smiling lips.
Me: Yes. Thanks.
Archer: Good
Definitely protective. But was Archer paying me so much attention because I gave off a vulnerable vibe, like Marri said, or for another reason? Maybe he didn’t trust me. He’d admitted to following me for a few days to see if I was being honest. Maybe he found out…
“Shit,” I whispered. After all my worry and blustering about the job, I suddenly realized I’d hate to lose it. And not because of the paychecks.
Archer: Sleep well. I’ll see ya Monday
I stared at his text, unable to think of anything better than: You too.
Chapter 8
Jake
I was sure I passed my test on Monday morning with zero incorrect answers, so I was feeling pretty good as I walked to Archer’s place. That was, until I remembered my epiphany the other night. I squared my shoulders in the elevator. I’d have to prove it to him, that was all.
Trustworthy, thy name is Jake.
“Good morning,” I called out as I let myself in with the key he’d given me, so I could drop in and work if he was out stalking.
“Morning!” I followed his yell toward the office. “There’s coffee.”
I backpedaled to the kitchen and grabbed coffee and a croissant. He really was a good boss. So far, anyway. I just needed to figure out where his head was at where I was concerned.
I crunched on the buttery, baked croissant on my plate, using only my mouth since my other hand was full. My head went up at his chuckle and the croissant dangled from my lips.
“You look like a raccoon.” Archer reached out and pulled the pastry from my teeth and set it on the plate. He licked his thumb, and I may have whimpered.
Damn, people shouldn’t be so handsome in the mornings. Skin fresh and glowing from a shower and shave. Hair brushed, which would only last about ten minutes before he inevitably ran his hands through it. Scent as clean and enticing as a siren calling sailors to their doom.
Whoa. That got dark fast.
My face burned. “Sorry. I’m starving.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you like it.”
Archer’s expressive eyes swept over my face, and I cursed my pale skin.
“How was the test?”
“Good. Thanks.”
His “I’m so proud” smile stretched his lips, and I grew even warmer. I hurried on by and set my cup and plate down, then pulled my messenger bag over my head.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” I asked.
“I need to figure out how hard it would be to break in and get the jewelry.”
I sat in the chair and swiveled to face him. “Right…I really don’t think this is a good idea, Archer. That’s B and E. It’s way worse than vandalism.”
“I know. But I promised Tamsin I’d look into it, so I will. But believe me, I have plenty of reasons to not go to prison.”
I nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out about their security.”
“Great. I’m going to the house, do some reconnaissance—”
“Stalking,” I said at the same time.
Archer laughed and walked out. “Back later!”
I sat with my hands on the keyboard, gathering my thoughts. I would help him, but I’d also make sure he was safe while helping others. I opened his Gmail account and read through his and Tamsin’s emails. Then, I decided I should get to know some of his past jobs, so I could see what kinds of punishments he’d meted out.
One thread caught my eye, and I clicked open the conversation.
From Julie Sanders, dated seven months ago:
Mr. Ferraro,
Thank you so much for your exceptional interior design. I can’t express how much it means that you put yourself out there on my and my children’s behalf and refuse to take any payment. I wouldn’t mind working it off. I could clean your home, cook, anything really. (Well, almost anything).
I am truly sorry I can’t afford to pay you. Jonah took everything before he left. He emptied out our bank account, and since it was joint, there was nothing I could do. My oldest son is barely fifteen and already has to work to help support us.
I’m sorry…you already know all this. I’m just so grateful, but I feel guilty. I hate that I can’t pay you somehow. You truly are an angel on Earth, and if there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.
Yours truly,
Julie
I closed out the thread and took a deep breath. I clicked over to his files and searched for Sanders. In it was a video of Jonah Sanders. Someone had filmed him standing in the middle of Times Square holding a sign reading “I’m a deadbeat father and terrible husband.” He was wearing a woman’s old-fashioned Puritan outfit with a large red A on his chest.
How had Archer made him do that? Blackmail? Guilt?
I searched further and studied a spreadsheet of numbers. It was a royalties report. The video had gone viral for a short time, and Archer had given Julie the payout from YouTube. It wasn’t a staggering amount, but enough to make up for what Jonah had probably taken.
So, not only had Archer delivered karma, he’d helped a poor family.
I read the email three times. And here I was thinking only of myself, self-absorbed and shallow. In that moment, I hated myself a little bit. I’d been so worried about getting into trouble and graduating (and if I were being honest, how hot Archer is), I hadn’t put much thought into how he was helping people.
Julie was right…Archer Ferraro was an angel.
Archer
Stephanie’s neighborhood wasn’t great for recon: too many houses with retirees sticking their noses through the curtains to see what was going on. In the summer, they probably sat out on their small porches with iced tea and yelled at the kids in the street. It was quieter in February, but I couldn’t risk being seen snooping.
I’d dressed in a drab brown outfit and carried a box, hoping to come off as a UPS worker. The Fogles’ house was smack dab in the middle of a row. The houses all had barely enough room for people to walk between them.
Jake was right. This would be hard. How the hell did thieves do this?
I hadn’t thought of a good punishment for Brian Hart…yet. Recovering the jewelry wouldn’t do much to him, even if it would be returned to the family. I shoved the box into my trunk and slammed it closed. I rarely used my car because parking sucked, but I didn’t want to be seen on the subway security cameras. The houses were a different story. There wasn’t anything I could do about those security cameras. And I spotted a few of those blue Ring doorbells as I passed. I had to remember to keep my hat pulled low. I’d bulked up with a few sweaters and put lifts in my shoes. A little old-school, but it worked well enough.
I threw my hat onto the seat and headed out of the neighborhood. I drove by Stephanie’s salon to satisfy my curiosity. Nothing was happening. I was itching to get home to Jake but decided to swing by Brian’s worksite first. He was part of a crew clearing debris from some demolished warehouses. I couldn’t see which guy he was, but I did spot his buddy and neighbor from the bar the other night. I sat for a while and watched. After an eternity, a group of guys left the site and walked to a few food trucks waiting for the lunchtime crowd.
I spotted Brian with them, so I got
out and stretched, then headed that way on the opposite sidewalk. I crossed at the intersection, approaching from the rear.
People who thought only women gossiped were idiots. The crew talked all kinds of shit about people. Women in particular. I’d bet my Honda none of what they said was true. Or if it was, the women weren’t at all like the supermodels the guys made them out to be. Which was a shame. If they treated these poor women like human beings, maybe they could find someone that actually liked them.
“Yeah, I had this one chick on her knees in the bathroom…”
“A smokin’ hot babe gave me a handy on the dance floor. She had these huge tits…”
“I was at this club in midtown, and I swear ta God, Paris Hilton was there…” The guys all yelled and threw fries and chips at him. “I swear ta God!”
“What about you, Bri? I thought you was gonna come to the bar Saturday night.”
I perked up and accepted a hot dog and soda through the truck window. I dribbled chili down my chin, walked over to a garbage can to use my napkins and threw them away, which brought me closer.
“I was with Amy. Hot little piece of ass. Mouth like a Hoover.” Brian slurped on his dog, and I turned away to hide my disgust.
The guys all laughed.
“Wait, weren’t you seein’ Stephanie?”
Thank you, guy I don’t know!
I strained to hear them, chewing slowly and scrolling through my phone.
“I am.” Brian laughed with his mouth full and the guys laughed with him. One pounded him on the back.
“Dude! She’s my sister’s friend.”
“So?” Brian shrugged.
The guys ragged on the poor schmuck who’d dared to say something.
Well, shit. There was another one. Amy. No last name. No idea where she lived.
I texted Jake the info. The guy who’d spoken out was a bit younger than the others. The hard, outdoor work hadn’t aged his skin yet. He had black hair and brown eyes, and his skin was a shade darker than the rest of them. Dominican or Puerto Rican, perhaps. A real cutie-pie.