G-Men: The Series (30 page)

Donovan and Taz both nodded. They were disappointed that things wouldn’t be moving as quickly as they would have liked. Neither of them were too keen on the fact that this case, which had consumed a great deal of our time for better than two years, first in Virginia and now here in Indiana, was stalled once again.

They departed with their hang-dog demeanor and my commitment that I would be in contact as soon as I received further instructions.

I dressed in my preppy college garb for the cook-out. I looked at my haircut in the mirror. I was so fucking glad that I’d been finally able to cut those long locks off. I didn’t appreciate the hair covering my neck with summer coming.

I’d removed my earring, and kissed that fucking bandana good-bye, once and for all. Taz still loved playing that scene. I’d been done with it after leaving Manassas, Virginia when our first huge bust went down nearly two years prior.

That one had been up close and personal for me. I’d taken great pleasure in putting those pieces of garbage away for life. They’d taken someone very close from me. They’d taken my sister, Laney, with their drug dealings, extortion and violence. I had a personal stake in that one. I had no clue that, two years later, it would lead me back to Indiana, back to where I’d been raised all those years ago.

I grabbed the keys to my pick-up truck and headed out. It was a good half-hour drive to the Dennison estate.

I almost chuckled to myself as I thought about how off-base I’d been in my professional assessment of Sunny. I prided myself on reading people quickly and being able to assess their personal situations. I’d totally missed the boat on that one.

She had reminded me a little bit of Laney. She looked innocent and out of place at that club…like she needed someone to watch out for her. I’d fallen right into that role, whether I wanted it or not. I couldn’t help myself where she was concerned.

My first impression was one of awe and appreciation. I saw Diamond-the-dancer, who looked like an angel, and danced like a born seductress. I’d gotten a hard-on just watching her dance. Innocence and lustiness all rolled up into one beautiful chick that could move her body in perfection to the music. I was intrigued. I was more than intrigued; I was fucking amazed by her.

I needed to shake it off. This wasn’t about me and her at the moment. She had some explaining to do, but only after I was absolutely sure that she wasn’t involved in the criminal shit her ass-hat husband had going.

Donovan had called her a soccer mom. I wasn’t about to take his word for shit right now. I’d have to find this out for myself. If Sunny was involved, Sunny would go down with the rat bastard and all of the others. I’d see to that.

My instincts told me that Sunny was innocent of criminal activities. My heart was counting on it.

^{chapter 38}

My mother and father had finally left. I hated to sound that way, but my father could wear anyone out. He’d done a fairly good job of it this afternoon. First with me (in front of Slate, naturally) going on and on about my pregnancy and hoping for a grandson…and it’s about god-damn time Jack had me barefoot and pregnant again. I’d literally felt my cheeks glow red with that remark. I didn’t dare look over at Slate. I wasn’t sure if he’d figured it out yet. As far as I was concerned, the S.O.B. could think this baby
was
Jack’s.

Then Daddy had kept referring to Slate as ‘Lindsey’s Young Man,’ which had made her uncomfortable and kind of pissed me off at the same time. I’d made a point of checking out Slate’s reaction through my peripheral vision. He’d remained cool, calm, and collected.

Jack had simply managed to get drunk and laugh at his own stupid jokes, while constantly checking his cell for messages.

Slate had been eyeballing Jack. I busted him a couple of times, throwing him a hateful glare when he thought no one was looking. I could tell it pissed him off when Jack would tell me to fetch him another beer, or when Jack made a big production of grilling me about the potato salad.

“Are you sure you used your regular recipe on this batch, Sammie? It tastes like something is missing.”

“Missing something? Like what?”

“How about flavor?” he said, guffawing at his own nasty barb.

“Perhaps the alcohol has dulled your taste buds today.”

Jack had given me a hateful glare, turning to look at Slate.

“Hey, Eric, don’t feel as if you have to clean your plate there, buddy. Somehow, Sammie has made her potato salad taste bland. No one will be offended.”

Slate had given him a look, purposely digging into the bowl and putting more of it on his plate.

“Tastes fine to me, Mr. Dennison,” he said with a wink.

“Jack - call me
Jack
,” he said once again, tossing back the rest of his beer. “I guess it’s all in what you’re used to buddy. Me? I have a taste for the finer things.”

My father cleared his throat loudly after that exchange and then stood up.

“Come on, Joan. It’s about time we head out to the club if you want to watch those fireworks.”

My mother helped me with the last of the clearing, then caught me in the kitchen.

“Remember what I said, Samantha. We’ll support you in any decision you make. I hope you make one soon.”

With that, she kissed my cheek and left me standing, somewhat stunned, in the kitchen. Wow, my mother was more intuitive than I’d ever thought. Why now, though?

I peered out the kitchen window to the deck. Jack had gotten up and was out in the yard with his cell phone up to his ear. Lindsey and Slate were heading into the house.

My heart fluttered as I wondered if he was taking her out this evening.

“I’m going to give Eric a tour of the house, Mom. He really likes your decorating.”

Slate gave me a warm smile that betrayed nothing.

“I really love your place, Samantha,” he said. “I can’t tell you how great it’s been spending time here today.”

“Why, thank you, Eric. I suppose your family lives out of state somewhere?”

“Here and there,” he said, in his typical evasive manner.

“Let’s start downstairs,” Lindsey interrupted, taking him by the arm.

Thirty minutes later, Lindsey and Eric came out onto the deck where I was sitting with Jack.

“Mom, Eric’s getting ready to leave. He wondered if he could take some of your potato salad home. I’m going to fix him a plate.”

I looked up at Slate and caught the warmth in his eyes as he smiled down at me. I blushed, caught off-guard by the moment.

“Hell, Lindsey,” Jack called after her, “have him take it all with him. It probably does taste good to a bachelor.”

Jack killed the rest of his beer, then handed me his empty bottle. I started to get up to go fetch him another one. Slate’s eyes met mine briefly and, with one look, I could tell he wanted me to stay put. I sank back down in my chair.

“Yo Lindsey,” he hollered, “grab your dad another brewsky on your way back, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” she called out.

When Lindsey reappeared, she had her dad’s beer and a foil-covered plate for Slate.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dennison, thank you so much for having me here as your guest today,” Slate said. “The food was fantastic, and the company was mostly great.”

He smiled at me when he spoke, his dimple making a rare appearance.

Jack stood up and shook his hand. “Glad you enjoyed it, Eric. You’re welcome anytime. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”

“Absolutely, sir,” he replied, with a wink.

Oh my.

“I’m going to walk Eric out,” Lindsey said, her face not showing as much enthusiasm as earlier.

“Good evening, Eric,” I said, as they turned to go.

I looked back over at Jack. Something was on his mind. He’d been terribly distracted all day. He generally didn’t pound beers the way he’d been pounding them all afternoon, either.

“Jack,” I started, “is everything okay?”

“Sure it is,” he said with no conviction. His voice was empty. “Everything is just fine, Sammie.” His eyes were blank as they looked out over towards the setting sun.

I took time in the shower, lathering my skin up and letting the cool water rinse over me. I shampooed my hair and stood under the stream of water, contemplating today’s events. The only way to possibly describe it was strange, incredibly strange.

I never had the opportunity to catch Slate alone. It was if he’d choreographed it that way, always sparking a conversation with someone when they were on their way out of the room, just so we would never have the chance to be alone, even for a brief moment.

After my shower, I combed out my hair and dressed in a pair of silky shorts with a matching cami top. I slathered lotion on my legs as I sat on the bed. My cell phone rang. It was Becky.

“Can you talk?” she whispered.

“Yes. Why are you whispering?”

“George is in the other room. I’ve been dying to know how it went today. Spill it now.”

I relayed the events of today, including the unusual conversation that had taken place between my mother and me.

“No shit? Really? That’s so uncharacteristic of your mom, isn’t it?”

“It really is. I hope everything’s okay with her and Daddy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is hun. Maybe she finally sees what a bastard he is, Sam. It definitely sounds as if she’s dealing with guilt over the whole thing after all of these years.”

“Yeah, but why? I need to get her without Daddy some time for lunch or something. There’s more to all of this. I’m sure of it.”

I sat on the bed and talked to Becky for another half-hour while I painted my toenails. She was hysterical about the whole incident with the potato salad.

“You see, Sam. That’s so ‘Jack’ in the way he talks to you. I’m glad Slate put him in his place without appearing to do so. It sounds like Jack was getting kind of trashed.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m definitely keeping my deadbolt locked tonight.”

“What do you think all that was about?”

“He’s worried about something. I don’t have anything concrete to give Donovan, though. I mean, he has been sticking close to Indy these past few weeks. He never freaking leaves his cell phone around. I think he sleeps with it under his pillow and that’s no exaggeration.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“Yep. Got to. I have to take care of Dalton.”

“Who the hell’s Dalton?”

“That’s the name I’ve picked out for the baby.”

“Oh geez! You’ll have that name changed fifty million times before that baby’s even born. I remember what we went through with Lindsey, don’t you?”

“There weren’t that many names,” I argued.

“Really? Let’s see: Jessica, Emily, Justine, Kylie, Jillian, Jamie, Zoë, Hannah, Rebecca, Anna - need I go on?”

“No, please don’t,” I laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep the name to myself until such time as the baby’s here and I have my final choice.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, gotta go. George wants to go to the end of the street. We can see the fireworks from the empty field.”

“‘Kay, talk to you later.”

I checked my toenails to make sure they weren’t still tacky before I crawled under the sheets of my bed. They were good.

I got up and brushed my teeth, then checked my deadbolt lock, making sure that it was securely in place. It was close to midnight. I was fairly certain Jack had crashed in front of the television in the master suite we no longer shared.

As I pulled my comforter back to fold it at the foot of the bed, I saw the silver bracelet that Slate had given me for Valentine’s Day on the pillow. It had been in my jewelry box on the dresser. I didn’t wear it when Jack was around, not wanting to draw his attention to it.

I picked it up and saw the note folded underneath.

My heart fluttered as I opened up the folded piece of paper. The dormant butterflies in my stomach suddenly came to life. They were swarming as my eyes read the words in his neat script:

‘Leave the door from your bedroom onto the terrace unlocked. I have the need to taste the finer things tonight. -S.’

^{chapter 39}

I crawled under the cool sheets of my bed after I’d left the French doors leading from the outside terrace to my bedroom unlocked.