Look Before You Jump (16 page)

“No, this is the amended,” I insisted,
holding up the certificate and pointing to the word.

That got me an eye roll followed by the stare
of death over the top of her glasses. At least I had her full
attention this time.

“Once amended it is classified as the
original.”

“Look, I just need a copy of the entire birth
record then.”

“Listen, honey.” The glasses dropped from her
nose and cradled between sagging breasts at the end of a glittering
lanyard only Lady Gaga could appreciate. “Unless you’ve got a court
order, what you’re holding in your prissy little fingers
is
the entire birth record. Next person!”

Oh huh-uh. She did
not
just dismiss me
like a two-timing mistress. With negligible sleep over the past
forty-eight hours, a breakfast practically guaranteeing revenge
from Montezuma
and
his ancestors, and the last three hours
in the company of my ex-boyfriend, Madam Bitchy was going down
against Miz Bitchette.

“You want a court order, honey?” I ripped the
remaining papers from the envelope, not even slowed by the sting of
a paper cut. The slap of my hand on the counter caused Beer Gut to
retreat another step as Madam Bitchy’s eyes widened. “Here’s your
damn court order, complete with judge’s signature and the seal of
the great State of Texas. Now if it’s not too much of a bother to
move your ass and do the job my tax dollars are paying you to do, I
need a copy of the entire record.”

That garnered hearty clapping, a couple of
hoots, and a
that-a-girl
followed by a gruff
you-show’em
scattered throughout the line. Ten minutes later
and just over a hundred dollars in the hole – something Zeke
conveniently forgot to mention I’d have to pay for – I sat in the
downstairs lobby waiting for my ride.

The envelope was stuffed to overflowing with
Amy’s records. A cursory search through the mess revealed the
certifiable proof we were hoping for in black and white. Julio
Benito Juarez was Amy’s father.

***

While Zeke confiscated my envelope and ran in
to speak to the deputy assistant director of the Ranger Corp, I got
to sit in another uncomfortable chair – only this time it was in
the corner of a little café at the Texas Department of Public
Safety. I guess he thought another cup of coffee constituted
adequate compensation for my time, not to mention the hundred plus
dollars I was out obtaining the desired information. Hey, I paid
for those papers. If Zeke wasn’t more forthcoming on the drive
home, I had three hours to get in a few words and tell him what I
really thought of him.

After nursing my second coffee to stave off
the afternoon nods and salivating over the pastry counter wishing
we hadn’t missed lunch, Zeke finally made a reappearance. All I
needed was one glance to tell me his mood wavered closer to kill
than stun. The discussion over my unexpectedly abused funds could
wait until both of us had some proper nourishment. A sharp jerk of
his chin had me on his tail faster than you can say jump.

Under normal circumstances, I’m not one of
those women who says
how high
when a man says
jump
.
I’m more likely to issue a rebuke along the line of
kiss my
ass
or better yet, offer the southern salute – you know, the
middle finger. But after knowing Zeke for so many years, I’d never
seen such dark clouds gather so fast or feel the lightning bolts
crackle under his skin – and I wasn’t about to stand between that
cloud-to-ground path. Something big had just exploded with his
boss, and Zeke reeked of ozone.

I kept quiet through the silent stalk across
the parking lot and even the tire screech as Zeke whipped the truck
from the parking lot onto Lamar Boulevard. But when we passed a
host of restaurants as we neared the Highway 69 and I-35
interchange at full-throttle, I knew the last thing on the Ranger’s
mind was food. Lucky for him he had me in tow.

“If you’ll just pull into that steakhouse
over yonder I’ll foot the bill,” I begged.

The mention of food snapped Zeke out of his
dark trance, at least enough to get him to notice the dashboard
clock inching toward three. A sheepish brow furrow replaced the
scowl. My navel nearly leapt for joy when the tick of a turn signal
broke the silence, and we passed under the interchange to turn
right. I could almost taste the beef when we drove into the
restaurant parking lot.

Just what I needed, a big heavy steak to put
me into a coma for the drive to Dallas. As we walked inside, the
scents hit my olfactory senses and triggered a demanding rumble
from my belly before we were even seated.

“Sorry for leaving you hanging, Vic. I lost
all track of time today.”

“My stomach thanks you for stopping,” I said,
muscling my way into a booth faster than you can say
howdy
.

“Get what’cha want then. I’m buying,” Zeke
offered with a wink.

“I guess chivalry is not dead,” I mused and
ordered a sampler appetizer platter with our drinks.

A couple of buffalo wings, half the spinach
artichoke dip, and most of the cheddar-bacon potato wedges later, I
slowed enough to tip-toe around a few issues. Ah, what the hell.
Subtlety has never been my strong suit, so I dove right in instead
of wading.

“I take it things didn’t go so great today,”
I said between bites.

The dark scowl threatened to return before a
long pull emptied the one beer Zeke allowed when driving. A
satisfied sigh relaxed the tension lines around his eyes. It
reminded me of the before and after when we’d dated.

You know, before and after the tango between
the sheets? If he’d had a rough day at work, I could melt that
stress away before pizza delivery arrived. Afterward we’d enjoy the
glow while we ate. Not sure I liked my ministrations being replaced
by a bottle of beer.

“Morning went well,” Zeke offered. “While you
were playing Nancy Drew, we got all our ducks aligned for the
governor’s visit to Dallas next week.”

“You’ve no idea what Nancy Drew went through
to get Amy’s records,” I muttered.

“Tough crowd?”

“Psycho-controlling clerk stingier with
information than Ebenezer Scrooge with money.”

Zeke chuckled. “Sorry I missed that
bitch-slap fest.”

“I’ll bet. Speaking of money, you owe me a
hundred and two dollars and seventy cents.”

Without even batting an eye or asking to see
a receipt, Zeke flipped out his wallet and extracted a few
twenties. No rebuttal. No sarcasm. No belaboring the issue until
steam seeped from my collar. Where was this guy when we’d
dated?

My eyes narrowed. “You feeling okay?”

“I’ll have to owe you for the two dollars and
seventy cents.”

“You can write me a check when we get back to
Dallas,” I said, sliding the twenties toward him.

He shoved it right back to me. “No can do.
Can’t have a paper trail between me and this case.”

“But I thought the point of this trip
was…”

“There may be a tie-in between Amy’s death
and a case I’m working,” Zeke whispered.

“I knew it,” I responded in kind.

Bitterness tinged his voice as the cloud
descended once again. “But the higher-ups don’t see it. Frankly,
it’s more like they don’t
want
to see it.”

I nodded. “With an ambassador involved, it
gets kinda tricky, huh?”

“And if the State Department, FBI, or DEA get
wind of this, they’ll have a field day hampering my investigation,
that is if they don’t swipe it out from underneath me and make it
disappear first.”

“Well I guess that’s it then.”

“What?” Zeke raised a brow in suspicion.

“I want to help Bobby. You have an
investigation that needs solved. Somehow these are tied together,
so that means you still need my help.”

“Oh no. I had a hunch and it didn’t play out
the way I’d hoped. Thanks for your help today, but when we get back
to Dallas it’s the end of the road for you.”

“I wouldn’t count me out just yet.”

“I mean it, Vic. Give it up.”

I popped a chip in my mouth and smiled just
as the waitress brought our entrees to the table. The poor guy
wouldn’t know what hit him by the time I was through. Give it up? I
was just getting warmed up.

***

So much for warmed up. My three beer dinner
left me drooling on Zeke’s upholstery before we’d even reached the
edge of Austin’s city limits. Then after a gentle nudge, a prod and
a sharp poke, followed by the thrum of Zeke’s sexy voice in my ear,
awareness returned. I felt like a sloth in need of an extended
vacation.

“The neighbors might get suspicious if I have
to carry you into your apartment,” Zeke said.

“I’m up,” I mumbled and yawned. The fantasy
of awakening in bed beside a certain Ranger stunted as the
passenger door interrupted my stretch.

Zeke chuckled. “Yeah right. Come on,
princess. Looks like an early night for you.”

Darkness had already descended over downtown
Dallas as Zeke tugged my deadweight carcass from the truck cab and
steadied me against him. The warm embrace kept the chill breeze at
bay as I settled into the familiar nook beneath his arm. Good time
memories flooded through my brain as it slogged up from sleep stage
to arousal.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Nearing nine,” Zeke responded, holding the
door open to my building. “We were waylaid by an accident on the
interstate.”

“Why’s it so dark already? And cold?” I
shivered.

“Storm’s moving in.”

I encircled his waist with my arms and
snuggled up in the empty elevator to keep warm. The rickety old
thing always gave me visions of death waiting to happen, but I
suppose Zeke wasn’t too keen on towing me up four flights of
stairs. The ancient elevator started with a jerk, throwing us into
the corner and giving new meaning to the phrase
I’m up
. Then
I noticed where my hand rested.

Stale beer breath varnished with essence of
morning mouth didn’t deter Zeke – or me. Dreams of falling into bed
and sleeping the night away vanished when his lips caught mine. At
the elevator’s ding, he dragged me up the length of his body
without breaking the kiss, and I wrapped my legs around his
torso.

“Where’s your keys?” Zeke asked around my
lips, propping me against my apartment door.

I whipped my purse around to his spine,
fished the jangle from the depths without opening my eyes, and
crushed the keys into one of the hands cupping my butt. I didn’t
want to think about what once was – I only wanted right now, which
entailed Big Z in my bed doing all sorts of dirty deeds beneath my
unmentionables. The thought alone made me groan.

But all thoughts of a night tangled together
fled when Zeke dropped me on unsteady legs like a bag of bricks,
shoved me behind him, and drew his weapon with an exclamation.

“What the hell?”

To say a tornado had torn through my
apartment would’ve been kind. The truth? It appeared more as if
someone had detonated a nuclear bomb.

Stuffing from the sofa and chair cushions
blanketed the floor like snow. Dishes lay shattered across the
kitchen and canned goods rolled along the tile. My happy hour
supplies dripped down the open refrigerator door and into the now
unfrozen foods while the rest was sopped up by the loaf of bread.
Whoever had laid waste to my apartment even went so far as to rip
open my dining chair cushions and slaughter the glass-top table
simply for sport.

My mother had given me that dining set.

Anger and outrage infused every pore of my
being until fear diffused and drained it like cold water over
pasta.

“My cat,” I cried.

Zeke grabbed my arm as I sought to sweep past
him. “Stay put until I clear the apartment.”

“But Slinky. All this glass. He could be hurt
or…” My wail sputtered to a stop. I wouldn’t even consider the
possibility my sweet tabby might be gone.

“Stay here.” The firm set of his jaw and
intense stare brooked no opposition.

Weapon drawn, Zeke crept through the
apartment, checking behind overturned furniture and the kitchen
island, peering into closets and the bathroom before disappearing
around the corner into the bedroom. Seeing him in action offered a
whole new perspective and gave me an even deeper appreciation for
my Ranger. I mean ex-boyfriend. That guy I was about to surrender
to. Again.

Oh hell.

All the while, I watched and listened for any
sign of my precious kitty. Slinky just had to be okay somewhere in
this mess. I couldn’t live without him. After all, he’d rescued and
adopted me shortly after the epic breakup a few years ago.

Yep, that’s what I said – he rescued me.

It was a rainy night. Yeah I know, cliché but
in this case also very true. I’d come home from the bar, still
feeling the sting of betrayal, opened the single-car garage I paid
extra for every month, and caught in my headlights what appeared to
be a drowned rat slinking into the dry space. As I cautiously
exited my Vette, the constant mewling revealed not a rat but a tiny
kitten, sopping wet, cold and afraid. Oh, and quite hungry.
Feelings of betrayal and anger had melted by the time I finished
drying him off in my apartment and gazed into big green eyes
staring from fur fluffed out like a dandelion gone to seed.

The name? Since the night he’d slunk into my
garage and spent the following weeks slinking around my apartment
as if he expected danger around every corner, I thought Slinky an
appropriate name. Besides, you should see how high he springs in
the air when he gets all riled up – er, when I get him all riled
up.

Hey, a girl’s gotta have some form of
entertainment. Well besides the adult variety.

Zeke called out from the bedroom. “All clear,
Vic, but you’d better get in here.”