Big Girls Don't Cry (11 page)

Jake waved aside the compliment.

“Good for you, Dirk. I’m glad you’re in a good spot. You and I chose different paths. Don’t know if I could handle sitting behind a desk, but if anybody does it well, it’s you. We never missed a single piece of machinery or a weapon part on any mission I commanded, as long as you were in charge of logistics. It’s men like you who give the guys in the field a fighting chance to come out alive.”

“Thanks, Jake. That’s high praise coming from a guy with your record. Hell, man, you are the gold standard!”

Again, Jake shook off the praise.

Dirk moved closer and lowered his voice. “Look, Jake, don’t get riled up over what happened in there. Mike Pierce is a hothead, always has been. But he has to deal on a regular basis with all the political assholes in Washington and he’s protective of the Army. In my opinion, a little too much, almost like he’s overcompensating. But, hell, I don’t envy him his job.”

Jake shrugged.

“Everyone’s doing their job, Dirk, just like they are supposed to. I’m also doing mine.” Jake held his gaze. “Look, Dirk, you know this place a hell of a lot better than I do. I’ll appreciate it if you’ll keep your eyes and ears open. I can use an inside guy who’s not afraid to look at all the angles.”

“Hell, yeah, Jake. I’ve got your back. But I gotta tell you from long experience, this mess has ‘Cartel’ written all over it.”

“I don’t disagree, Dirk.” He paused for emphasis. “But a good investigator doesn’t come to conclusions until he’s seen all the evidence.”

He gave Dirk a cocky smile and didn’t try to keep the edge out of his voice. “And if I am anything, Dirk, I’m a hell of a good investigator. Keep sharing that fact with all the brass here and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

~~~

Walt waited for the boss to respond to his telephone call. The fucker always made him wait. Rubbing it in who was in charge. Who called the shots. Walt was sick of being yelled at. He was as critical to the operation as the boss was. You’d never to know it to hear him. The phone rang. It wasn’t five seconds before the tirade began.

“Goddamn you, Walt. I’m telling you if you ever ignore my orders again, you are a dead man. I’m still cleaning up your mess.”

Walt tried unsuccessfully to keep from whining. “I…I killed him just like you told me to.”

“I told you to leave the body on the base?” The boss’s voice was close to a shriek. “Do you understand that because of your stupidity we now have the whole goddamned United States Army up our ass? I’ve had calls from two fucking senators already. And, fuck, they sent in the number one CID agent in the country to investigate. ”

Walt complained, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I…I couldn’t haul him out. I told you that. The fucker was in pieces. And…I thought because he was a former beret it would make sense that he might have been meeting someone on the base.”

The voice on the other end was silky, threatening. “No, Walt, you didn’t think. And because of your idiocy, we are in danger of blowing the whole enterprise apart. Do you have any idea who Jake Gardner is?”

Walt thrust out his chest. Maybe the boss wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. He tried to imitate the boss’s steely tone. “I don’t think he’s that great. Christ, it took me all of thirty seconds to get in Beloi’s sister’s room. If he’s such a hotshot, you’d think he’d take better care of the slut he’s shaggin.”

The harsh sigh on the other was audible. “Walt, I’m going to tell you something. You better listen up. The only people who think they can outsmart Jake Gardner are dumber than dirt. Hell, they’re dumber than you. Or at least I hope so.”

His voice was sharp, commanding. “We have the biggest shipment yet coming in this weekend. Make goddamn sure your girls are ready. And wear your fucking disguise everywhere except the station.”

There was a long pause. His voice dropped to dangerous level. “Walt, you fuck up again, disobey my exact orders, and you’re gone. One word from me and our friends in the
Primo H
uelga
will make what you did to Beloi look like a fucking Sunday school picnic. And this time, my explicit order will be that they keep you alive until they light the match.”

Listening to the dial tone, Walt’s stomach heaved. Christ, it was all he could to keep the gorge from coming up. Dragging the soiled handkerchief out of his pants pocket, he mopped off his brow. Wasn’t much he could do about the damp stains under his arms. Looking at the clock, he still had three hours until the end of his shift and four boxes of evidence to catalogue. He needed a drink, bad.

Chapter 11

Lexie let the phone ring. She unwound from the end of the sofa, her knees aching at the effort. She turned her head from side to side, then in a slow circle, trying to relieve the stiffness. She hurt everywhere. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes. Didn’t have the have the energy to undress and crawl into bed. Jake’s bed, she reminded herself with a shiver. She dug her cell phone out of the crack between the sofa cushions.

“Lexie, the autopsy report is ready. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

Jake’s voice on the message was cool, just a hint of the southern drawl she’d come to savor. None of the hard anger she’d heard yesterday, but not warm or comforting. No, Lexie, girl, she reminded herself, you blew that one. Too bad, she could have used a friend.

Ten minutes in the shower relieved some of the tight knots in her neck, but did nothing for her throbbing temples. A little food wouldn’t hurt, she thought with a grimace.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine crawling into the big four poster bed with the puffy grey and black duvet. The pillows at the head of the bed were four deep. Inviting. She liked to surround herself with pillows when she slept. It was a habit she’d picked up when she was a little girl. It made her feel safe, protected. The pillows kept the witches under the bed from grabbing her ankles and pulling her down into the underground. When she told Anthony, he didn’t laugh. His ten year old face was serious. “Yeah, Lexie, they try to get me, too.”

Pulling her wet hair up in a ponytail on the top of her head, she grimaced at her pale face in the mirror. Damn, if her eyes got any bigger, they’d take over her face. Tugging a pair of low rise jeans over her curvy hips, she decided against the belly button ring. Went for her jeweled belt, instead. A cropped t-shirt, her studded jean jacket, and ankle boots were the best she could do. Hugging the jacket close to her, she tried to figure out why she was cold. The thermometer on the outside of the window was pushing 100 degrees. And it wasn’t even nine o’ clock in the morning.

She huddled in a chair at the kitchen table, watching the minute hand on the clock tick by. Nibbling on a banana, she tried to be indignant that Jake assumed he would pick her up. That she couldn’t drive herself. But then she had to admit, she didn’t know where the hell they were going. She shivered, pulling the jacket tighter around her. She hoped it wasn’t the morgue. She chided herself. Surely, Anthony’s body was long gone from the morgue. She counted on her fingers. Five days. Five days since he’d died. No, he wouldn’t be in the morgue.

She remembered the first time that she’d been in a morgue. Her aunt insisted that she and Anthony see their mother so they would know that she was dead, that this time she was gone for good. Even at eight years old, Lexie knew. She didn’t need to see the emaciated woman on the steel cot with her stringy blond hair, splotchy skin, and the bruised tracks on her skinny arms to know that she was dead. Her aunt’s voice was triumphant. Satisfied. She’d sniffed. “You see, Lexie, it doesn’t matter how pretty you are, this is what happens to women like your mother.” Anthony growled, called her aunt a dirty name. The vicious woman yelled at them all the way down the long hallway, damning them both to hell for their rude behavior.

When her aunt died in a car accident a year later, Lexie wondered if praying that her aunt would die had done it. Killed her off?

She hadn’t thought her life could get worse, but it did. She’d stopped praying after that.

~~~

It took several loud clangs of the doorbell and the click of a key turning in the lock to realize that Jake was there. Entering the kitchen, he loomed over her, his brows pulled together in a questioning frown. He squinted at her with a side glance at her barely eaten banana.

His voice was soft, concerned, a contrast to his large muscled body. “Can I assume that’s the sum total of what you’ve eaten today?” His frown deepened. “Or yesterday?”

He deposited a Starbucks cardboard tray on the table and handed her one of the steaming cups. Opening the paper bag, he took out three fragrant sugar crusted scones. She couldn’t decide which smelled better, the citrusy smell of orange flavored sweet dough or the spicy scent of sandalwood and cologne emanating from the big man crouching by her chair. His steely blue eyes were dark with concern.

“Listen up, darlin’. Unless you want me to sit you on my lap and feed you this bite by bite, you’ll take a big swig of that coffee and a bigger bite of that scone.”

Lexie felt the heat rise in her cheeks, her gut resisting the thought of food. Turning away from his formidable presence, she tried unsuccessfully to stifle the shivery feeling at the thought of him holding her on his lap. When he didn’t move, just kneeled beside her, his hand resting on her knee, she picked up the cup and sipped the spicy liquid.

“Lexie, you need to eat, whether I am here or not. You need your strength. How the hell can you do that grueling practice you drive yourself through unless you have fuel – a lot of it?”

She frowned, wondering how he knew about her practice, then gave up. He seemed to know everything about her. On some level, she was comforted until her overwhelming need for privacy kicked in.

“Look, Lexie, I acted like a horse’s ass yesterday. I have to admit I was mad as hell that you didn’t trust me enough to call me, to tell me about the fucker who’d been in your room.”

She hesitated. “It wasn’t that I…I didn’t trust you. But I knew you were mad at me for how I…left the restaurant.”

He scowled. “Yeah. You’re right. I was. But I didn’t have to take it out on you.’’

When she didn’t answer, he said, “I’m sorry, Lexie. Hell, darlin’, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never acted this way before with a woman. Like some possessive, over protective asshole. You’ve got me tied in knots, Lexie. I don’t know how to describe it. Christ, sugar, most of the time I wanna hold you and never let you go. The rest of the time I want to turn you over my knee and paddle your bare butt.’’

Lexie gasped. She stared at him in shock. He was smiling at her through hooded eyes, but the smile didn’t erase the troubled look in his eyes. Grasping for distance, anything to stifle the sensations his provocative words triggered, she struggled for a saucy smile.

“I don’t know, sugar, about the closest I can come is my Uncle Clem. He always said Aunt Silvia made him as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

Lexie shook her head and groaned, but couldn’t hide her smile. She warmed seeing his answering grin. She took another bite of her scone and washed it down with the spicy latte, surprised at how easily she swallowed.

He nodded at her in approval, then shot her a wicked grin. He said with a low chuckle, “Damn, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t eat that scone. Something about feeding you is downright intriguing.”

She gnawed on her lips and looked down at her clenched fists. He was teasing her, but she didn’t miss the suggestive undertone in his voice – or her reaction.

Certain that she was blushing, she took another swallow of coffee, then said in a firm voice. “It’s nearly eleven. We should go.”

Jake nodded in agreement. He stood up and moved to the living room. He checked the window locks and the sliding glass door, and then headed to the bedroom. He looked over his shoulder with an apologetic shrug.