Trina’s voice came over his intercom. “Mr. Wenzel here to see you, Mr. Garrett.”
“Send him in.”
Wearing his usual black cowboy boots and string tie, Big Bo Wenzel walked in. Bobby considered him too country to really trust, but he put up with his good old boy ways because he had to. “How was your trip?” he asked, gesturing the big man to a chair
“Relaxing. Nothing like a young blonde to take the edge off. So where are we on this deal?”
“Your son says you want out.”
“My son’s scared of his own damn shadow. What’s your man saying?”
“He wants to wait another few days to make sure the police are done sniffing around then he’ll be ready. Your people in place?”
“Ready to roll whenever I give the word.”
“Good, but you need to talk to Matt. He’s shaky. Real shaky.”
“You leave Matt to me. He’ll do what I tell him.”
“I hope you’re right because I’d hate to have to make his wife a widow.”
“I said, he’ll be fine,” Big Bo replied with a soft edge to his voice. “You just handle your part and try not to kill anybody this time around.”
Bobby’s jaw tightened angrily.
Big Bo didn’t seem to care. He stood and his cold blue eyes met Bobby’s. “Let me know when your man is ready. You have yourself a good day.” And he walked out.
Bo drove back to his office in El Segundo and thought about Garrett. He hadn’t liked the agent from the beginning, and liked him even less now. If there was a way to cut him out so he could deal with his man Ham directly, the operation would probably run a whole hell of a lot smoother. An innocent man might or might not be dead either. The night it happened, he could tell by the look on Ham’s face that Ham had been as stunned as he was when Garrett blew Pennington away. Ham had left immediately afterward, and Bo wished he’d been able to follow, but the murder had taken place on his home turf, so he had to clean up the mess.
Now, to hear Garrett threatening Matt? He and Matt rarely saw eye-to-eye, and no, they didn’t like each other particularly much, but Matt was his son, and as far as Bo knew, his
only
son. That being the case, nobody was allowed to threaten his life but his daddy, and he didn’t remember seeing Bobby Garrett’s name anywhere on Matt’s birth certificate. In spite of the silk suits, fancy speech, and fine manners, Garrett was still a bottom feeding shark from Compton, but he was a big ol’ Mississippi swamp gator, and when you toss a shark in a tank with a gator, he thought, the gator always wins.
JT never made it to lunch with her accountant, so Carole went out and picked up burgers in a bag for them to eat. The phones were still ringing, JT’s cell in particular as she continued to mop up the mess caused by that morning’s erroneous report. Francine was still leaning on the network for a name.
“You know,” Carole said, “it’s been a pretty interesting last few days.”
“No kidding. First the computers and now this. What else is going to happen?”
“I’m not sure, but two of the finest men I’ve ever seen in my life are crossing the street coming this way,” she said, looking out of the window by her desk. “Oh, my goodness.”
JT sidled over to take a look. She smiled. “You’re getting your first look at Reese the Fine. The younger one has to be his brother Bryce.” And they were two fine specimens. Their walks alone were enough to stop traffic.
“That smile on your face says you’ve been keeping something from me,” Carole said, looking up into JT’s beaming face.
“Who me?” she responded innocently. “Of course not. Well, maybe a little. Did I tell you the man makes love like a god?”
Carole’s mouth dropped. “You already done the horizontal tango with him and you didn’t tell me. What kind of friend are you?”
A laughing JT hurried back into her office so she wouldn’t be caught staring. “I love you too.”
“Liar!”
A few moments later there was a soft knock on her closed door. Seated behind her desk, she took a deep breath, composed herself, and called, “Come on in.”
The sight of Reese in her doorway did something to her. She still didn’t have a name for it, but it felt good. She stood. “Well, hello.”
“Hey,” Reese said. “This is my brother Bryce.”
JT stepped over to him and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Bryce. I’m JT.”
Bryce was a dreds-wearing, caramel-colored, thinner version of his older brother. “Wow,” he whispered, looking her over with appreciative amazement in his light brown eyes. “Nice to meet you. Big brother said you were fine, but man.”
Reese laughed. “Would you act like you have some home training,” he said to his brother. “Let go of her hand.”
JT grinned. “Welcome to L.A., Bryce.”
Releasing her hand, he shook himself. “I’m sorry. If Pops were here, he’d’ve already popped me upside the head.” Seemingly recovered, he said sincerely, “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Blake.”
“Come on in and have a seat.”
Reese was shooting daggers his brother’s way, but when he remembered having the same reaction meeting JT for the first time on the 5, he chilled.
JT asked, “How was the flight?”
“Long, but I brought some work, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“I told Reese you didn’t have to come all this way. I just needed you to point me to someone.”
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I needed a break. We Anthony men are suckers for a damsel in distress.”
Hearing him use Reese’s exact words on the subject caught her off guard.
Reese seemed to have read her mind. He looked pleased. “Told you.”
“Okay. I give,” she said with a smile.
Bryce looked confused, but before she could attempt an explanation, Carole’s voice came over the intercom. “JT. Fran just called. The network said their source faxed over the story on our letterhead.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what they said. She said she’ll call back after she smacks a few more people around.”
“Thanks, Carole.” She could see the concern on Reese’s face, and since half the world already knew what was going on, there was no reason not to bring him up to speed. “According to the news this morning, I’m going into rehab for an undisclosed reason.”
When confusion creased his features, she explained in more detail. When she finished, both brothers still looked confused.
Reese asked, “Why would somebody plant a rumor like that?”
“You tell me. Between that and the computer problems, I’m starting to wonder if someone’s sticking pins in a voodoo doll.”
Bryce asked, “You think the two events might be related?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that, but who knows?”
Reese didn’t know either, but the cop in him and the man inside who cared about her were not pleased to think they might be. “Who would have access to your letterhead?”
“Everybody I’ve ever dealt with. Players, team execs, the media, charity organizations.”
“Ex-employees?”
She paused to study the seriousness in his eyes. “You met him.” It was a statement. Not a question.
He nodded. “Like you said, he’s a piece of work. You think he’s capable of this?”
“The phony story, yes. The computers? No. He’s not that tech savvy, or at least he wasn’t when he worked for me.”
Bryce asked in a dead-on English accent, “You have brigands in your life, my lady?”
JT chuckled. She liked Bryce. “Yes, I do.” She saw Reese drop his head.
Bryce added, “Then point me to the computer and a place where I can work. The sooner we banish the bad guys, the sooner big brother can get on with his campaign to win the hand of yon fair maiden.”
Reese shook his head again. “And you wonder why I don’t let you roll with me?”
Bryce grinned, and an amused JT went to clear space in the conference room so he could get to work on banishing the brigands.
After getting Bryce set up, she and Reese went back into her office. “I like your brother,” she told him.
“He’s an idiot.”
“But a cute one.”
“Thought you said I was the cute one.”
“You are. He’s little boy cute. You’re man cute.”
“I like that. Wait until I tell him. That’ll kill the Einstein playa.”
“Leave Bryce alone, at least until he finds out what’s up with the virus.” She brought the conversation back to an earlier subject. “So you met Mr. Bobby G3?”
“I did. And he told me Quise Chambers won’t be taking the anger management class.”
“Why not?”
“Because now that he’s the agent, the agreement you worked out is void. Wants to meet with Commissioner McNair to work out a settlement more in his client’s favor.”
“Said I sold Quise down the river, right?”
“Basically.”
“He’s the real idiot here. Lord.”
“Yes, he is, because he’s not getting another agreement.” He studied her for a moment and couldn’t help but see the stress on her face that hadn’t been there when she left his lap that morning. “So how are you really doing with this?”
“I’m pissed. I’ve talked to every athlete on my list, trying to convince them that there’s nothing wrong with me. Some wanted to know if they needed to get a new agent, was their money safe? I understand their concerns. I’d be asking the same questions if I were in their shoes, but it’s aggravating to even have to deny some crap like this.”
“Suppose it does turn out to be Garrett. What will you do?”
“Try and keep D’Angelo, Jason, and the rest of my children from kicking his gang-banging ass.”
“Gang banging?”
“Don’t let Bobby’s high maintenance look fool you. He’s straight out of Compton, and has the rap sheet to prove it.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “On the outside he’s an American success story—gang member makes good—but beneath the façade is a snake who’ll eat his young to get to the top.”
“So you fired him.”
“With a smile.”
Reese now had a better picture of Bobby Garrett, and it wasn’t flattering. “Would he get physical?”
She shrugged. “I had a man put me in the hospital before, and I refuse to go down like that again.”
“What do you mean?”
She told him the story about being beaten by Lamont Keel.
When she was done, Reese’s blood was ice cold with fury. “He’s dead, right?”
“Yes. Killed in prison by the babydaddy of another woman he’d beat half to death.”
“Karma’s a bitch.”
“Amen, and I’m never going to be a victim again.”
“You took self-defense classes?”
“Yep, and then I got a gun. This gun.” She took it from its hiding place and showed him.
He looked surprised.
She thought back on that awful day. “I never felt so helpless. He threw me around in here like a rag doll.” It seemed she could still feel the pain from his first punch. It was like her face exploded. “Never again.” As she replaced the piece, she gave him a rundown on her injuries, how long she’d been hospitalized, and the surgeries she’d had to have to repair her face.
In spite of all his police training, Reese didn’t know what to say. He’d never taken his anger out on a woman and had no respect for any man that did. “Damn, girl,” he whispered emotionally.
“It’s okay,” she offered reassuringly, but added, “If Bobby Garrett wants to get physical, he’s going to eat some lead first.”
Reese ached inside that no one had been able to help her during the attack. “When was the last time you were on the gun range?”
“Few days ago. I’m a regular, believe me. Max and I were taught to shoot when we were teenagers, but as I got older I didn’t keep up with my practice. I do now.”
That made him feel better.
The empathy in his eye and voice touched JT’s heart. She knew that he thought of himself as a twenty-first-century knight, and unlike Calvin Beard, the man she’d been dating at the time of that attack, Reese would have stayed by her side. When Calvin came to see her in the hospital, he took one look at her face, turned around and walked back out. A few days later he called and gave her a lame excuse about not liking hospitals, but she knew it was because she was no longer beautiful enough to be on his arm. She didn’t mind that he never called again.
Bryce stuck his head in the door. “JT, can I talk to whoever does your tech support? Got a few questions.”
“Sure, her name’s Misha. Carole can run her down for you. You find anything yet?”
“Still doing the preliminaries. These things take time, so you two may as well go have dinner. I’m going to be a while.”
They nodded, and he left to talk to Carole about Misha.
They had dinner at a small seafood café down on the
wharf, and Reese spent the whole time watching her and wanting to protect her from ever being harmed again. It was a man thing, he supposed. An armed and determined JT Blake had to be a formidable adversary, yet he still wanted to protect her, hold her, and somehow banish the memories of that ugly day. Trauma of that magnitude wasn’t something a person ever forgot. She’d live with the remnants the rest of her life, and he hated the man responsible.
After dinner they walked on the wharf and strolled among the house boats, restaurants, and small shops. He bought her an ice cream cone, which she found endearing. She even shared it with him, and she never shared her butter pecan. They moved on while the gulls soared overhead and the sun began to set out on the bay. Even though they’d been enjoying each other’s company, she sensed the silence in him. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Feeling protective, I guess,” he replied solemnly.
She stuck her arm in his and enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers. “You’re a very special man, Reese Anthony.”
“Somebody should have been there to help you.”
“I know,” she softly responded, “but no one was, and it can’t be changed.” She looked out over the water for a silent moment while the pain of that day played in her head. “I had nightmares for months.” She looked up at him and said, “I’m better now.”
He savored the honest face of the woman he knew he wanted by his side for the rest of his life. “If you ever, ever, need me. Call.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Promise.”
The serious tone and eyes made her heart pound. “I promise.”
He lifted his hand and ran a dark finger down her soft cheek. “I will kill the next person who hurts you.”
“Reese?”
“They’ll have to go through me.”
She realized he meant every word, and the intensity moved her. “I’m hoping there’ll never be a next time.”
Eyes still reflecting his mood, he nodded. “Me too.”
This was a bonding moment, and she knew that from this day forward they’d be linked in a way both beautiful and new. The certainty thrilled and scared her at the same time. “When you court a woman, what should she expect?”
The question garnered a small smile. “That I’ll buy her flowers and make love to her.” He traced her cheek again. “That I’ll take her to dinner and make love to her. That I’ll take her to my place in Hawaii and make love to her on a black beach under the moon.”
She fought off the dizziness brought on by his powerful gaze and the seductive tone of his mahogany voice. “Then a woman would be crazy to tell you no.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
Pleased by what her words meant, he nodded. They sealed the unspoken agreement with a slow lingering kiss, then arm in arm continued their lazy stroll.
On the ride back to her office, Reese’s phone went off. It was Mendes, calling to thank him for bringing Pennington’s missing music player to the attention of the detectives, and to let him know that the grandson had called in the serial numbers.
Mendes added, “Thanks for that too. Mrs. Pennington doubted the grandson would have talked to us about it if you hadn’t paid her a visit. The player is one of those new clip-ons all the kids are sporting. The grandson had the word ‘Pops’ engraved on the face of it.”
Reese’s pulse jumped. His father’s face rose in his mind. “The serial number’s gone out?”
“Yep, to pawnshops and secondhand stores all over the area. Let’s hope we get lucky. Just wanted to bring you up to speed.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Thanks again, Lieutenant.”
And he was gone.
JT looked Reese’s way. She’d only heard his side of the conversation and it sounded innocent enough except for the serious tone of his voice and the “Lieutenant.” But she didn’t ask about it because one, it was rude and two, she was having enough trouble handling her own business without sticking her nose in somebody else’s. If he wanted to talk about it, he would, and if not, that was fine too. “You think Bryce has found anything?” Not wanting to disturb him while he was working, they hadn’t called.
“Never know. If there’s something to find, the Brain will find it. Might take time, though.”
Reese seemed worlds away, and she wondered if it was because of the phone call. “You okay?”
It took him a second or two to respond, then he said, “Yeah. Just thinking about my father.”
“Is he all right?”
He nodded. “It’s nothing. One of those moments.” He had been pondering how he’d feel if his pops had been the one murdered. After meeting Mrs. Pennington, talking with the grandson, and now learning about the engraving, the case was morphing into something bordering on personal. When he looked over at JT, he saw the concern on her face. He couldn’t talk to her about what he was working on, and even if he could, she had enough on her plate at the moment. “I’m okay.”
“Just checking.”
“Thanks.”
Back at the office, Bryce and Misha had filled the conference room with enough electronic equipment to do a remake of
Frankenstein
. There were monitors and mother boards and odd-shaped gadgets that she’d never seen before. Both geeks were seated and pecking away on keyboards attached to screens filled with code sequences. Without looking up, Bryce asked, “You two have a good time?”
“We did,” his brother answered. “How’s it going?”
“Most interesting. This is not your average everyday virus. Not only is it beautifully constructed, it was made specifically for you, JT, and only you. It’s coded directly to your computer. Amazing.”
“So is this good news or bad?” she asked.
He looked up and the grin he gave her was so like Reese’s, she thought it had to be genetic. “Good and bad. Good in the sense that I get to play with it, and bad in that it may take me longer than I expected. Be easier if I was home in my own lab.”
Misha talked and typed. “Nothing stopping you from shipping it home.”
He met her eyes, then shrugged. “Never thought about that. Want to come along?”
The look they shared was so loaded, JT wondered what the two of them had been doing beside turning the room into a
Frankenstein
set. She glanced Reese’s way and saw him shaking his head with amusement.
Not wanting to be involved in whatever was happening between Mr. and Ms. Frankenstein, she said to them, “You two work it out. We’ll be in my office.”
Once there, she checked the messages left by Carole, then took a seat on the sofa next to Reese, leaned back and relaxed. “I think your brother’s going to be surprised by Misha.”
“How so?”
“Every athlete I’ve represented in the past three years has hit on her. Not one of them made it to first base, let alone home plate.”
Reese smiled. “A challenge will be good for him. We Anthony men like that.”
“Oh really?”
“Can’t you tell?”
Their heads were turned toward each other. “Both of you are a mess,” she told him.
“Genetic. Wait until you meet Pops and Jamal.”
She thought she’d like that.
Bryce walked in. “Okay. We’re going to pack everything up and ship it to the house.”
JT asked, “Is Misha going?”
“No. Says she has to stay here and do the install on your new computers.”
Both Reese and JT could see he wasn’t happy.
JT said, “Yes she does. The equipment is supposed to arrive in the morning.”
“I told her I’d fly her out later in the week and pay for her hotel, but she still said no.”
“Misha is a very focused young woman. She takes her responsibilities very seriously. Can you work on the virus without her help?”
“Of course, but I like her company. I don’t get to meet many women with a brain as fine as their face.”
JT said, “Not many women tell you Anthony men no, do they?”
They answered in unison. “No.”
JT had never met a family like theirs. “Humility is good for the soul.” She stood. “What do you need from me?”
“Not a thing. Misha and I will get some shipping boxes in the morning. Once everything is packed, I’ll fly home, sometime tomorrow afternoon or evening.”
“Okay.”
Bryce looked to his brother. “She and I are going to get some dinner and check out a couple clubs. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Reese nodded.
Bryce threw JT a wink then left them alone.
Reese asked, “So what do you want to do this evening?”
She shrugged. “I have to call my lawyer and see if she left anyone alive at the network, then I just want to sit and do nothing. It’s been a long day.”
“Your place or mine?”
He loved the sly little smile that played across her lips. “Yours, but I have to be back here early to help Misha hook up the equipment.”
“Whatever you say.” His eyes were working overtime.
“I mean it, Reese.”
“Whatever you say.”
She chuckled, then took out her phone and called her lawyer, Francine. While she talked and took notes, Reese went to the outer office and made a couple of calls of his own. He wanted to know all there was to know about Bobby Garrett, so he left one message with the commissioner’s office and another with an old friend on the Detroit Police Department who owed him a favor.
It was almost 9
P.M.
when Bobby Garrett pulled up in front of his ex-wife Kelly’s house. Even in the dark his shiny new convertible stood out on the tired-looking streets. He was so glad he’d moved on with his life and no longer called this part of L.A. home. Being rich was a whole hell of a lot better than being poor.
He stepped up on the porch and knocked. A beat later the porch light went on and Kelly’s mechanic husband David Young opened the door. Through the screen, he gave Bobby a long hard look, then called for Kelly. He didn’t invite Bobby in, and Bobby didn’t expect to be. The two didn’t like each other at all. When Kelly came into view, she patted her husband’s muscled arm reassuringly, then stepped outside. “You got my money?”
Bobby could see David still standing behind her. “I told you, in a few days. I came to see my son.”
David snorted loud enough to be heard.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because. Haven’t seen him in a while. You tell me to act like a father, so I’m here.”
“It’s a damn school night, Bobby.”
“I’ll bring him right back. I just want him to ride with me for a minute.”
“Where?”
“No place in particular. Just ride. See how he’s doing.”
Kelly’s skepticism was plain, but she finally relented. “Okay. Have him back here in one hour. One.”
She stepped back inside. Bobby could see the hostility on David’s face but he ignored it. Jalen appeared a few moments later. His hostility mirrored his step-father’s, but Bobby ignored it as well. “Hey, Jalen.”
“Hey.” He was much taller than Bobby had been at sixteen, but according to his grades, just as smart.
“Let’s take a ride.”
The boy stepped out of the door and followed Bobby to the car.
After the first few moments of silence, Jalen said, coolly, “Nice car.”
“Got it a few months ago. I like it.”
“What’s it cost? Thirty-five, forty grand?”
“About that.”
“Must be nice.” Jalen didn’t bother hiding his sarcasm.
Bobby glanced over at the sullen face looking out of the car window. The young blood had a lot of attitude. On one level, Bobby liked it, but on another, Jalen took after his mother. “Got something for you.” He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and tossed the gift over.
Jalen examined the music player skeptically. “What’s this for?”
“Just something to make up for not having seen you in a while.”
“Why’s it say Pops on it?”
“So you’ll know who gave it to you.”
“Thanks,” he said a bit too disinterestedly for Bobby’s taste and stuck it into his jeans. “I’m a junior this year. Are you going to help Mom and Dad pay for my college?”
Bobby had expected him to be ecstatic over the gift, not grill him about money. “Sure, yeah.”
Jalen turned away. “I need to get back. I have a big trig test tomorrow.”
“Okay.” A tight-lipped Bobby drove him back.
On the way to the Valley and his home, Bobby thought about his son. Having never had a father of his own, he admittedly didn’t know a lot about the role. He’d grown up in a single parent household with a mother who’d gotten pregnant with him at the tender age of fourteen. She died in a house fire during one of his early stints in juvie. He’d been in college before he ran into people who had real fathers in their lives. For them, growing up without their dads was unimaginable. They called on their fathers for advice, when they were in crisis, or just to say hello. He knew nothing about that, and back then, watching them interact with their dads was like watching one of those old fifties sitcoms he and his homeys used to laugh at while downing forties. No, he knew nothing about being there for Jalen, and in reality he didn’t have the time, he thought now, and never had. He’d done okay without having a father in his life. Jalen would too.
Setting aside those thoughts, Bobby put in a call to Ham. Preseason games would begin on Sunday. With the L.A. Grizzlies opening up on the road against Oakland, he wanted to make sure everything was tight. He got Ham’s voice mail. “Call me back,” he said and ended the call.
His cut for the first delivery would be fifty grand. Not a lot, but enough to pay down his more pressing bills like the mortgage, car note, and his secretary Katrina’s salary. In order to maintain his lifestyle and keep up the pricey front at his office, he’d skimmed so much money off the tops of his clients’ accounts he couldn’t afford to take another dime without raising flags. And not getting the contract with Owens had been a major setback. But Bitch Blake was getting hers. In the meantime, he planned to duck the people that he owed, and ignore the others with their hands out, like Kelly and the car dealership that held his lease. When he got paid, they’d get paid.