In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel (24 page)

Sophie thought for a second and then grinned. "You like Thai food?"

I
took
Mark to a little hole in the wall Thai restaurant about halfway in between the hospital and the Gold Shamrock, the Irish tavern I worked at. For a guy who had looked so at home behind the wheel of his electric sports car the night before, it was great to see him also relax in the shotgun seat of my beater Civic. "I see you spent your money wisely," he joked, tapping the stereo. It is an impressive sound system, though I rarely use it. "How much did it run?"

"I don't know," I said as I turned the corner out of the parking lot of the hospital. "I bought this thing used. The stereo came with it. The guy who sold it was an old man, who said his grandson had used the car before he joined the Marines. So I don't think he knew just how good the sound system was. But, since my MP3 player pretty much sucks in terms of battery charge, I don't play it often in here. I save it for when I go to the gym."

"Where do you go?" Mark asked, "And please don't tell me you go to Planet Fitness."

"I said I go to the gym, not to waste my money," I replied with a snort. "I'm still a university student, so I have full access to the facilities they have. What about you?"

"Mostly on my own," Mark replied, "But I do have a membership at Downtown Sports. Maybe we can go together sometime?"

I smiled and looked over at him. "You don't want to see me sweaty and in workout clothes."

Mark's smoldering look in reply sent little butterflies through my stomach, and I had to tear my eyes away from him to look at the road. "I've seen you in less than that, and I think every bit of it is beautiful," he said, his words causing me to shiver and smile at the same time. "And I can't wait to see it all again."

I didn't really have an answer, so I just smiled. Of course I wanted to have sex with him again, but I wasn’t exactly used to being in this kind of situation.

Soon we were at the restaurant anyway. I glanced over at Mark, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sure it's not as glamorous as what you're used to, but it's good, and the owner is really from Thailand."

The restaurant was pretty quiet when we came in, since we showed up in that dead zone between lunch and dinner. Still, the hostess was polite, and we were soon seated at an orange booth covered in a blue plastic tablecloth, drinking iced tea from large plastic glasses. "I know the decoration looks pretty plain," I said, "it raised my doubts too. But, apparently the shop used to be a pizza place fifteen years ago, and when the owner bought it, he just kept the decor. It caught on with the university and hospital people, and he's been going ever since."

"It reminds me of the small town I grew up in," Mark said, and for the first time, I could hear a faint Southern accent in his voice. I guessed he hid it pretty well unless he wanted it to come out.

"Whole town had only nine thousand people in it, most of them country folks. We had only four different types of restaurants in the whole town. You could have Southern, fast food, your large chain family restaurant, a Greek place that doubled as our Italian place, and a single Chinese restaurant, converted over from a Dairy Queen. Good Chinese food, although they kept getting shut down by the health department, so take that for what it's worth."

I laughed and sipped my tea, a nice herbal peppermint blend the owner developed himself. "So how'd you end up in the big city?" I asked, trying to imagine Mark growing up in a small Southern town. He must have been the high school quarterback or something, he was such a great athlete. "Football scholarship?"

"Hmmm?" he replied, surprised. "Not at all. My family moved here when my mother died. I was twelve, and my father thought that he could make it better in the city than in South Carolina. So, just as I was getting ready for high school, he took me with him to Boston, where he had a new job lined up. I had to learn a lot, and quickly."

"I bet," I said, thinking of a country white kid from the South landing in a Boston high school. Even the private school kids would try and tear him apart. "Must have been better when you went to college."

Mark gave me that confident smile of his, with the right corner of his mouth quirked up as if I had said something funny. "I've never been to college," he said quietly, causing my mouth to drop open. "Everything I learned after high school I picked up either through reading or through my work. It's not exactly a classical education, but I've been able to make it work so far."

I blinked, shaking my head before finally finding my voice. "Mark, how do you do it?"

"What?" he asked, his smile growing.

"You keep surprising me," I said, pausing while our plates of Thai noodles were dropped off. "I recommend the peanut sauce. Anyway, you keep surprising me. Last night while we talked, you struck me as someone who's highly intelligent, but yet you haven't been to college. You tell me Boston, and I would not be surprised at all if you had then told me you graduated from BC or even Harvard. I had taken you for someone with at least an MBA, or maybe a military officer who got out and turned your skills to the business world."

It was the first time I'd ever seen Mark actually look bashful, and it was adorable. I felt my heart lurch in my chest, and I had to remind myself that I'd only known him for less than twenty-four hours. Still, something stirred within me, and it was more than just my libido.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, looking me in the eyes. He reached across the table, taking my hand again, and I could feel the spark of electricity jump between us. It was different than just the attraction we'd shared in the club or in my apartment. I was seeing him for the man, and not just the sexy body. It felt good. "But don't make me out to be more than I am. I'm still just a country boy from South Carolina who works as a freelancer."

"You seem like a lot more than that to me," I said honestly. "Not too many men would have figured out the perfect solution to my issue with Dr. Green today. Half of them would have charged in and gotten me in trouble with Green later, and the other half would have stood there impotently while doing nothing."

Our conversation continued as we lazily worked our way through the spicy food, downing it all with the large glasses of herbal iced tea.

I told him about my weight gain at the beginning of my undergrad years, and how Tabby had helped support me through getting it off. He told me he had to thank her whenever they first met for dragging me out of the apartment and to the club the night before. He also told me that he was glad I had sent him the text message during a quick break I had, since he felt like an idiot for not getting my cell phone number before I left that morning.

"I don't want to sound creepy or anything, but I really didn't know if I could have waited until next Tuesday to hear from you again."

"Considering I couldn't even wait twelve hours, I don't think it's strange at all," I said. Just then, Mark's cell phone rang, and he gave me an apologetic look. "Go ahead, I'm sure it's important."

"It is," he said before taking out his phone. "The only people who have this number are my work clients...... and you. Excuse me."

He slid out of the booth, heading outside to take his call while I considered his words. I was interrupted when the waitress, a pretty young mixed Thai and black girl who was in high school and helped out at her father's restaurants after classes, dropped off the check. "Here you are. I hope you two had a good meal."

"It was great as always, Helen," I said, using the girl's American name. She had a Thai name too, but I kept forgetting it. "And it was a great meal."

Helen walked back behind the counter to do some of her homework, and I looked out at Mark, who closed his phone and came back inside. "Everything okay?" I asked, picking up the check.

Mark grinned and took my wrist in a feather light yet strong grip, and pulled the check from my hands with two fingers. "Now, how would I feel as a Southern gentleman if I didn't pay on our first date?" he said with a smile. I could feel the blush all the way to the roots of my hair, and he stroked my cheek with the back of the first two fingers on his right hand. "Don't be shy, even if it is massively cute. And don't think this is a knock on your student status and income level. Tell you what, I'll make sure to get us reservations at Le Blanc for our next one, just to make us even."

I laughed at his joke, since Le Blanc is infamous for being the most expensive restaurant in the city. "Do that, and I'll have to move out of my apartment to pay for it," I said. "Then where would I stay?"

"Don't know," he replied, before leaning in to whisper in my ear. "I think I have an idea, though."

His hand came around to my lower back, pulling me in close to him, and he cupped the back of my head before kissing me. His lips caressed mine, and I threw my arms around his back, clinging to him while our kiss grew hotter and more passionate, only stopping when Helen discreetly tapped the register bell behind us. Mark pulled back with a soft chuckle, and I took a few moments to catch my breath before also laughing. "I'd never be able to bring you by the tavern," I joked. "I'd never get any work done."

"Well, I'm sure some day the bloom will be off this romance, and we'll be able to at least go a couple of hours without kissing or trying to take each other's clothes off," Mark said, holding the bill and stepping back. "But for now, let's pay this and get out of here. We've both got work to do tonight."

I
watched
Sophie drive away from the parking lot of the strip mall where the Thai restaurant was located before heading down the street. I could have called for a cab, but I didn't want my movements to be tracked. Instead, I headed to my business meeting at a local boxing club in the Warehouse District, by foot as it was only a few miles away.

The walk was good, it helped me think about my work. Besides, even with my reputation, there was no way I'd bring my Mercedes anywhere near the Warehouse District. If Sophie thought her North Side apartment was in a bad neighborhood, she'd never spent any serious time in the Warehouse District. It was the sort of neighborhood where you didn't show any signs of wealth unless you wanted to be robbed, and you made sure to wear very specific neutral colors.

Arriving at the Warehouse District, I thought of the strange skills I'd picked up over the years. I found the boxing gym and went inside, taking a moment to watch the mid-afternoon crowd of boxers training. They were a unique group, most of them journeymen who were trying to sharpen up before their next paycheck taking an asswhipping from some prospect, or perhaps dreaming of getting that attention-grabbing knockout.

The place was anything but glamorous, with old bags hanging from the rafters wrapped in layer after layer of duct tape, to the point that you couldn't tell if the bag was really intact any longer, or if the guy was just punching a giant column of tape. It made Mickey's gym from the
Rocky
movies look shiny and well maintained, but it still put out some of the best boxers and MMA fighters in the area.

My client was the reason why. He was sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the fenced octagon cage in the corner. A great trainer, he was also an astute businessman, who knew both the good and the bad side of how to work contracts and fights in a sport where, if you dug hard enough, you tended to find lots of Sicilian names in positions of power, although there were also lots of Russians, Latinos, and others in certain areas.

"Hey Greg," I said, sitting down on the bench next to him. "How can I help you out today?"

"Nothing too serious," Greg replied, his eyes never leaving the cage. "Kid up there has a fight coming up in a month. His opponent is pretty dangerous, and the odds right now are not in our favor."

"Okay, so you want a scouting report on him?" I asked jokingly. "Thought you guys swapped tapes nowadays."

"Not a typical scouting report," Greg replied. "Instead, I was thinking maybe you could pay his gym a visit, and....
verify
a rumor I've heard that his opponent has a bad left knee. Nothing too serious, especially with the magnitude of this fight, but something that might make him a step slow on his takedowns, and a bit more vulnerable to low kicks."

"That sort of info would be very helpful to a trainer, especially if his fighter has a pretty good kick," I said. "What's the pay?"

"Not a lot," Greg admitted. "Say, ten percent of our winnings on the action, and of course you can put your own money in if you want."

I shook my head. "Greg, you know I don't gamble like that. You know I normally handle more high profile stuff than this, but I'll be happy to give this guy a visit. You got his information?"

"Of course," Greg said, reaching inside his shorts and pulling out an envelope. "It's on this SD card. Also a small gift, thanks in advance."

I felt the envelope, and felt both the data card and what was most likely a prepaid credit card, one of the methods of payment I preferred. "Mind if I take care of it this weekend? I can give you a call Monday if you like."

"Probably better to do it tomorrow, I've heard this guy doesn't like to do gym work on weekends," Greg replied. "But Monday is great. Like I said, this fight has some serious implications. There's going to be guys from Vegas at the fight, and they've been giving us a few calls. If my boy up there can get an impressive win, he's got his ticket to the big leagues all ready to go. So, thanks man. Say, you want to get some work in? Just take it easy on the kid, he's no match for you."

I chuckled and stood up. "No thanks, Greg. You know my style doesn't match up well in the cage." Greg nodded his head in agreement, then offered his hand to shake. We shook hands, and I was on my way.

H
eading
towards the nearest RIST station, I made a snap decision, and took the University train instead of the Park train. Getting off, I headed back to the hospital, checking the ER. Dr. Green was still on duty I saw, although he looked like he was getting ready to leave. I melted into the background, and shadowed Green as he left to head to the parking lot. When he got into his car, I noted the license plate, and watched as he drove away in a cut-rate Lexus.