Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) (15 page)

“Why do I feel like I’m being fed to the lion?” June said, reaching for the door latch.

Just as she got her hand on it, Jerome stopped her.

“Wait,” whispered Jerome.

June stepped aside and let Jerome go to the door. He peeked out the peephole before turning to face her. “Leopold was supposed to have this talk with you earlier but he never had the chance. If anything should happen, we’ll need to use code names in case our communications channels are compromised.”

“What, like nicknames for each other?”

He nodded. “Leopold would be known as Whistles, and I would be called Happiness. But if something should happen, do exactly as you are told by either me or Leopold. Understand?”

“You choose those?”

“Understand?” he repeated. 

“Yeah, fine. But I seriously doubt…”

“Let me clue you in on something, Doctor. Just between you and me, if shit hits the fan, Mister Melendez is our client, not you. Mostly, you’d be on your own.”

In the hallway walking toward another suite, June asked, “If the two of you are Whistles and Happiness, what name have you given Jack?”

“You don’t need to know,” Jerome said. “It changes every day.”

“Okay, so who am I today?”

“Chickadee.”

June looked at him after she got the answer. “Oh really?”

“Nothing personal,” he told her, straight-faced.

Jerome opened Suite Three’s door to find Jack standing there. Leopold stood next to him. While June lingered at the door waiting for a prompt on what to do, Jerome went into the room to stand at the end of a short hallway. Jack smiled and stepped back into the middle of the room. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I had some work to finish,” Jack said to June. 

June went in right past Jerome and Leopold. At first glance, she could tell it was a mirror image of her suite. “Where are all the busy people in uniforms with computers and headsets talking on satellite link-ups solving Earth’s crises?” she asked.

“Soon enough, if everything goes well in the next few months.”

“I can’t talk to the Russian President?”

Jack smiled. “Maybe later.”

They looked at each other from a full step apart. 

“Thanks, guys,” Jack said to Jerome and Leopold. He shook Leopold’s hand. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

Leopold grunted. “A pleasure, Jack. As always.” 

Jack went to his room door and opened it. “We’ll be fine.”

“Mr. Melendez…” started Jerome.

“Both you and Leopold have secured the room and floor, yes?” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir.”

“And there is another room next door, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well?”

“One of us will be outside the door at all times if you need anything, Mr. Melendez,” Jerome said, stiffly. He turned to leave and Leopold followed, one final glance at June. Those eyes again. 

Jack shut the door on both of them. He turned his attention back to June.

“So…” she said, feeling a little lost for words. 

“Is your room comfortable?” he asked.

She kept her eyes on him. “It’s great. Too big. What am I supposed to do with all the space?”

“Anything you want. Have you looked in the refrigerator yet?” 

“Wasn’t hungry.”

He went to his. Opening the small household-sized fridge, she was surprised that it was well stocked. Milk for cereal, cream for coffee, butter and jams, fruits and vegetables for snacking or even cooking. On the top were several packets of instant ramen. Far too much for just a weekend.

“You have the same in yours,” he said. 

June opened the freezer. There were two tubs of ice cream inside. One carton was mint chip, her favorite. The other was rocky road.

“Okay, so how’d you know I like mint chip?” she asked with a smile, closing the freezer door again.

“You mentioned it once.”

She took a step closer to him. “Oh? When?”

“When I was still in hospital in Balboa. There was no reason for you to keep coming for visits, but every Saturday, there you were. Well, one time you said you were going to stop for ice cream on your way home. I asked what kind, and you said mint chip.” His smile had drifted away while he explained. “I got it right, didn’t I?”

“Yes, it seems your memory is intact, sir,” she said, hoping the doctor-like formality of it sounded playful. She took one last step, putting herself directly in front of him. “Maybe I should proceed with the rest of your neurological evaluation now.”

“There isn’t much you haven’t examined.”

“There are still one or two autonomic responses that I could check,” she said.

“Which are?”

“You’ll find out.” She felt a little warm, almost hot, over-dressed for the moment. Her arms ached, wanting to hold him. “Or maybe we’ll find out at the same time.”

Once she saw his smile, she leaned in, reaching her arms around him. In her bare feet, she wasn’t as tall as he was, her face only reaching to his shoulder. It felt good there, and taking a deep breath, could tell he had showered in the time since dinner.

His arms were around her, one staying at the small of her back, while the other slid up to her neck, and then to her head. She looked into his eyes, and couldn’t wait any longer.

“Jack…” was all she could whisper before their mouths met.

He held the embrace. When they separated again, they agreed on ice cream and television for a while. By the time she got back to him on the couch, with both cartons and two spoons in her hands, he had the television tuned to a Spanish language international news show.

“When you said TV,” June said, “I thought maybe the late show or old reruns of Mister Ed we could make fun of. But I gotta tell ya, watching the news just doesn’t put a girl in the mood.”

She handed over the rocky road ice cream to him and took the lid off her mint chip.

“Just give me a half hour of news so I can get caught up,” he said. They sat quietly, eating ice cream. June ate half her small carton before setting it aside. She was beginning to wonder if all executive wives eventually became news widows.

Wife?
she thought.
Where the hell did that come from?

“So, where’s Kevin and the rest of the campaign gang?” she asked. “Shouldn’t someone be prompting you on what to do and say next?”

“They went on to D.C. from Spokane. Why? I thought you wanted the weekend to ourselves?”

“I do. But it almost feels a little lonely now that someone isn’t lurking nearby to feed you a campaign sound bite.” She smiled. 

Jack sucked down another spoonful of rocky road. “Just enjoy the privacy while you can get it. I went to a lot of trouble to arrange this weekend for us to be together.” He sounded irritated. 

Instead of pursuing the topic any further and risk sleeping alone, she changed the subject. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she said. “They have a nice selection in here.” She went back to the fridge, put the half-eaten mint chip away. Jack flicked off the TV and joined her in the small kitchen.

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” Jack said. “Not much of a drinker at all, really.”

“Neither am I. For whatever reason, I lost my taste for it a couple years ago.” June set the bottle down that she had selected. It had been one of her favorites in the past. She watched as he put the rocky road back in the freezer, lining up both labels so they faced directly to the front.

“Rocky road, huh?” she said, playfully. 

“That’s what does it for me.”

“Oh, I get it now. A presidential candidate, rocky road. Very clever,” June said. She reached out and played with a button on his shirt. The crisp white shirt and necktie he wore at dinner were gone, replaced with a simple blue pullover and jeans. “But are you clever enough to know what to do with me next?”

Their mouths met again, exchanging ice cream flavors.

“Would you like to spend the night?” she asked quietly.

“You mean go back to your room?”

“No, here. I’m commandeering this room for the night.” She kissed him again. “Make up your mind,” she said when their lips parted.

“But which is your room?” 

“Both.” She turned off the light over the fridge and gave him their longest kiss yet. “I’m getting horny, and you need to do something about that,” she whispered. “And no fair calling Kevin for advice.”

She pecked him on the cheek before breaking free from his arms. She started walking toward the bedroom, leading him by the hand. With her other hand, she pulled her blouse over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Jack grinned, but didn’t move a muscle.

“What’s this?” June said. “A leading presidential candidate, possibly soon one of the most influential people in world politics, and now you can’t make the simple little decision of spending the night with a moderately attractive and highly neurotic woman?” She finished undressing and killed the lights. Force of habit. 

The entire suite instantly plunged into darkness. At that moment, June realized she didn’t mind if he saw her, even with the lights on. Her body had become a sensitive subject in recent years. Not because of her figure, but the scars that raged across her back in several directions. Most were smooth and pale, but a couple were thick and dense. In the dark of the moment, though, none of that mattered.

She turned to face him again. “Are you staying? Or are you sleeping in the hallway with the mice and roaches?”

“You’ve got my vote.” As he pulled his shirt off, June worked on his belt and fly. She could see him pull off his socks. With her head on the pillow, she watched as he folded his clothes neatly and set them on the dresser, including the socks. As soon as he was done with that, she scooted over in bed to let him in under the blankets. She reached down and caressed him. 

“Neurologic exam complete. All autonomic responses intact,” she whispered. He was ready for her, and she knew she was ready too. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see his mouth, his wonderful wet mouth.

She rolled over on top of him, rubbed him with her hip, and leaned down for a smothering kiss. When she let him have a breath, she had a question for him. 

“So, this is a really shitty time to ask about this, but did you come prepared?”

“In the bathroom…”

“Well, go get one if you want anything more.”

He jumped out, ran to the bathroom, and was back in bed so fast his feet didn’t even get cold.

Chapter 23

THE CORRIDOR WAS dimly lit, warm. Leopold paced the carpet while Jerome stood by the door to Melendez’s suite. He stared ahead, hands folded in front of him, not speaking. Glancing at Leopold as he strode back and forth, eyes flicking left to right. The only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning.

“Something bothering you,” Jerome said. It didn’t sound like a question. 

Leopold stopped pacing. “Something about this job stinks.” 

“That’s just the boredom talking.” 

“I’m not a fan of security work, you know that.” He added, “No offense.” 

“It’s considerably more of an effort when the client insists on being a stubborn ass,” Jerome said. “No offense.” 

“Jack only just got here. Give him time.” 

Jerome sighed. “So what’s the issue?” 

“It’s the odds. Even the best teams slip up. It’s unavoidable. No way to plan for every eventuality; threats always get through once in a while. Hell, a good season would be three or four near misses. On a good run.”

“Yeah. But it’s our job to make sure any breach doesn’t lead to a kill. We can’t keep Mr. Melendez in a bulletproof cage the whole time.”

“More’s the pity.” Leopold started pacing again. “Which brings me back to my original point. Why the hell does Jack want us here?” 

“Like you said, he wants someone who’ll let him off on his own. Give him some leeway. And after the Santiago mess, he doesn’t trust the usual guys to get the job done.” He paused. “I guess he must have read about what you’ve been getting up to.” 

“And why now? Why hire us for this? It’s the biggest event in the Seattle calendar. Secret Service are crawling around the place.” 

“Maybe he’s trying to prove something. He is running for office, after all. Sending a message to the voting public. A message of strength, maybe.”

“Or maybe he has something to hide. Or maybe he just thinks he can push us around. Whatever the reason, it’s foolish. The Secret Service is better equipped to keep him safe.”

“Speaking of which, we’re due a visit.” 

Leopold heard the elevator chime. “Speak of the devil.” 

Two men appeared from around the corner. Ugly black suits, white shirts, blue ties. A look of irritation on their square faces. Clean-shaven, cropped dark hair. They could have been twins. 

“Welcome to the party,” Leopold said. “Things are just getting heated up.” 

The agent on the left ignored him. “We’re here for Mr. Melendez’s detail,” he said. “Weak spots are the doors and elevator. We’ll take point.” 

“I need a goddamn drink,” Leopold said. “You three can handle this.” 

“You’re on duty,” said Jerome. 

“I’m also the one in charge here.” He saw the two agents open their mouths to speak.  He cut them off. “Whatever Harper might have told you, this is a civilian operation. You two are here to support. And I’m telling you I need a break. I need to think.”