Slightly Imperfect (29 page)

* * *

Zac gave their first day out a superior rating.

Ariana learned to say, "I love you, Zac," and announced it repeatedly over lunch. Marcus, after minimal coaxing, showed his adventuresome spirit by plunging off the back of the Irish into the blue abyss of the Gulf and Zac's waiting arms. To Zac's delight, Victoria lost her bikini top when she followed Marcus's brave lead. Miraculously, Alex took an extra long nap and, somewhere in the night, Victoria re-entered Zac's bunk, keeping the morning's promise.

Memory of her smothered cries drifted onto the sweltering darkness and whispered into his craving long after she had gone.

"
That's good, Zac. So good. Oh—yes. Oh God, I—
" She had arched, run rigid.
"—love you. I love you. It's so good
."

He heard the words in his mind every time he captured her green glance at breakfast the following morning. The way she delicately blotted milk from Ari's upper lip with one hand and caressed his inner thigh beneath the table with her free hand, intrigued him.

Victoria was two women, and Zac was in love with both.

* * *

Zac and Josh sat parked across the street from Fischer's Landing in a private drive, tucked into the shadow of an eerily waving willow. Josh had removed a FOR SALE sign from the yard to prevent attracting the attention of passing traffic.

"So what if it's not tonight, Mr. Z? What if it was last night? Or tomorrow night."

"It wasn't last night. Gerald would have told me when I talked to him today. It won't be tomorrow night because Ian knows I'll be back. It's tonight."

"How do you know?" Zac heard curious awe, not skepticism.

"Telepathy is a gift, Josh. Not always a comforting one."

Josh mimicked the old
Twilight Zone
theme.

"Yeah," Zac agreed, his smile begrudging. "There he is." A white pickup truck passed slowly. "Right on time. Accommodating bastard."

Ian never drove the truck to work, but Zac had seen it at Maggie's, and he'd known the Nissan hatchback wouldn't do for the petty high stakes Ian planned tonight. He removed the jeep key, stuck it in his pocket, swung his legs through the open door to the concrete. "Bring the flashlights. I'll bring Delilah."

Josh's breathing took on an abrupt, asthmatic quality. Zac felt his own tension oozing from his sweat glands, felt his throat close up a little, his breathe turn ragged. Delilah leaped from the rear of the jeep, stood close by his leg, sensing his mood. They began walking along the tree-shrouded street, their athletic shoes treading quietly, except for an occasional twig or pebble.

The truck turned in at Fischer's Landing, the lights doused predictably. Ian would find his raid a little more complicated now, though. An express-ordered, chain-link fence had gone in four days before, complete with a sliding gate, chained and secured with a mammoth padlock.

They slowed, stopped in the shadow of a banana tree gone wild. Zac whispered for Josh to listen.

"For what?"

"Bolt cutters."

A stealthy silhouette, easily detectable in the light from a passing car, moved to the truck bed, then crossed to the gate.

"Hear that?" Zac said, after the solid, snapping sound of the lock being cut, the clank of a chain swinging, banging. Zac smiled to himself. Ian was neither smart enough, nor quick enough, to catch the hardware before it fell, echoing on the blacktop.

"How'd you know he'd use cutters?" Zac heard Josh's grin.

"The gate is too new for him to have hustled a key." And Maggie hadn't been given one. No one had, other than Gerald and Zac.

The truck pulled through the gate, the engine vibrating powerfully, resounding in the early summer night. Ian was more of a souped-up-car-freak than an astute thief.

"Give him a chance to get inside the lot."

Ian pulled the truck across the lot; brake lights flashed, backed toward them a moment, then veered toward the metal shack.

"You okay, Josh?"

"Yeah."

"Scared?"

"Yeah."

"Me, too."

"I like it, Mr. Z."

Zac liked it too, because it would lead to the elimination of this problem. He imagined drawing a wide, black line through Ian McCumber's name, taking him off his problem list. Maggie's list too.

"Don't get hung up on the feeling, Josh. There's not much future in living off events dramatic enough to scare you."

"Is that my lesson for tonight, Mr. Z?"

Zac chuckled. If he never got to teach philosophy in the Houston ghetto, maybe he could impart wisdom to Josh and see the results first hand.

"Yeah. That and God's third commandment."

"Thou shalt not steal."

"You've got it."

They advanced to the supply yard, just inside the gate, after hearing the second lock clank open, thud on the blacktop. Delilah padded beside them, her nails clicking a perfect pattern against the pavement. Zac felt her neck straining against the short leash. He reached down, rehearsing the hinge that would free her. They waited a lifetime beside the hood of the truck before Ian reappeared in the open shed door.

"Now," Zac said. Two synchronized lights blinded Ian.

"Hey!" Ian called out, a benign reaction, Zac thought. Ian's arms circled two fat rolls of insulation that he peered around, straining, blinking. "Who the fuck—"

That got lost in the click of the leash, and Zac's soft directive. "Okay, Delilah."

Delilah's reaction renewed his faith in animal loyalty. She bounded forward, sucked her tail end into her shoulders and sprang through the open air onto Ian's chest. A chest made vulnerable in a panic-spurred, split-second reaction when he dropped his intended haul. He fell back, half inside the door.

Josh and Zac moved forward in perfect unison, bearing down with the flashlights, keeping him blinded. He writhed on the blacktop, unwisely. With each move her victim made, Delilah's teeth tore more forearm flesh.

"Delilah," Zac called. A split decision presented itself, but decency won out. "Delilah, stop."

She opened her mouth, releasing the mangled arm. Ian moaned, drew his arm to his ribcage, glaring wildly into the light.

"Goddamn you, Abriendo," he ground out above the low, throaty growl of his abuser.

Zac strode forward, snapped the leash in place.

"I told you, Ian." He felt calm now, his breath evened out. He smelled resolution. "Do you remember when I told you?" He caught the front of Ian's tank shirt. This one read HARD ROCK BEVERLY HILLS in the debilitating light. It ripped. Ian fell back. Zac grabbed the wounded, bloody arm, jerked. "Get up, and take the rest of what I promised you."

Ian scrambled to his feet, slipping, gaining balance by clutching Zac's leg. Zac stepped back, kicked at him, felt the hard bone of Ian's knee against the toe of his shoe, heard a crunching sound. Ian went down again. Zac lifted his foot, placed it on Ian's thigh.

"I'm going to stomp you." He consciously eased the strain on the leash. Delilah bounced forward. Ian cowered. Zac jerked the leash, raised his foot again, and Josh moved in on cue.

"That's enough." Josh caught Zac's arm. Zac wrestled away. Josh restrained him, just as they'd rehearsed.

Ian scrambled to his feet, his arms out forward, palms spread in an almost feminine gesture. "Let it go, Abriendo," he rasped. "I give. Let's drop it."

Zac let the leash out. Delilah caught a leg of Ian's khaki shorts, swung on them, her feet leaving the ground. Ian backed haphazardly. The shed door clanged shut, trapping him with no place to hide. Josh lunged for Delilah's collar, pulled her off.

"Give me the old key." Zac held out his hand.

Ian fumbled in his pocket, held the key out.

Delilah growled.

Zac addressed Ian's nameless rescuer. "Call the police."

"No!" Ian almost screamed it. "No. Don't do that. I've got a family. I can't go to jail."

Zac wished for Maggie.

He held the light inches from Ian's nose. "What can you do, Ian?"

"Quit. I'll quit, Zac." He pushed the light aside. Josh raised his light, centered it on wild eyes. "I'm out of here. Don't file charges. I'll bring the stuff back. All of it."

"No, thanks. We make it a point not to use contaminated products. You keep it. Look at it now and then and ask yourself if it was worth it—but don't sell the stuff, because I'll hear about it, and Delilah and I will come alone next time."

"I'll burn it."

"Don't burn it."

"Okay. Whatever."

"Take it with you when you move out of Galveston County, because you won't be able to get a job around here hanging fly strips—not to mention cabinets."

Ian ripped the torn shirt over his head, wrapped it around his mangled arm. "Right. I hear you."

"Don't come for your check."

"No way." He limped to the truck, opened the door.

"And, Ian?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever see Maggie again. Don't even say goodbye. Don't call her. Don't think about her. I've got a witness here." Ian had never gotten a look at Josh's face, couldn't come back on him. "If you ever contact Maggie, Fitzpatrick Enterprises will file charges and you'll rot in jail."

"No problem."

Not anymore.

Ian got in, started the truck, and pulled away.

Zac and Josh watched in silence until Josh's breath evened out.

"Let's put this back." Zac nudged a bundle of insulation with his toe. "Then let's get back to that boat, Josh, and those women. Let's get back in touch with the sanity in our lives."

"Let's do it, Mr. Z. We're lovers, not fighters."

* * *

Zac saved the new Disney movie for their last afternoon on the
Irish
. He instated the whole crew, including Sylvania, in the main salon to watch. Figuring the fresh movie was good for a couple of consecutive run-throughs at least. He then invited himself into Victoria's hallowed, air-conditioned stateroom.

After making love, he shared his foremost thought. "We have to get married."

"Have to?" She sat in bed, legs folded, the sheet draped loosely across her lap, naked from the waist up. Her fingers trailed in a feathery touch up and down the length of his body. "Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful, Zac?"

His smile served as a disclaimer.

"You are. From every angle, in every way. Sometimes—when we're apart—I wonder if you're really this beautiful. I convince myself you can't be." She smiled, ran her hand up his inner thigh, stopped strategically. "But you are."

"We
have
to get married."

Smiling, she moved her hand.

"This isn't high school," he said. "We can't keep grabbing bits and pieces of each other on the sly. We're running out of Disney movies. I just want to be able to announce I'm taking you to bed when I want to make love to you."

"Announce to whom?"

"To your children. They'll be our children then. It won't come as a big shock to anyone else."

"I've
been
married, Zac. It ruined a perfectly good sexual relationship." She did, however, keep smiling.

"You haven't married Mexican yet. We like sex. Even after the ceremony."

"No, I haven't." She stretched out beside him, on her stomach, tucked her arms neatly up against her breasts. Centerfold material. She sought his mouth, kissed him wetly, convincingly, then pulled back to meet his eyes. Hers were green orbs of promise. "But I'd like to marry this Mexican."

"When?" He propped on his elbow, head in his hand.

"Now. This moment. I'd love that."

"That's a yes. I recognize it. No stipulations, either."

"No stipulations. But we should do it right."

"Yeah. I want to do it right. Big wedding. Reception in the Valdez ballroom.

Honeymoon on the
Irish
, sans crew." He ceased holding his breath when she didn't get that crease between her brows. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect. Coby will give me away." She smiled. "If he's having a charitable day."

"Done," he assured her. "We'll have lots of
cafe-au-lait
babies, and I want to adopt your children. I want all of us to have the same name."

The crease came, but she smiled through it, caressing his face. "I doubt Christian will let you do that. Is the deal off?"

"He'll let me, once he sees it's for the best."

He watched hesitance form before she whispered, "You can't take Marcus's father's name away from him."

"Marcus never really knew Tomas Cordera. I'll be his father now. Think about it, Victoria. It's right. We'll be a beautiful family."

She lowered her cheek to her folded arm, her eyes away from him, thinking, he hoped.

He continued selling. "I can't tell you there won't be disagreements. Probably most of

them will be over the children. But I can promise you no disagreement will involve apathy. I care and you'll know it."

"I love your positive nature, Zac. You make me believe."

She made
him
believe it was perfect, sane and viable.

* * *

Coby waited on the dock when they pulled in. Zac hadn't recognized him under the dim, bug-infested dock lights. Just someone tall and rangy.

"Coby!" Victoria raced into his arms the moment the gangplank was lowered, Zac's juices not yet cold in her body.

"Co-bee!" Ariana echoed as Zac followed, bearing her and Alexander.

"Cool," he heard Marcus say, and hoped it was going to be.

"Hey, guy." Coby called to Zac, smiling over Victoria's head. "Nice boat."

"Yeah." Zac accepted the outstretched hand awkwardly, gripping Alex in the crook of his arm to keep from dropping him.

A sudden, irrational image of Tomas Cordera's boat and all he'd read about his murder ripped through Zac's mind, until he squelched it. He thought of his sisters, Carmen and Concepcion, and wondered how many years it would take him to run into their arms if one of them had killed Victoria.

Zac made himself offer, "You could have come on the
Irish
with us. I didn't know you were home." He looked to Victoria for the answer.

"He wasn't." Her joy proved a little scary. "But he is now."