Yeah.
Right.
"Apparently
the blondes have noticed. Good grief, I think the one on the left just copped a
feel."
Candy
blew out a bubble and popped it ferociously. "That bitch."
"What
was that?"
"I
said, maybe he had an itch."
Gwenyth
studied her glass of tea.
Yeah. Right
. "Yes. Perhaps the blonde was
just scratching it for him."
Candy
had heard enough. Standing up abruptly, she spit out her gum, wrapped it up in
a cocktail napkin, and handed it over to Gwenyth. "I'll call you later,
Gwen," she announced without glancing backward toward her best friend.
Candy's
stiletto heels clicked on the polished wood floors of the seafood bar and
grille as she sauntered seductively toward Brian. Her large violet eyes never
left his face as she sashayed up to where he stood and peered up at him. Brian swallowed
harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
All
eyes turned toward the pair. It was as if time in the restaurant had come to a
stand still.
And
then it happened.
Candy
grabbed Brian by the back of the neck, pulled his face down to meet hers, and
boldly thrust her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him like that for what felt
like an eternity to Gwenyth. Candy's attention was never once distracted, not
even when the patrons began making whistling sounds and cat calls.
And
then she released him. With the same gusto and flair, Candy pivoted on her high
heels and strutted out of the bar, not even bothering to look back.
Bemused,
Gwenyth craned her neck around to gage Brian's reaction. Oh yes, there would be
a story there. And if Brian Goodman could close his gaping jaw long enough to
make his next move, the story would probably end pretty interesting.
Gwenyth
left the post office at a quarter till four, figuring she had about two hours
left to pick up some dinner and get it home in time to meet her hungry husband.
Sam always came home famished from ball practice, and since her day was
typically over and done with a good two hours before his, she was generally the
one that took care of supper time.
Gwenyth
put the keys in the ignition of her jeep and the engine croaked to life.
Literally. Frowning, Gwenyth made a mental note to tell Sam that it was time
for her to get a new car. The jeep had definitely seen better days.
Pulling
out of the parking lot, Gwenyth made a left at the light and headed toward a
Greek diner down the road that carried Sam's favorite gyros and baked the best
baklava Gwenyth had ever eaten on this side of the Mediterranean. Grinning, she
patted her belly and cooed to the baby. "It's okay, little one. Mommy's
hungry for something sweet too."
Gwenyth
glanced inattentively into the rearview mirror, then back to the road ahead.
Frowning, she peered into the mirror again to make certain she had really seen
what her distracted eyes had told her she had.
Unfortunately,
her vision hadn't failed her. The white sedan was back.
Biting
her lip, Gwenyth coasted into the parking lot of the Greek diner and veered
into a parking space in front of it. Turning around in her seat, she waited to
see what the white sedan would do.
Much
to Gwenyth's chagrin, it pulled up behind the jeep, effectively blocking her
into the parking space. Her heart racing, she clutched her belly and breathed
deeply as she waited for the scene to play out. Very slowly, so slow that it
felt like something out of a nightmare, the driver's side window rolled down.
"Devin,"
she
murmured.
Gwenyth's
green eyes rounded to saucers as the lawyer saluted her with the well-known
two-fisted symbol commonly used by NAM supporters. The calculating glimmer in
his dark, lifeless eyes sent shivers down her spine. The man was crazy. He was
going to kill her. He would never stop until she was dead or he was in prison.
Or both.
And
then he drove away. Leisurely. Like he had all the time in the world. The wink
Devin gave Gwenyth before pulling out of the parking lot suggested that their
paths would cross again. He'd see to it.
Gwenyth
turned around in her seat and closed her eyes while she collected herself. She
would just have to make certain that they never did.
* * * * *
"I
just got off the phone with my company. Devin hasn't shown up for work in over
a week." Marc let out a long sigh, then gestured toward Sam. "When
will Detective Anderson be here?"
"About
thirty minutes." Sam stroked Gwenyth's hair as he held her securely on his
lap. "Unless he comes up with a full proof plan, I'm backin' out of my
contract and stayin' at home to watch over my wife."
Gwenyth's
head shot up. "Sam, you can't do that. It will cost us too much
money."
"I
don't give a damn about the money, Gwenyth Marie."
"Well
I do." She patted him reassuringly on the hand. "Don't worry, honey.
I'll stay with Candy if need be."
Sam
rolled his eyes. He snorted disbelievingly. "Is that supposed to make me
feel better or worse?"
"Hey!"
Candy piped up for the first time since she'd arrived. "Just what does
that mean?"
"It
means that I've met detonated bombs with more stability than you."
Candy
thrust her hands indignantly to her hips. "Name one."
Sam
shook his finger and glowered. "Now listen here—"
"Enough."
Gwenyth closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "You know Candy would
never do anything to endanger me or the baby, Sam. You owe her an
apology."
Sam
gritted his teeth at the haughty look Candy threw his way, but relented in the
end. "Oh alright, damn it. Candy, I apologize. I'm sure you have more
stability than the majority of detonated bombs out there on the market today,
blowin' up land mines and derailin' passenger trains."
Candy
lifted an ebony brow. "In the history of apologies, that was the worst
apology that I've ever had the misfortune of being subjected to."
Sam
blew out a beleaguered breath. "Probably." Running his hand
frenziedly through his hair, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed again.
"I'm sorry, Can. I know you'll watch over Gwenyth better than anybody. I
just hate the fact that it can't be me."
Candy
strolled over to where Sam and Gwenyth sat and took his hand between her own.
"I know, Sam.
It
will be alright. I promise."
Sam
squeezed Candy's hand and grunted. "Let's just hope the police find this
maniac soon."
Marc
scratched his head thoughtfully. "Maniac is probably the key word
here."
Gwenyth
moaned. "Please don't get my husband riled up."
Marc
held up his palms in a gesture of mock surrender and grinned. "I'm not
trying to, I swear it." His expression grew serious. "But Gwen, let's
face it. There's something seriously off about that guy."
Sam
shot to his feet and stomped over to the phone. Gwenyth waved her hand toward
him. "Who are you calling?"
"I'm
callin' Harry in D.C. I want him to pull a few strings and get us some more
help on this case."
"Do
you think he can?"
"At
this point anything's worth a try."
* * * * *
Even
though Gwenyth felt that, at times, her situation resembled that of a chicken
penned up in its coop, the next few days passed by well enough. It seemed as if
she and Candy spent more time together in three days than they'd spent in the
last year. Gwenyth mused to herself that when spring training had finally
arrived, she'd basically ended up trading in one prison guard for another. And
Candy was taking her duty altogether seriously.
Gwenyth
rubbed her slightly distended belly absently while she flipped through channels
on Candy's remote control powered TV. Candy was sitting across the room at her
computer, typing up a love scene with one hand and drinking a cup of coffee
with the other. Occasionally she would mumble something unintelligible, but
other than that, the only sound that could be heard from her corner was the
clicking of the keyboard.
An
hour later, Candy turned off her computer and groaned as she stretched out her
shoulder muscles. Gwenyth flipped off the remote and grinned.
"Tired?"
"Yeah."
Candy popped a piece of bubble gum into her mouth, chewed it for all of thirty
seconds, then spit it into a nearby tissue. "Good lord, I'm so tired I
can't even chew gum."
Gwenyth
rested her chin in the palms of her hands and smiled. "Is that the book
about the nun and the ex-con?"
Candy
picked up her cup of coffee and padded across the room. "No. I finished
that one already. This is a short story I'm working on for an anthology."
"Oh?
What's it about?" The rising height in Candy's coloring made Gwenyth's
curiosity soar. "Come on, Can. Do tell."
Candy
plopped down onto the sofa cushion next to Gwenyth and shrugged. "A
baseball player, I think," she muttered. She took a quick sip of coffee
before adding, "And it's not based on Brian Goodman either, okay?"
Gwenyth
pretended to study her cuticles. "What's the hero's name?"
Candy
raised her cup up to her lips. "I forget," she mumbled. At Gwenyth's
raised eyebrows she elaborated, "It's Ryan Hoodman, okay?"
Gwenyth
hrrumphed. No connection to Brian Goodman indeed. "So tell me, Can,"
she teased, "is Ryan Hoodman good in bed?"
Candy
had the grace to blush—profusely. "I wouldn't know. I've never had him. He
isn't real."
"He's
very real," Gwenyth murmured.
"Trust
me, Gwen. No man is really as nice as Brian—I mean Ryan—pretends to be. In the
end they are all scuzz-balls."
Gwenyth
patted her best friend's hand as she took to her feet. Candy would have to get
over that particular problem on her own. "Sam will be home in an hour, so
I'm going to head out and pick up some dinner."
"Do
you want me to come with you?"
Gwenyth
shook her head and grinned. "No, you've done more than your fair share of
babysitting today. Go get some rest."
"You're
sure?"
"I'm
sure."
Candy
stared at Gwenyth for a drawn out moment before acquiescing with a nod.
"Okay, but drive carefully."
"Relax,"
Gwenyth chuckled, "how dangerous can Chinese take-out be?"
After
exiting
Mr.
Wok's Drive-Thru Palace
, Gwenyth's jeep got no
further than three lights down the street before it stalled. Hitting the
dashboard with the heel of her hand, she cursed the engine, and tried to
restart the ignition. No luck.
Sighing,
Gwenyth reached into her purse and switched on her cell phone. When it made a
series of three loud beeps, she flipped it over and peered down at it. Low
battery. Laughing humorlessly, she tried once more to ignite the jeep's engine.
"How much worse can this night get?" she muttered to herself.
A
few moments later, a white sedan eased up next to Gwenyth on the nearly
deserted side street and coasted up beside the jeep. Swallowing nervously, she
took the keys out of the ignition and wrapped her fingers around the key on her
ring with the sharpest edge to it.
Devin
disembarked from the white sedan and walked slowly toward the jeep. Gwenyth
could tell he was wearing something akin to cowboy boots for she could hear
every click of his gait pounding towards her. Determined not to get cornered
inside of her own automobile, Gwenyth slammed opened the driver's side door and
stood up. "Devin."
Devin
stopped a few paces back from the jeep's door and grinned. His smile was
unnatural, his eyes the same fathomless pits they had been at their last
meeting. "The name's Devin Green, Mrs. Trevianni, but perhaps you already
know that." His gaze flickered around the empty street. "Getting
kinda dark, don't you think?"
Gwenyth
ignored the chill bumps making gooseflesh of her skin and concentrated instead
on figuring a way around the larger man. "Are you threatening me,
Devin?" she asked quietly.
The
lawyer smiled. "No ma'am, I never threaten."
"What
do you want from me?"
Devin's
sickening gaze roamed the length of Gwenyth's body. "What do you think I
want?" he said just as quietly.
Gwenyth
needed to hear no more. With a strength she didn't even know she possessed, she
slammed the jeep's door into Devin's legs and knocked him to the ground.
Without looking back, she then fled into the night.
* * * * *
Candy
paced the length of her living room recklessly. There was no answer at
Gwenyth's and Sam's and she knew that Gwen should have been home by now. Candy
thought back on every word of conversation that had passed between them before
her best friend had left. Gwenyth had definitely mentioned picking up Chinese
food on the way home. That could only mean
Mr. Wok's
. It was her
favorite.