Chapter Four
Penny brushed her teeth, twisted the longer lengths of her hair into a knot at the back of her head, and slipped into a reasonably tatter-free robe. She didn’t really care what Jake thought of her morning look, but it didn’t mean she had to be a slouch.
When she strolled into the kitchen, Mandy sat alone at the table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.
“Rock star sleeping in this morning?” Penny pulled a coffee mug from the shelf.
“Nope.” She glanced up then returned to her reading. “He’s been gone for over an hour. Headed down to Phoenix.”
“Oh.” Like a soft punch to the solar plexus, the air left her lungs.
Her housemate snickered, but didn’t take her gaze from the paper. “He’ll be back.”
She ignored the snicker and sing-song response and poured coffee. After adding cream, she plopped in the chair across from her friend.
“Well, well.” Mandy raised her gaze with a cocked brow. “Hair combed, and I’ll bet the morning breath is gone.”
“Yeah, so? I don’t always roll right out of bed to the kitchen.” She pulled a bottom section of the paper out from under her housemate’s elbow.
Mandy rubbed a hand across her mouth as if suppressing a laugh. “Sure. Whatever. You two crack me up. Neither of you wants to admit there’s an attraction.”
“Hardly.” Jake attracted to me?
Penny skimmed the newsprint in front of her and sipped coffee. In her peripheral vision, her friend squinted with a smirk on her face.
“Oh come on. To use one of your favorite avowals, ‘get over it.’ He’s here, and you need to find a way to deal with what you really feel, tough girl.”
She waved a finger in the air. “Your brother might not be the rock-stud anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed.”
The smirk fell away. “He never really changed, Penny. His personality…altered…briefly. Sadly. If you knew the real Jake, you’d know what I mean.”
Her defensive posture evaporated with the sadness in her friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” Bad-mouthing a beloved brother to his sister was bad form. Unfortunately, just thinking about Jake Winters spiked her emotions and had her acting out.
Mandy let go of the newspaper and set her coffee mug on top. With a dreamy slant to her expression, she sighed. “Jake and I had a great childhood. He was the perfect big brother protector—in a sweet, peaceful kind of way. I forever got myself in a bind.”
A chuckle deep in her housemate’s throat made Penny smile.
“He had my back and saved my ass with Mom and Dad on more than one occasion.” Gray eyes sparkled with long ago memories. “He was the wholesome, high school track star with good grades and considered a hunk by every female. If anything, he was too nice.” Mandy gripped her mug, her lips pinched. “I nearly strangled one prissy bitch who broke his heart.” Relaxed again, she sighed. “And so talented. I thought he’d be a famous novelist, but he liked writing songs better. He was the brains behind the band, too. They’d never even have gotten their first gig if it hadn’t been for Jake. But that nice guy mentality let a manager bilk the band out of all the money.” Dark hair shifted with the shake of her head. “I don’t know how or why he got caught up in the drugs. Even nice, wholesome guys can make mistakes. But the rude, crude dude who stepped over the line with you, was not the real Jake.”
She had to get past the rock star image, if Mandy intended on keeping him under the same roof. This other Jake would be worth getting to know. Her friend had pegged her inner thoughts—only yesterday, she’d vowed to get over it. Big words until visions of smoky gray eyes, long legs striding the stage, and the sound of his thigh-twitching, baritone voice plunked her right back into teenage fan mode. But no sooner did she shiver with those emotions than thoughts of the disrespect he’d shown crept into her head and snatched the butterflies floating in her stomach, stuffing them in a dark corner.
Yet, the guy Mandy described…nothing like what her memories had impressed upon her.
Penny rose to freshen her coffee. “I give. You might be a teensy bit biased, but I’ll go with your version and try to be nicer. For you.”
If I can get the rocker’s husky baritone out of my head.
****
Jake rounded the curve off South Milton Road onto East Route 66 and headed into downtown Flagstaff. His sister wanted to meet him for a late lunch at a Mexican restaurant called Kachina. She’d reminded him about all the one-way streets, and to park on Aspen before he came to the Grand View. There was no way to drive the narrow, congested downtown streets other than slow, so he browsed the shops and restaurants out his window.
The Ashurst came into view. All but forgotten memories surfaced about the theater. Flash Theory had played there. Ten years ago? Maybe more. He slowed further and scanned the billboards on each side of the double doors going into the theater. Originally the cultural center of the town in the 1930s, decades later, the building had been converted to a movie house, but now a local venue for bands and other entertainment to take the stage.
I’ll have to check out the scene, for old time’s sake.
The Grand View came into view ahead, and he pulled into the first open spot on the street. Following his sister’s directions, he walked past a hiker store and turned into what looked like an alley, but was a walkway. Halfway down, he came to the patio of the Kachina. Mandy waved from an inside window. Knowing his sister, she’d choose the patio if it had been open. Thankfully, the outside dining displayed a closed sign. The sun might be bright and the air not as cold as yesterday, but the temp still chilled him.
Pungent smells of chilies, red sauce, and frying tortillas wafted over him when he opened the door and stepped into the noisy restaurant. His mouth watered and his stomach awakened with a growl. Several plastic shopping bags rested under the table at his sister’s feet.
“Shopping, huh?”
“Had a few more Christmas presents to buy.”
He slid onto the blue leather bench of the booth. “Better not be anything for me.”
“Don’t be an old Scrooge.”
He shrugged out of his coat and stuffed it into the corner beside him. “Giving me a place to live and bankrolling me until I find a job is gift enough.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She crunched a chip. “You’re my brother. Shut up and look at the menu.”
After a young waiter took their order, Jake relaxed against the booth back. “I can’t say I’ll miss Phoenix…as long as I can get used to the cold here.” He dipped a chip into the bowl of spicy salsa and popped it into his mouth. “The job wasn’t going anywhere. I tried to call my boss again on the way down. He’ll pay me one of these days, but I can’t squeeze it out of him until he gets his money. Didn’t take long to pack up my belongings.”
“You’re here now.” Her fist thumped his hand. “Isn’t Flag beautiful today?”
“Yeah, yeah.” A drink of iced tea barely neutralized the heat on his tongue. “I’ll have to start searching for a job this afternoon. Picked up a local paper, but the Internet will probably net me more ideas. You do have a computer, right?”
“Of course.”
“Of course? You don’t even have a microwave. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a TV.”
“The microwave ban is Penny’s doing, and to tell you the truth, I don’t miss it. We have TV’s in our rooms. Penny doesn’t own a cell or computer. She’s technologically devoid of conveniences.” When he frowned, she held up her hand. “I don’t know why. That’s just Penny. So, are you going to look for another tile job?”
“Don’t really want to. I chose tile because that’s what Dad taught me. I didn’t particularly like the work then, and it’s not any better now. Just seemed the shortest route to earning a living. On the drive back here this morning, I tried to figure out what I might be good at or have some inclination toward. Hell, Angel, my resume is pretty thin.” He drew circles in the condensation on his glass. “Construction in the summer as a teen, and I can write.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jake.” She touched his hand. “You’re so smart.”
Smart didn’t describe his last few years. He gazed into her face and didn’t want to be the source of all the worry he saw there. “I’ll find something. Between the university, tourism, and the construction I saw driving into town, there’s work out there. Although, the construction looks pretty shut down for the winter.”
“Plates are hot,” the waiter warned as he slid dishes from his tray to the table. “Anything else, folks?”
Mandy scanned the table. “I’m good.”
“Me, too,” he answered. “Thanks.”
“You folks enjoy.” He moved to the next table.
“Well, while you look for a job, let’s enjoy the holidays and not get too bent if something doesn’t pop up immediately.” She cut into her chili relleno. “It’s a good time, though, with businesses wanting to get staff and crews set for the first of the year.”
Jake chewed while nodding his head. Allowing a couple of weeks wouldn’t hurt, but holidays or not, he’d have to head back to Phoenix if something didn’t come through. The big city had more jobs than Flagstaff. For now, his sister could keep her illusions.
“You want to go to a movie tonight?” Mandy asked.
He spooned salsa onto a taco. Spending time with Mandy was fun, but dollar signs kept floating into his vision with the meals she bought, gas money she gave him, and now movies. “I bet there’s plenty on TV I haven’t seen.”
“You don’t want to sit in my bedroom and watch the tiny screen. Let’s do a movie, and I’ll put it on your tab, if it’s the money you’re worried about.”
“Ehh.” He shook his head.
“Come on. I will. I really want to see the new Bond movie. I don’t have a man in my life right now to coerce into taking me.” She talked around a bite of egg, green chili, and cheese. “And Penny hates Bond movies.”
“Hates Bond movies? What kind of woman hates Bond movies?”
“Not Bond movies, per se. Just some of the Bonds. She’s old school Sean Connery. Or she’s okay with Pierce Brosnan.”
“Hmph.” Made about as much sense as some other facets of her personality.
“So pleeaasse, Bubba.”
“All right. But really, do start a tab.”
“I will, bro. With interest.”
Once back at Mandy’s, and his truck unloaded, he carried her laptop into his room and began a job search. Or at least tried. His sister found an excuse to stop and visit a few too many times, then dinner and off to the movie.
By the time they arrived back home, the only light in the house came from the kitchen window. Penny couldn’t have been home much more than an hour, but she must’ve gone to bed early. His sister kissed him goodnight on the cheek with a yawn.
In his room, he left the door cracked in case Penny might wander out while he found places for his belongings from Phoenix. The last thing he put away, the acoustic guitar from his high school years, held happy memories. He stood the treasured, old instrument in a corner of the room, sat on the bed, and surveyed his temporary digs. His breath came easy, shoulders relaxed, and a calm settled around him, but he had no idea why.
Don’t question a good thing.
He’d hoped to see Penny tonight—the Black Fairy. She certainly seemed to be spinning a little magic his way, even if she tried her hardest not to.
The house remained quiet, so he gave up and went to bed.
****
Saturday morning, Penny sweated under her thermal T-shirt, so she paused a moment, caught the snow shovel handle between her knees and shrugged out of the fleece overshirt. After tying it around her hips, and pulling her knitted cap more snugly over her ears, she made another pass down the driveway. At the bottom, she hefted the accumulation into the yard. The shovel scraped noisily as she pushed a path of snow back toward the house. Sometime around midnight, the sky had clouded up and dumped an inch and a half over the city and peaks. Now, after ten a.m., the bright blue sky displayed a few scattered puffs of clouds. Hardly enough snow remained to bother, but she enjoyed shoveling. The chill bit her cheeks, the scent of pine pierced the air, and the exertion served to energize her.
“Can I help?”
Jake stood on the front porch, hands shoved into his jean jacket, chin tucked as if trying to escape into his turtleneck. Just looking at him gave her a chill.
“You just roll out of bed?” She made a U-turn and continued toward the street on her last pass.
“No. Well, maybe about fifteen minutes ago. But who can sleep with all the racket you’re making?”
“You’re improperly dressed, and I’m about finished.” She paused and peeked over her shoulder. “Make sure there’s coffee when I get in.”
He flashed a smile that outdid the bright snow.
Crap. It’d be a lot easier to call a truce and make him a friend if he looked more like Mick Jagger instead of Jake Winters. And damned if the addition of a beard didn’t make him even more ruggedly handsome.
Penny trudged back along the driveway and stored the shovel next to Jake’s tools in the utility room. Entering the door off the carport and into the laundry room, she dumped her fleece shirt on a bench, slipped out of her boots, and pulled off her gloves. She pushed the cap back from her brows and wiped sweat from her forehead.
When she entered the kitchen, Jake sat at the table scanning a newspaper.
“Catching up on the local news?”
He rose and pointed to a chair. “Sit. I’ll pour.”
“Uh, thanks.”
When he measured the cream for her coffee exactly as she liked, she wondered how closely he’d watched her yesterday morning. She remembered he took his black.
They’d watched each other.
He put the full cups on the table and returned to his seat. “To answer your question, no, not reading news. I’m checking the help wanted column. See if there’s anything that wasn’t on-line.”
“Is there?” She sipped and peered at him over the rim of the cup.
“Babbitts is hiring package wrappers for a few weeks.”
She snickered. Imagining Jake wrapping packages while humming rock tunes was ridiculous. Then again, the number of women requiring package wrapping would go up.
“Yeah, not likely.” He agreed with her mental opinion. “And not permanent anyway.”
“What do you want to do?”
His thumb drummed against the coffee mug. She could almost hear the music in the rhythm. Sadness softly twisted her heart. He must miss his music. You can’t take the art out of an artist.
He sipped, set the mug down, and stared into her face. “I’m not sure. I’m taking one day at a time.” With a shake of his shoulders as if to shrug off his seriousness, he leaned back. “First, I need some cash flow.” He glanced around the kitchen and smiled. “My sister loves me, but she’s not going to let me mooch off of her forever. And living with two women…” A roll of his eyes finished his thought.
“Hey, watch it.” Hot coffee and Jake brought her temperature higher, and she pulled the sweater cap off, ruffling the top of her hair to minimize the hat-head look. The smell of her sweat wafted upward, escaping from the neck of her thermal, and urged her to hit the shower. “Thanks for making coffee.” She stood, carried her cup to the sink, and poured the remainder of the coffee down the drain. She put a couple of drops of dish soap in the mug and added a half-cup of hot water. As she swished the sponge in the soapy water, he came beside her.
“I can do that.”
He’d moved so close, she tensed. “That’s okay.”
Penny turned on the faucet to rinse, and he took the cup from her, his fingers lingering on hers. Her feet wouldn’t move when his elbow brushed against her as he dried. Stupidly, she stared at the soap bubbles disappearing down the drain. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he set the cup on the counter and folded the dishtowel.
When he took her shoulders into his hands and turned her to face him, she inhaled a shaky, deep breath. Her head swirled with the smell of coffee, dish soap, garlic in the basket by the stove, Jake’s earthy scent…and her sweat. She took a step back, but his hands remained.
“Penny—”
“Man, I stink.” A nervous chuckle bubbled up with the words. “I need a shower.”
“I want to say something first.”
She finally raised her gaze to meet his gray eyes. A wisecrack about keeping his hands where they were stuck in her throat.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted when we met years ago. I was full of myself and stoned off my ass.” He cleared his throat. “No excuse.” On a deep inhale, his fingers twitched and his jaw tensed for a moment. “Truth is, I do remember our meeting and…some…of how I acted. I also remember that later on, I thought of you, and felt remorseful.”
He continued to stare into her eyes while her heart pummeled her chest. His gaze held her so tight, she didn’t want to blink and miss even a nanosecond of his attention. She remembered every detail of their meeting, and if the truth be known, as appalling as his behavior had been, she often relived the memory of his hands on her.
“Um, could you say something? Do you accept my apology, or can we at least call a truce? Can’t we be friends?”
The last word jarred her. “Sure.”
She wouldn’t think about his hands, or falling into him, or covering his mouth with hers. Friends.
With another step back, she twisted her shoulders to break the contact. “I’ve really got to shower and, well, do some laundry.” The table chair got in the way as she turned and dashed toward the door. With a stumble, feeling awkward as a teenager, she reached the archway out of the kitchen.
He followed. “Penny?”
She stopped, braced herself against the wall, and caught her breath when he loomed inches away.
His face appeared next to hers, the light brush of his beard like a feather, and his lips grazed her cheek with a whispered, “Thank you.”
When she didn’t move, when she longed to feel his lips on hers, he stepped away with another whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re…welcome.” She dove into the hallway, released the breath she’d held, and gasped for more air as she lunged into her room.
****
Vince pulled into the outdoor parking lot on the corner of Fifteenth Avenue and Adams, near the capitol in downtown Phoenix. He could’ve parked closer to the Wesley Bolin Memorial Plaza, but preferred to stay a distance from where he knew the senator would park. A chance meeting would be the conclusion for anyone who might recognize either of them.
He zipped his jacket and strolled south, which led him directly into the urban park. Beyond the plaza, the dome of the State Capitol building rose against a cloudless blue sky. He followed the path to the Korean War Memorial. The four flags at each corner of the sloping, tiled roof atop four white pillars hung limp, but the day was cool. Thankfully, the sun warmed his shoulders and arms beneath the jacket. He stopped short of the structure, staying in the sun, and glanced around. Except for a couple sitting in the grass at the far northwest corner of the plaza, he was alone.
A stone bench on each side of the walkway faced the memorial and the capitol beyond. He touched the seat, decided the sun had heated it sufficiently, and sat down to wait. His gaze drifted to the words below the tiled roof and between the pillars. “Freedom Is Not Free.” He loosened the tie at his neck then zipped his jacket as high as it would go. Maybe he’d retire this year. At fifty, with twenty years in, he could. Would retirement gain him freedom from the senator? An uncle and some other relatives he’d never met on his father’s side lived in Mexico, some small town deep in the heart of the country. He could blend in well down there with his half Mexican and quarter Italian heritage. On his retirement, he could live like a king. If no longer part of the Bureau, there’d be nothing to keep him in the States.
Footsteps behind him jarred his reverie. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
He glanced up and into the freckled, smiling face of Senator Clyde Westingly. Vince nodded, but didn’t stand. The senator, already at least four inches taller than Vince, towered over him. Westingly looked boyishly wholesome for a man nearly sixty. His black-rimmed glasses added the right touch of implied intellect. Vince suspected his looks alone made him a popular candidate.
Westingly regarded the memorial and strolled to his left. His casual demeanor meant to detract from any possible speculation by others that their meeting came by anything but mere chance.
He continued to admire the structure, but turned halfway toward him. “Be brief.” The sun glinted off his glasses and obscured his trust-me-baby-blues.
“Jianna Ricci has surfaced.”
A smile flitted across the senator’s face. “Aren’t we lucky the FBI never closes a case?”
“That depends on which side of the fence you crouch.”
The politician threw a sneer into the air. “Where is she?”
“Flagstaff.”
“Ha!” This time, the senator smiled broadly. “Fate’s been working in my favor lately, Elams. Thursday, I’m scheduled to appear at party headquarters in lovely downtown Flagstaff. How opportune for my platform to get tough on crime and terror at every level of this country. An organized crime hit can happen anywhere, can’t it? An up close and personal reason why the Coconino county voters need me.”
Vince closed his eyes to the sun and the joy on the politician’s face.
“I’m wondering what’s the point of this meeting.” Westingly’s voice went from joyful to low and menacing.
He opened his eyes. The couple on the far side of the park stood then strolled toward a parking lot, casting a glance in their direction.
Westingly caught the movement along with Vince, and pointed as if speaking about the memorial. The senator displayed keen interest with head nodding and gesturing. “If you were hoping for a different game plan, perhaps something more creative in dealing with this matter, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Your order stands.”
Creative? Game?
“She hasn’t made a move in thirteen years. It’s highly unlikely—”
“Hardly your decision. I’m not asking for input.” He adjusted his glasses and clasped his hands behind his back. “It would seem the crime syndicate that wiped out her family has finally caught up with her. Let’s see…today is Saturday. I’d say the paper should have the story by midweek.”
“I’d like to watch her a while longer.”
“For what purpose? Get the job done, Elams, before my appearance.” Westingly nodded as if telling an acquaintance goodbye and turned onto the path to the capitol building. After two steps, he glanced up at the memorial again. “I nearly forgot. Strickner. He’s polling high. Find me something.” His gaze shifted, and this time, behind the glasses, the eyes that evoked caring and understanding to his constituents were visible as he smiled. “And I’ll expect a detailed account of your…handling of the Ricci situation.” He strolled away, his gait light and brisk.
As Vince expected.
Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he fisted his hands, rubbing his knuckles against each other. He’d have to do the Ricci girl like a mob hit to satisfy the senator. If he attempted to try what he did on the Blanton woman, he might as well put a gun to his own head. Anyway, Blanton hadn’t worked out, and he’d ended up pleasing Westingly in spite of not exactly following orders. The whistle blower had been a self-righteous do-gooder. He’d offered her a way out—to disappear forever. Using FBI resources, he could’ve given her a new life, but the bitch wouldn’t have it. He’d pushed her a little too hard. Her head hit the table corner, and she landed six foot under in the Nevada desert. The senator had been practically giddy with that result.
Now, the power-hungry madman expected to see the Jianna Ricci murder story splashed across the front page; confirmation that the last person who knew the details of his dirty business practices was dead.
He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, and headed to his car. A few vacation days and he’d be done with it. A breeze picked up. He hunched into his jacket.
Fucking Flagstaff. Why the hell couldn’t the Ricci woman have run off to Florida?