Hmm.
His fingers were having an effect. As I’d attacked him that morning, I thought it was his turn. I didn’t know how to communicate this without making it my turn.
“Vance?”
“Yeah.”
“What’re we doing?”
“Lyin’ in bed.”
“I know but… why?”
“Why not?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
Wait, I did. “I’m not good at lying around.”
“Princess, you need to learn to be still.”
I thought about that, thinking maybe he was right. I was rarely still. I was usually on the go, always had been my whole life. Hard to save the world lying in bed and doing nothing.
“Is this a Native American thing?” I asked.
“What?” There seemed a hint of laughter in his voice and I got up on my elbow and looked at him. I was right, definitely laughter, in fact a full blown grin. “What’s funny?” I asked.
“You.”
“How am I funny? I don’t know anyone who sits around, doing nothing and being still.”
“Lot of people do it. Most the time they fuck it up with their eyes glued to a television set, filling their mind with garbage.”
I had to admit this was true. “Is that why you think I’m funny? Because I can’t be still?”
“I think you’re funny because you asked me if it was a Native American thing.”
“Why’s that funny?”
“The only thing I know about my culture is what I’ve read in books. I was off the rez by the time I was twelve. The two years before that I was bounced around amongst people with good hearts who took me in but not enough patience to deal with my shit. Before that all I knew was my Dad gettin’ shitfaced drunk every fuckin’ night of his life, most of those beatin’ my Mom bloody while my brother and I watched.”
Every muscle, bone and piece of tissue in my body froze including my lungs and heart. Then I snapped out of it, leaned over him, reached high and turned out the light.
“Jules?”
I settled in beside him and put my arm around his waist and pulled him to his side, facing me.
“Jules,” he repeated.
I looked up at him, my arm stayed around his waist and I pressed my front to his.
Then I whispered, “I can’t do it, Vance. You have to give me time. I need the moonlight.” I took a deep breath then said, “But before you get upset, you have to know that I know it counts, this counts more than any of it.”
A change came about him. I could barely see it but I could definitely feel it.
“Jesus, Jules,” he muttered but he wasn’t disappointed in me. It was something else, something bigger, something that made his voice sound kind of husky.
It was something good.
I pushed deeper into him. “If I had a superpower,” I whispered, “I’d go back in time. I’d talk your Dad to an AA meeting. I’d get you back your family.”
“Quiet Jules.”
“I’d fix your Mom so she was only beautiful and not broken –”
“Quiet.”
“And you’d know all about your culture because you should.”
He rolled into me, then on top of me. “If you aren’t quiet, I’ll make you quiet.”
“You should at least find your brother, Vance.”
His hands came to either side of my face.
“I’ll help you,” I offered.
He kissed me and he didn’t stop there. He did a lot of things that made me stay quiet.
Not exactly quiet, as such, but the sounds I was making didn’t have anything to do with a recognized language.
So I guess I figured out how to get Vance to make a move and take his turn.
After we were done, he pulled a soft knit, chenille blanket out of the cubbyhole over the hall ceiling and arranged it on top of us.
He held me front-to-front, my face in his throat.
After a few minutes I said, “I want you to tell me more.”
He was silent.
“Please. I know it’s hard but –” I went on.
“Later.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
His arms, already around me, tightened when I gave in.
I lay there, still, and thinking it was not that hard.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sometime Next Week
The knock came and although it didn’t take two people to open a door, Vance walked me to it his arm curled around my neck in a way that even I, with my significant lack of experience, knew was somewhat excessively proprietary. I had no choice but to wrap my arm around his waist or I would look awkward and be uncomfortable. Surprisingly the minute I did this I was comfortable, very comfortable.
This was not a bad thing just that I thought it was kind of in-your-face for Luke, considering.
Vance opened the door and stepped us both back, keeping me at his side while Luke came into the house. Luke looked at me then at Vance, his face blank. I held my breath.
“We good?” Vance asked.
Luke’s lips twitched. “Yeah,” he replied.
I blinked. Was that it?
Vance’s arm around my neck tightened and he curled me into his body so we were full frontal. When I looked up at him, he was grinning.
Well, I guessed that was it.
Guys were so weird.
Vance started talking. “Jules, be smart, watch Luke and do what he says. I don’t wanna have to come back down the mountain to sit in an ER waiting room.”
“Okay,” I said.
“No drug dealers tonight. Just business. Got me?” Vance went on.
Hmm.
Macho-speak.
I decided against answering and instead I just frowned.
“Got me?” he repeated.
Okay, so I had to answer and I did so snottily. “Are you aiming for our make-up to be the shortest in history or what?”
Vance grinned again, it was his turn not to answer and he did it better than me.
“I kid you not, Crowe, I’m working the King Sooper’s stores tomorrow. I’m gonna find me a checkout boy. Safe job, good insurance and he probably won’t tell me what to do.”
At my threat Vance kissed my forehead. Then he let me go.
I took this to mean he didn’t feel the King Sooper’s checkout boys were much competition. He was probably right.
“Bye Boo,” I called.
“Meow,” Boo called back from somewhere in the house, likely somewhere where he was getting into trouble.
“Be good,” I called in warning just in case he was getting into trouble.
“Meow!” Boo called back again, sounding harassed.
I turned to Luke. “I’m ready now.”
Luke had a full-on smile going. They were rare and they were effective. Some woman was going to be super lucky one day. I just hoped that Luke was just as lucky.
We started to move, Vance grabbed my hand, gave it a tug and I turned back to him. His head bent and he touched his lips to mine.
“Be careful,” he murmured, his face close, his eyes soft and warm.
My breath caught.
I nodded and whispered, “I will.”
We left and I swung into the passenger side of the Explorer.
“King Sooper’s checkout boys?” Luke asked after I’d buckled in.
“My dream men,” I replied.
“Babe.” He started up the SUV and we headed out. “At least you aren’t wearing purple pants tonight,” he noted.
“I didn’t want to embarrass the team.”
“I’m thinkin’ that’d be impossible.”
Wow.
That was huge.
Even with that hugeness uttered, I decided to take a page out of Luke’s book and be quiet.
* * * * *
It wasn’t a silent night for Luke.
He talked.
He told me Nightingale Investigations had a vari
ed clientele. The bulk of which was corporate investigations, background checks on employees, looking into fraud, that kind of thing. This was done in-office, usually by their computer hacker, a guy named Brody, as well as through surveillance. They did some domestic investigations, cheating husbands, cheating wives, pilfering money from joint bank accounts. They used to do security but now only watched Fortnum’s and recently my place. They took on some government contracts, federal, state and local. They also took on specialized cases. These Luke didn’t share much about but explained they were worked almost exclusively by what I was realizing were the “Top Four”: Lee, Luke, Mace and Vance. The team also did a lot of skip tracing and this they did nationally if the skip seriously skipped. Mostly it was done in a six or seven state area which Luke considered “local”.
Vance, Luke confirmed, was their top tracker. He also did all their wire work. Further, he was the guy they chose to do most reconnaissance because he was ultra-quiet, something he’d learned during his past as a felon.
Lee was ex-special operations force, Army Night Stalkers. Monty was an ex-Navy SEAL. Lee’s specialty was everything. Monty’s specialty was planning operations (these operations Luke also didn’t go into detail about).
Matt and Bobby, two more of Lee’s team, were local boys who should have been cops but preferred an extra challenge. They spent a lot of time pulling in skips, taking photos during dangerous liaisons, doing stakeouts, providing security (as in bodyguards) when a client needed it and they acted as added manpower. “Foot soldiers” was how Luke described them.
“Good ones,” he said.
Ike had been a cop until something ugly went down. That something ugly wasn’t shared by Luke either. He was tracker number two on the team and was often out-of-town, the same as Vance.
Jack, another guy I hadn’t met, was muscle.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Except for taking most night shifts in the surveillance room, yeah.”
Mace sounded interesting mainly from what Luke didn’t say. Apparently he used to be a world-class surfer. He was half-Native Hawaiian and he came to Colorado to take up snowboarding, something at which he also excelled. Mace, like Lee and Vance, was good at everything he did, he had no specialty, they were all his specialties (except wirework which Luke explained only Lee, Monty and Vance knew how to do). This was due to a life as an athlete, some of that professional, he knew how to use his body and his instincts and reflexes were sharp.
“How did he go from a professional surfer/snowboarder to a private investigator/bounty hunter? That seems a strange career move.”
I thought of surfers and boarders as Zen masters, riding the waves and the snow, one with nature, not out cracking heads and looking pissed off all the time.
“Personal reasons,” Luke answered.
“What personal reasons?” I asked.
Luke didn’t answer.
I gave up mainly because I knew I’d get nowhere as well as the fact that it was none of my business.
“And you?” I went on.
“Me?”
“Why are you in the game?”
He turned to look at me with a half-smile on his lips. “Shits and grins.”
His eyes went back to the road.
He was holding back, how I knew this I didn’t know, I just knew it.
“Bullshit,” I muttered.
The air in the SUV changed rather dramatically and my body automatically tensed at the feel of it.
Then Luke spoke and it wasn’t with his usual somewhat-teasing, bordering-on-affectionate tone. “Babe, there comes a time when you’re sharing’ my bed and you feel free to turn your attitude on me with your body pressed against mine then you’ll be in the position to know.”
Well then, there you go.
I suspected Luke was “good” with the situation just as long as I didn’t push it.
Good to know.
I decided to change the subject. “What’s on tonight?”
“Search. Got a client who wants dirt on his wife before he asks for a divorce.”
“Is she cheating on him?”
“He’s the one who found a replacement. Lookin’ for a way to make the divorce payout more comfortable.”
Um.
No.
“This guy sounds like a jerk,” I said.
“He is a jerk,” Luke replied.
Luke pulled over and parked in a well-lit street in a neighborhood filled with comfortable houses of the nearly very rich. He made to exit the vehicle.
“Wait,” I called.
He turned to me and raised his brows.
“We can’t do this,” I told him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“It’s not right.”
Luke twisted his body fully to face me. “We don’t make judgments. We send invoices.”
I could see right away where there might be a problem with my being on the team. I didn’t make judgments but I sure as hell had a moral code.
I decided not to debate this point with Luke mainly because I didn’t figure I’d change his mind in the few minutes I had.
I tried a different tactic. “I don’t see how this is going to help me be more of a nuisance to drug dealers.”
“This isn’t training, babe, this is a ride-along. You go where I go. You don’t like it, I’ll take you home and you can have a bubble bath.”
In truth a bubble bath sounded good. However I figured if I fucked up this chance there wouldn’t be another one. I was too curious about what this team of badasses did for a living, considering I was “with” one of them (I didn’t know how to describe my relationship with Vance except that calling him my “boyfriend” sounded pretty stupid… we were exclusive, Vance made that clear, but how to translate that into a descriptive modifier was unclear). Also I had the impression that the team liked me, respected me. I had this impression because somewhat easily they’d accepted me. If I went home and had a bubble bath I knew that would disintegrate faster than the bubbles.
“Let’s do this,” I muttered, getting out my side.
As he did last night, Luke walked straight up to the house like he owned the place. He opened the door with a key.
“You have a key?” I whispered, not about to make the same mistake as I’d made last night by being loud and calling attention to us.
He looked at me. “Client gave it to us.”
Oh. Right. That made sense.
Luke entered and didn’t turn on any lights. He went directly to a massive kitchen like he’d taken that route on numerous occasions. I followed.
He went straight to a small office off the kitchen that even in the dark I could see it was decorated by a woman. Luke pulled on a pair of plastic gloves then took a small flashlight out of his belt and started to rifle through the desk.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Anything,” Luke answered.
I stood there watching.
The flashlight often slid along the walls and I saw one of those bulletin boards with the criss-cross ribbons on it, business cards, receipts, notes, letters and photos were shoved into the ribbons. The photos were different shots of the same four people, a woman, a man and two young boys.
“They have children,” I hissed at Luke.
Luke didn’t answer, he kept searching.
I got more uncomfortable. I wanted to pretend it didn’t matter but it went against the grain, so deeply against the grain that the grain was feeling raw.
“Luke.”
He straightened and turned to me. “Not our problem.”
“But –”
“Babe.” His voice was a warning. I was trying his patience.
I snapped my mouth shut and crossed my arms on my chest.
I decided a bubble bath was sounding good. In fact, after we were done here, I was going to ask Luke to take me home. Then I was going to put my bath oil in my bag for the cabin and take my bath there when, after I was done, I could cozy up to Vance.
r /> Fuck this shit.
So I would lose my unofficial place on the team.
Whatever.
Luke lost interest in the office and went upstairs. He was nearly as silent as Vance.
I followed trying hard not to stomp and throw a tantrum although I thought the situation warranted it.
We went to the bedroom and Luke rifled some more – drawers, medicine cabinet in the bathroom, nightstand. Then he got on his side on the floor and swung the light underneath the bed then he dropped to his back and shoved in his shoulder.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked, arms still crossed on my chest, hip hitched, one leg out. My stance said “attitude” but I had to admit I was curious.
Luke came out with a box. He’d opened it under the bed. He got to his feet, put the little flashlight between his teeth and with the box open in one hand, he rifled through it with the other.
I walked forward and looked then stared with my mouth open.
It was a little pharmaceutical cabinet, not just pills (lots of pills), but vials filled with white powder, three of them, two very full, one half-empty, a mirror, a razor blade and a rolled up bill.
“Bitch is a cokehead,” Luke remarked after he’d taken the flashlight from his teeth.
“It could be his,” I suggested.
“He’s payin’ us to search his house. You think he’d leave his shit lyin’ around?”
Damn.
That made sense.
“Maybe he planted it,” I tried again.
“Doubtful. It isn’t hers, he’ll have a problem proving it if she fights it. Considering what’s at stake, she will. Easy enough to find out if she’s smart enough to ask for it to be printed.”
Damn again!
I glared at him.
Luke ignored my glare, dropped down and replaced the box.
“Don’t you need to photograph that or something?” I asked when he was back on his feet and back to searching.
“Call goes out to the husband tonight. They’re at a show. He comes home, knows right where to find it, big scene. He asks for the divorce. He’s got the dirt to nail her. She has no idea he has a woman on the side. She caves because she’s fucked.”
His scenario left a bad taste in my mouth. This wasn’t about two people, it was about four.