Avenging Alex (2 page)

“You didn't drag me anywhere. I wasn't asleep. You, your mother, and your little girl are my prime concern right now. Until we get Rivera we don't know who's out there who could be after you, so we need to be vigilant. And that includes you all getting used to calling each other by your new names, even when you think you're alone and no one can hear you.”

“I know,” Alex agreed.

“I just hate being called Janette,” Jamilah complained.

“You're gonna have to,” John insisted. “If I'm gonna do my job effectively, you have to play your parts in all of this. Otherwise, we may as well lead you right to the slaughter. Xavier Rivera is going to do everything in his power to find you and keep you from testifying. I've gotta do everything I can to keep you safe.”

Jamilah interpreted the look that passed between her daughter and the stalwart inspector, and smiled as she poured more vodka into her glass and pretended to yawn. “Well, if you two will excuse me, I believe Miss Janette is finally ready to get back to bed.”

“Good night, ma'am.”

Alex left the kitchen and returned with a bigger, more suitable bath towel from the linen closet in the hall. “Here. Give me your jacket and you take this.”

John peeled off the wet rain slicker, exchanged it for the dry towel, and sat down.

Alex took the raincoat, hung it on a doorknob, and watched him as he rubbed and patted the moisture from his face, arms, and neck. “Are you sure I can't fix you something to drink?”

“I'll take a cup of coffee if it's not too much trouble.”

Alex pulled a filter from the cupboard and filled the coffeepot with water. She felt his eyes watching her from behind and shook her head.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I was just . . . Do you think it's going to be like this forever?”

“What do you mean?”

She turned around, pulling the tie on her robe tighter, and walked over to the table to sit down. She picked up her glass and swirled the remnants of ice with her index finger. “I'm not used to being the one who's afraid all the time. I'm used to having a certain amount of control over my life. I hate that I've allowed myself to be put in a situation for it to be taken away. I can't get over the fact that even when they catch Xavier I still may not be able to go back to the way things were.”

John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with the towel draped around his neck, rubbing hands together. “Look, I know you're scared. It's all right. We've taken every precaution to protect you.”

“Do those precautions include you sticking around after he's caught?”

They looked into each other's eyes. The concentration in his gaze caused her to blink and look away. She tossed back the watered-down remains in her glass and went to the counter. “I think the coffee is ready. Cream and two sugars, right?”

John cleared his throat and sat back in the chair. “Right.”

Alex poured two cups of coffee and returned to the table. Their eyes darted nervously as they gingerly sipped the hot brew. Neither seemed to want to be caught looking at the other.

“I didn't mean to imply anything by what I said,” Alex confessed. “Blame the vodka.”

“I think I've heard that song before,” John quipped.

Their mutual laughter masked the growing tension.

“I guess this is my lame attempt at getting to know a little more about you after all these months. I mean you've got this huge file with every sordid detail of my life since the day I lost my first tooth.”

John put his cup down on the table. “There's not a whole lot you need to know about me.”

“Why not? You're not married, are you?”

He averted his gaze.

Alex's eyes widened with surprise; given the fact that he'd been so present all this time she never thought that he might be. “Oh, wow. You are, aren't you? Damn, I must really be slipping. I used to be able to smell a married man from across the room, even if he didn't wear a ring.”

She looked at his hand as he absently rubbed the finger where a wedding band had been.

“For the record, I'm separated.”

“Separated as in different living arrangements, or separated as in ‘we've got our problems but we still sleep together'?”

“It's complicated.”

“Isn't it always?” Alex stood up and walked into the adjoining living room. “I can't believe I . . . You know what, it's late. You should probably go home. We'll be okay.”

John followed. “I wasn't trying to upset you. I just didn't think my personal life was relevant.”

“You're right,” Alex snapped. “It's not. I just feel really stupid right now.”

“Well, you shouldn't.”

“I should have realized from the moment I—”

“From the moment you what?”

“I've depended on you more than I should have, that's all.”

“You're supposed to depend on me. Your safety is my job.”

“You've made that more than clear.”

John sighed, exasperated. “Are you pissed off at me now?”

“More so at myself.” Alex walked over to the door where John's damp jacket hung, picked it up, and held it out to him. “As usual, Inspector, you've done an excellent job of looking out for us, but like I said, it's late.”

“Alex . . .”

“For the record, the name is Adriane. Remember?”

John lingered for a few seconds longer before leaving the house, and waited in his truck until Alex shut the door.

After locking it, she went around rechecking the windows and doors before returning to the bottle of vodka she'd left on the kitchen table. Curling up at the end of the sofa, she poured another drink, and turned on the television. Her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. She scanned the channels, fighting the sleep she desperately needed, berating herself for feelings she had no right to have. She waited for the demons that would inevitably invade her dreams.

Despite the seemingly relentless rains from the night before it was shaping up to be a pleasantly sunny March morning in Southern California. Alex was awakened by the failed attempts of her mother puttering around in the kitchen trying to be quiet. She pulled herself up off the sofa where she'd finally fallen asleep some time after four in the morning. She looked around the room half dazed and stretched.

“Good mornin', daughter,” Jamilah chirped. “I'm sorry I woke you. I didn't know you'd be sleeping out here on the sofa. What happened with you and the inspector last night?”

Alex swept her flat-ironed hair from her face and bristled at the memory of having made a fool of herself. “I don't want to talk about it.” She lumbered toward the kitchen table. “How much vodka did I have to drink last night?”

“I found the bottle half empty on the counter this morning. You and John must've had a really good chat.”

Alex looked at the hopeful expression in her mother's eyes. “Let's just say John and I came to an understanding.”

“What time did he leave?”

“Don't get your hopes up. He didn't stay much longer after you went to bed. Nothing happened. We talked and the honorable inspector finished his coffee and went home.”

“How much sleep did you manage to get?”

“Two or three hours I guess.”

“Alexandra, why don't you go to your room and go back to bed.”

Alex opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. “I'm fine, Mama.”

“You want some coffee? I made a fresh pot.”

“No, thanks. I'm just going to take something for this headache and get a hot shower. But first I need to check on Cerena.”

“Don't worry about that little darlin'. I've already washed her and changed and fed her.”

After downing a couple of aspirin, Alex made her way to her daughter's bedroom. She found her wide awake and happy to see her. “How's my treasure?” Alex cooed. She picked the girl up and walked back toward the kitchen.

“If you're not going to go back to bed I should fix you something to eat,” Jamilah said.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You have to eat, Omolola. You run out of here five days a week with nothing more than a cereal bar. The least you could do on a beautiful Sunday morning is relax long enough to have a decent breakfast.”

“Mama.”

“Don't argue with me. You think Cerena wants to grow up with a mother who is nothing more than a bag of bones?”

“All right,” Alex acquiesced. “I'll eat.”

“Good. Now, leave the baby with me and by the time you're done with your shower I'll have breakfast on the table.”

The telephone rang just as Alex was about to hand her daughter over to her grandmother. Jamilah reached for the extension on the wall.

“Hello,” she sang. “Oh, good morning, Inspector . . . No, you didn't wake us. We were just getting ready to have breakfast . . . Yes, hold on. She's right here.”

Alex vigorously shook her head and waved the phone away. Jamilah ignored her protest. She shoved the receiver into Alex's hand and took the baby.

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed. “Hello.”

“Hi. I was just calling to make sure you were all right . . . after last night I mean.”

Alex looked over her shoulder to ensure that her mother wasn't listening and drew closer into the corner of the room. “I'm fine. Just a little embarrassed. I shouldn't have asked you anything about your personal life. Like you said it wasn't relevant. I guess the vodka just went to my head. So, you have nothing to worry about.”

There was hesitation on the line.

“John?”

“I . . . um . . . I think we need to talk.”

“I don't think there's anything for us to talk about. At least not as far as that conversation goes.”

“I feel like I really need to get some things out in the open. I'd like a chance to explain.”

“I'm not stupid, John. Your ‘complication' really isn't that difficult to grasp. Why don't we just leave it at that?”

“I still need to talk to you. Can I come by later?”

“No. I have a lot to do today. I've got errands to run and I'm going to be out for a while.”

John sighed. “Can I meet you? We could go to lunch or something?”

“I don't think lunch would be a good idea.”

“Then how about someplace like that coffee shop in the Pavilions on West Foothill?”

Alex took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Why are you pressing this?”

“Because there are some things that I didn't make clear last night.”

Alex didn't respond.

“Are you still there?”

“Fine. I have to go to that pharmacy anyway to pick up Mama's inhalers. I can meet you at noon.”

“I'll see you then.”

Alex turned to hang up the telephone and spied her mother watching her, smiling. “What?”

“You're meeting John?”

“For coffee. That's all.”

“See, I told you he was interested.”

“Mama, he's married.”

“Married?”

“Technically he says he's separated. Either way there's not a chance in hell we're going to get involved.”

“So, why are you meeting him?”

“It's just coffee, all right?”

Alex retreated to her bathroom to shower and change. “It's just coffee” was about as ambiguous as “it's complicated.” Despite what she tried to convince herself of, in her heart she was hoping for more.

 

 

John was already seated when Alex arrived at the coffee shop. She lingered at the door to pull herself together. Catching her reflection in the glass she brushed the loose hair back behind her ears, smoothed down her camel-colored pencil skirt, and ran her index finger delicately along the bottom line of her freshly applied lipstick. The five foot nine inch fugitive may have assumed a new identity, but her impeccable style was still intact, even on a budget.

When she opened the door the air-conditioned breeze inside the shop countered the warm air outside, causing the material of her burgundy silk blouse to flap against her red-boned complexion, sending a shiver down her spine. She could actually hear her heart pounding. It had been a long time since a man stirred her the way John Chase did. His magnetism was just the right blend of strength and raw sexuality that made him all kinds of irresistible. There was something about the way his expressive brown eyes found hers when he spoke. A man like that could be all consuming, she thought, because he was the type who could tell a lie without missing a beat.

“Hi.” He smiled. It was infectious.

“Hi.” She gracefully slid her curvaceous frame into the chair facing him and pulled off her designer sunglasses.

“Wow . . . Do you always dress like this just to run errands?”

Alex blushed. “What's wrong with the way that I'm dressed?”

John smiled and shook his head. “Not a complaint. Just an observation. Can I get you something?”

“Iced caramel macchiato.”

“Comin' right up.”

Alex blew a cleansing breath to allay her anxiety as she watched John's swagger when he went to the counter; blue jeans rarely looked so enticing.

“Here you go. One iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

“So, you just took it upon yourself to add extra caramel?”

“You look like an extra caramel kind of girl.”

She smirked as her eyes came to rest at the opening of his crisp white button-down shirt revealing a flirtatious hint of the hard smoothness underneath.

“Did you get all your errands taken care of?”

“What?”

“I asked you if you were done with your errands.”

“Yes.” She took a sip of the iced beverage and steeled herself. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

John ran his index finger and thumb over his neatly trimmed moustache and goatee. “I was running different scenarios in my head, trying to figure out what I wanted to say. Now that you're actually sitting here, I don't quite know where to start.”

“You don't seem to be the kind of man who has problems saying what's on your mind, Inspector.”

“You'd be surprised.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before John spoke again. “I haven't been completely honest with you. Despite what I said before, you're not just another job to me. I tried not thinking about it. I even considered turning you over to another agent—”

“Turning me over? You make it sound like I was some sort of experiment or class project.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then what exactly do you mean?”

John sighed heavily before continuing. “I pride myself on the ability to keep my personal life and my work separate. In this line of work it's dangerous to blur the lines. I should be able to handle my feelings a lot better than I've been able to do lately. Look, I don't know when it happened or how, but somewhere over these past few months you got to me.”

“I got to you?”

“You know what I'm talking about.”

“John, you've read my file. You know I'm not your garden-variety girl next door.”

“I know what you are, and I know who you are.”

“And that's not enough to keep this line of yours from being blurred?”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

Alex lowered her gaze. She wanted to light up, but opted to remain aloof. Other than the protective aspect of what there was between them there remained the issue of a wife. “Tell me about your separation. That is part of the reason you asked me to meet you here, isn't it?”

“You're not making this easy for me.”

“If you wanted it easy you wouldn't have asked me to come.”

John rubbed his hand over his face and sat back in his chair. “I've been married almost ten years. I had a good marriage, or so I thought. But when you take each other for granted for so long you wake up one day and you come to the realization that you've grown apart. Somewhere the relationship derailed and you don't have a clue how to get back on track, or if you even want to.”

“How long have you been separated?”

“John,” a shrill voice called from the direction of the counter.

They both turned and saw a sallow, blonde woman headed toward their table. Alex noticed John's agitation and rested her elbows on the table and leaned in.

“I thought that was you,” the woman noted, taking Alex in with a glance.

John gallantly or nervously stood up, Alex wasn't sure which.

“Caren, how's it going?”

“It's going well. I'm here spending the day with my mother-in-law.” The woman looked at John as if she'd caught him with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar. “How're Lorraine and the kids? I haven't seen them since we moved.”

“They're fine.”

The woman eyed Alex again.

John fumbled through an introduction. “Caren Wallace, this is Adriane Sullivan.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Sullivan.” The woman nodded as if she knew more than she did.

Annoyed by the implication in her tone, Alex flashed a patronizing smile and nodded back.

Hearing her order being called drew the woman's attention back to the counter. “Well, that's me. I guess I'd better go. Tell Lorraine I'll give her a call. Bill and I need to have you guys over for dinner soon. I can't wait to show you what we've done with the new place.”

John vacillated between a smile and a grimace. He waited until the woman was out of the coffee shop before sitting back down. He glanced at Alex and rubbed his hands over his bald pate and down the sides of his face.

“Lorraine? I take it that's your wife?”

“Yeah,” John responded sheepishly.

“And this Caren woman is probably on the phone to her right now.”

“Probably.”

“So, you were starting to tell me about this train wreck of a marriage and the separation that apparently no one else knows about.”

“Because it's nobody's business. Look, the separation was what my wife wanted.”

“You didn't?”

“Not at first. I thought maybe we had something worth fighting for.”

“And now you don't?”

“We started having problems a long time before we separated.”

“You were assigned to my case last December. Were you still with her then?”

“I stayed through Christmas for the kids. I moved out of the house after the New Year.”

“Ah, yes, the complication. How many children do you have?”

“Two. My oldest is eight, and I have a five-year-old girl.”

Alex picked up her purse and scooted back from the table. John reached out and took her hand. She jerked away. “Don't.”

“Can you please sit down?”

“Why?”

“Because this is not the way I wanted to tell you.”

“You love your wife. You're having problems. Every marriage has problems; that doesn't mean it's over with the two of you. So, what else is there to say?” Alex started to the door and John followed her and grabbed her arm.

“Can we please finish our conversation like two adults?”

“Let's not and say we did.” Alex pulled her arm from John's grasp. She looked at the pleading in his eyes and sighed heavily. “All right, fine.”

They stepped outside the coffee shop and stood under a tree on the sidewalk.