Behind Your Back (27 page)

“You’re thinking awfully hard over there,” Saige says, dragging one finger between my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say. Such a lie.

“I wish you could talk to me. I wish you could trust me.” I don’t trust anyone. Not really.

“It’s not easy for me to trust people. I’ve been burned before,” I say, my voice quiet.

“I can understand that. People can sometimes let you down. And sometimes people aren’t what they seem and you don’t know until it’s too late.” Her voice drops as well and we’re whispering together in the dark.

I’m going to be one of those people. She’ll add me to the list of people who aren’t what they seem. I look down at her in the dark and I wish I could fuck her again so I can have some more peace in my head.

“There’s a deep sadness in you, Quinn. What happened to you?”

“My mother died. She was murdered,” I say. I can’t hold it in anymore. Even if I can’t tell her the whole truth, I can give her bits of it and that will hopefully help the storm raging through my brain.

“Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry.” She strokes my chest and lays her head on my heart. “I’m so sorry for you. How old were you?”

“Almost eighteen.” I’d been old enough that I’d gotten custody of Lizzy, at least, but that didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t matter how old you were, finding your mother’s body in the kitchen would always be the most horrible thing to happen in your life.

“So you were left all alone?” she asks. I have to swallow before I answer.

“Yes.” No matter what, I will never tell her about Lizzy.

She shivers and pulls closer to me.

“I can’t even imagine.” No, she can’t. Her parents might be cold and critical of her, but at least they’re alive. They love her and if push came to shove, they would do anything for her.

“I don’t like to talk about it. Not many people know. It can be a bit of a conversational downer.” I’m trying to make a joke, but it falls flat.

“I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better, but that’s not going to stop me from trying.” Her green eyes glow out at me in the dark and that intensity from earlier is back. Like she’s trying to get me to understand something she can’t say out loud.

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. No one deserves that. There are people who will give you bullshit platitudes and tell you that everything happens for a reason, but that’s a lie. Sometimes there’s no reason when terrible things happen. They just happen and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” For someone who has never had a major tragedy, Saige certainly seems to know what to say.

“Thank you,” I say. They’re the only two words I can come up with.

“You’re welcome, Quinn.” She sighs and closes her eyes. I put my arms around her and finally drift off into sleep.

Twenty-Five

I
don’t wake again until Saige’s alarm goes off at six. She’s still lying on me. Both of us slept heavily and well.

Her arm reaches over me and slaps the clock so it will stop buzzing.

“I have class at eight,” she says, but I know that. I’ve also missed two days of work and my boss is going to have my head if I don’t go in.

She unwinds herself from me and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. I retrieve my discarded clothes from where they were thrown in heaps. Before I can put my shirt over my head, I set the clothes down again and join Saige in the shower. She’s not surprised when I step in, turning to me with a smile.

“I shouldn’t feel as rested as I do. There’s something to be said for sleeping with you, Quinn.” She steps aside so I can get under the spray and then she hands me the bottle of shampoo. It’s cinnamon and sandalwood, so I go ahead and use it. We trade spots under the showerhead and both get clean. I want to fuck her again, but there isn’t time. I need to get back to my place and put my suit on. I need to feed Leo and figure out what I’m going to do about the picture of my mother. I’ve been able to take a few hours to not think about those things and now that time is up.

“I have a question for you,” she says as we’re toweling off and I’m getting dressed again.

“Yes?” I say and she smiles up at me.

“How would you like to come to dinner with my parents again this weekend? I think my mom wants to interrogate you this time since she wasted last time on me.” She’s playing right into my hands. After all the shitty luck I’ve had lately, this is good.

“I would feel fine, as long as I have you to protect me,” I say. She can’t know I’m so eager to be with her parents again.

“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll reward you for a job well done.” She drops her towel and walks naked to her closet where she starts pulling clothes out.

“Do you want me to put some lotion on your tattoo?” I ask. I’d helped her wash it with antibacterial soap in the shower. It’s still red and angry, but in no time it will be peeling.

“Thanks,” she says over her shoulder. I swipe the lotion on her tattoo and she sighs in relief.

“That feels really good.”

I love touching her. I wish I could spend my entire life just touching her and fucking her and being with her. But luck is not on our side. I won’t call it fate. I don’t believe in fate.

I rub my hands together to absorb the remnants of lotion and then get dressed.

“Let me know about this weekend,” I say as she walks me to her door.

“I will.” We share one sweet kiss and then she’s shutting the door and I have to get back to reality.

T
he box with my mother’s picture in it is still in my safe when I get back. In some stupid part of my brain I thought that maybe it was a dream. Or a mirage. Or that my brain had scrambled itself and I was actually going crazy.

No. It’s still there. I run my fingers over the frame and have an idea. I turn the frame over and pop the back off.

Marina, my love.

The handwriting doesn’t look familiar, but it’s clearly masculine. Who wrote this? Who’s had this picture? And why are they stalking me now? My theory on the stalker had always been that it was someone I had taken money from, but now I’m having other ideas.

Maybe the stalker is from further back than that. Maybe they’re trying to tell me something. The messages I’ve gotten have been more playful than threatening. Have I been reading this the wrong way?

There isn’t time to think more about it. I have to go to work. On my way, I text Cash that I’ve got the green light for visiting Beaumont with Saige this weekend and that I’ll need all the surveillance equipment. It’s amazing what you can put a camera and a microphone into these days. I’ll also put a trace on his computer and with any luck we’ll have everything we need for the final confrontation. Right on schedule.

We’ve also started the plans for California. Hardy is busy finding us housing, getting places to store everything and finding a garage to put the cars in. I don’t have to do any work on that front. The guys have it well in hand. It’s a job to move us, but we’ve done it so many times that we have it down to a science. I’m grateful for small mercies.

Saige texts me that night when I’m stuck at work catching up with everything, to tell me her parents want us for an early dinner on Sunday this time.

I race from the office straight to Cash’s place.

“Sorry I’m late. I got stuck at work.” Baz hands me a beer and I crack it open and take a grateful sip. I would love to drown my sorrows in a shot glass again, but I can’t do that now. I need to be on my game. Be sharp. Be on the lookout.

“All systems are go for the surveillance this weekend,” I say. Cash has already filled them in, but I’ve got the exact day and time now.

“Just don’t fuck it up,” Baz says. I get it. I really do.

“I’m not going to fuck it up. We’re almost there and then we’ll be out of town,” I snap. Silence fills the room. Nobody seems to want to argue with me. I take a deep breath and try to get myself under control.

“Let’s go out,” I say. The only time we’re all together is when we’re in Cash’s office. It’s nice here, but it can feel a bit like a cave sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Row asks. “Isn’t that against every single rule we’ve ever made?”

“Yes. But I think we need to live a little more outside of the job.” They all look at me as if I’ve lost my marbles, but then Track grins.

“Hell
yes
. Can I pick the place?” Baz makes a choking noise.

“Fuck no. You’d probably pick some strip club that’s only dudes.” Track looks scandalized, but it’s definitely true.

“Are you so insecure in your sexuality that you can’t go look at a naked man? Baz, I’m shocked.” That causes Baz to put Track in a headlock and they have to tussle it out for a few minutes.

“It’s risky, but if we take separate cars and go somewhere that’s out of the way, we can do it,” Hardy says, ever practical.

“I think it’s worth it,” I say.

It takes an hour to plan the damn thing. There are just a lot of factors to consider. I am beginning to think my impulsive idea isn’t worth the effort, but the guys seem excited. I can’t say why just going out as a group is so special, but we’ve just never done it before. Maybe we need to loosen the reins a bit. Maybe we shouldn’t go after such big marks.

T
he bar we pick is actually Row’s suggestion. He seems to always know some shady people wherever we go. We take three cars, and show up at different times. I’m in the first group to arrive; the place where we pull up is nearly an hour outside of the city and looks like it’s held up with toothpicks and spit. Definitely nothing to write home about, but I bet the beer is cold and the music is loud.

“What a shithole,” I say and Row glares. He heads in first with Hardy and me following. The interior is filled with stale smoky air while Tom Petty bleeds into my eardrums. Besides the bar, there are a few tables, a pool table and a dartboard. This is where men who are short on luck come to drink their sorrows away. It’s perfect.

Row secures us a table in the back, under a flickering light. No one even looks up at us, and I can feel Hardy scanning the room to make sure we’re good and no one is watching us.

“Clear?” I ask. He nods and we sit down. Row brings us two pitchers of ice cold cheap beer and the next two groups finally arrive. Since this was my crazy idea, I volunteer to be a DD on the way back and limit myself to one glass of the stuff. Hardy and Track also volunteer. It’s not terrible, but it’s not great either.

“The only thing that would make this perfect is if there were a few pretty girls,” Baz says, looking around. There are a few women here, but there here with either husbands or boyfriends.

“Don’t pout, it’s unbecoming,” Track says with a wink. Baz just scowls at him and keeps drinking. Back at Cash’s, we made a rule that talk of work was off-limits both for purposes of having a good time and security. You never know who’s listening.

“I keep thinking that someone is going to jump us,” Cash says, looking around warily. I find this comical, because he’s definitely the biggest guy in here.

“Stop acting so squirrely,” Row says, bumping Cash with his shoulder. “Just relax.”

That’s easier said than done, but my one beer, I find my shoulders releasing some of the tension that lives in them all the time.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,” Baz says about the latest female celebrity hot mess.

“You wouldn’t kick anyone out of bed,” Row says, rolling his eyes. “You’d fuck anything with a vagina.”

“I don’t discriminate. There’s a difference,” Baz says. He and Row are well on their way to getting wasted and Cash isn’t far behind them.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you were someone else?” Cash says. For someone who is generally happy, he sometimes gets maudlin when he drinks. This appears to be one of those times.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t know what your life would be like if you were someone else, because you’d be someone else,” Baz says, as if it’s obvious.

“No, I get what you’re saying,” I say. “What kind of person you’d be if you got to live someone else’s life.” I used to wonder that. If my father hadn’t be a criminal and got my mother all wrapped up in his web of lies and blood. If my father had just been a banker, or a car salesman or a professor?

“There’s a lot of debate about nature versus nurture. They’ve studied identical twins that were separated at birth and then reunited and found that a lot of their traits are similar, even if they’ve been raised under completely different circumstances,” Hardy says, bringing the science.

“And who decides that person gets a shitty life? Who’s in charge of that?” We probably should have cut Cash off, but he’s too far gone now. He slumps on the table, taking up most of it and nearly knocking everyone’s glasses down.

“I just wanted to work in IT and get married and have a dog,” he says, so quiet almost no one can hear him. “But then my life had to go to shit.”

We all look at each other.

“Shitty stuff happens to everyone. Some people get more shit than others, but at the end of the day, we’re all speeding toward the same end game. Everyone dies,” Row says and Cash glares at him.

“That’s depressing.”

“The truth is most of the time.”

“Why don’t we play pool?” Track says. He’s our morale booster when Cash is out of commission.

I play Row, Hardy plays Baz and then Track (the best player in our group) plays all of us and wins. Cash is still not doing so hot, so we prop him up against the wall and start pouring water down his throat.

No one seems to notice us, or pay attention, but we’re all still on alert. Some of the patrons of this establishment clearly have criminal records, but then so do we.

Hardy is getting a refill on water for Cash when he bumps shoulders with a guy who clearly wants to start something. I had the feeling something like this would happen, but as the night wore on I thought we’d get lucky. Not so much.

Hardy turns to the guy and says something in a low voice. The guy guffaws and turns to his buddies. Clearly, he’s doing this all for show, but Hardy just steps toward the guy and then suddenly he’s on the ground. It happens so fast it doesn’t even look like Hardy touched him.