G-Men: The Series (34 page)

“Becky, I’m not following you. What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Never mind, Sam. Just be ready when you wake up one morning to the sound of federal agents at your door.”

“That’s so not funny, Becky. I haven’t heard a damn thing in days from Donovan. Did you happen to see him there during the footage?”

“No, and I was looking for him, too. Relax though, whatever Jack has been doing doesn’t implicate you. If anything, you have assisted the authorities.”

“You know that and I know that, but who’s to say they’ll believe I had no knowledge of it all along?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, hon. I was just kidding about the knock on the door. I’m sure all the evidence resides at Banion.”

That didn’t make me feel a whole lot better when I considered that it was my father’s name on that company and the shame that might be brought to it because of Jack. I was really feeling depressed.

I showered and dressed for the day after I got off of the phone with Becky. I managed to eat some fruit and granola, and then set about keeping busy with household chores.

My mother called late in the afternoon to see how I was feeling. I told her about my recent visit to the doctor, leaving out the part about Slate barging in. I told her that everything was going well and the doctor was pleased.

“That’s good to know, Samantha,” she said. “Your father and I wondered if you wanted to go out for dinner tomorrow for your birthday.”

“Does Jack have to go?”

“That’s entirely up to you, sweetheart.”

“Can I call you tomorrow to let you know, Mom?

“That’ll be fine, Samantha.”

She asked if I’d been watching the local news at all today. I told her that I had. She wanted to talk about the big bust at the biker club. She claimed she’d heard from several ladies at ‘the club’ that more arrests were to be made that included several prominent businessmen in the Indianapolis area.

I wanted so much to warn her about the impending disaster, but I knew that I couldn’t. It tore me up inside.

“Listen, Mom, I have to go put the clothes from the washer into the dryer. I’ll call you tomorrow about dinner, okay?”

“Okay, Samantha. Talk to you then.”

I finished up the laundry and got dinner started. Lindsey got home at her normal time. She told me that Jack had said he was stopping at the gym so not to hold dinner for him. She rolled her eyes when she gave me the information.

Lindsey and I sat down to dinner alone. She didn’t seem to be upset about anything, so maybe things were slowly falling into place for her with the understanding that her parents would be splitting sometime in the near future. She told me that she was going to hang out with Julie later in the evening. They were going to the mall and then to the club for a late swim. Frankly, I was glad that she seemed to be getting back into the swing of things.

She cleaned up the kitchen for me before going upstairs to shower and get ready for the evening. It was just past 7:30 p.m. I’d just settled down in the family room, turning the television on when the landline rang. It was Jack.

“Sammie,” he said, “I’m on my way to the airport to catch a flight to Charlotte. Some things have come up and it’s urgent I get there as soon as possible for damage control.”

“What happened, Jack?”

“The general contractor over the project was skimping on building materials; wiring, piping, things like that. The building inspector caught it early, but all construction has halted until we can get it sorted out and up to code. I may be there for a week or more.”

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be here for your birthday, Sammie. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”

“Yes, there is. Please don’t call me ‘Sammie’ anymore. Call me Samantha. Got it?”

There was a silent pause as Jack tried to figure out where the hell I was coming from on this.

“Sure thing,” he replied. “I’ll call you in a couple of days when I know more.”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

^{chapter 43}

I was sleeping peacefully beneath my sheets, dreaming of Slate. I felt his lips on mine as I welcomed his mouth with my own. I could smell his masculine scent. It was a mixture of soap and aftershave that was his alone.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered against my lips, his tongue tracing my lower one.

My eyes flew open. I wasn’t dreaming. He was right here beside me in bed. His warm, muscular body was molded up against mine. I closed my eyes, moaning with happiness and pleasure. He was kissing my lips, the tip of my nose, my eyelids.

“You’re really here,” I said, smiling up at him. His hands were now all over me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

“Where you going?” he asked, pulling me back against him.

“Slate, please. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

He pulled himself up so that he was sitting beside me. I had his full attention.

“What is it, babe?”

“I saw you on the television yesterday morning. You were in a dark blue ‘FBI’ shirt, ball cap on backwards, leading ‘Hammer’ to the paddy wagon.”

He nodded, still watching me.

“So, didn’t that blow your cover?”

“It’s kind of a moot point at the moment with the bikers.”

“But what about Jack? What if Jack has seen that clip and recognized you?”

“Sammie, it was a brief clip. I doubt very much that he’d have recognized me with the FBI garb and ball cap pulled down on my forehead.”

“I recognized you, Slate. If I did, then he could have, too.”

“Babe, do you have reason to think that he did?”

“Nothing concrete, it’s just a feeling. He told Lindsey to tell me he was going to work late last evening and not to hold dinner. Then he called a little after seven and said he had to take a late flight out immediately to Charlotte; something about the construction being stopped on the distribution center that’s underway for Banion. He made it sound like he could be gone for a week or more.”

“Shit,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his jean pocket and hitting a speed dial number.

“Donovan, who’s watching Dennison?”

There was a momentary pause. Slate rubbed his thumb back and forth on his forehead waiting for an answer.

“What’s that? His car is still there in the parking garage?” He looked over at me, covering the mic on his phone.

“Have them check to see if Susan Reynard’s car is still there. She drives a new, black, Ford Mustang convertible,” I instructed.

Slate relayed the instruction to Donovan who relayed it to whomever was on the other end of another phone or radio.

I could tell Slate was on edge. I was certain that Jack had eluded them and slithered out by way of Susan’s car. He probably had crouched down in the back seat, like the coward he was.

“What’s that? God damn it,” he snarled. “You tell Agent Hatfield I want to see him at field headquarters at zero eight hundred hours. Send Daugherty to the airport to see what he can find out. I’m sure it’s too fucking late at this point.”

Slate shut his phone off. At that moment, I felt fortunate that I wasn’t Agent Hatfield.

He turned back to me, raking his hand through his thick, dark hair.

“Call Jack right now on his cell phone,” he ordered, none too gently.

I jumped to grab the landline phone and pushed the speed dial to Jack’s number. A recording came on stating that the cell phone number was no longer in service. I held the phone up so that Slate could hear it.

“Fuck,” he said. “Is there anything else you can think of to tell me?”

“Yes, there is. You need to know right now that I’m afraid. You don’t tell me shit because of blowing your cover, then I fucking see it on the local news. I’m clueless as to how deeply Jack is involved in this whole mess. Am I going to have to find that out on the local news as well? Am I going to be one of those people that wake up one morning to the sound of federal agents at my door?”

“I actually prefer sliding in through the unlocked terrace doors to your bedroom, in case you haven’t noticed, babe.”

“It’s not funny, Slate. This is my life we’re talking about here. This involves Lindsey’s life, too. You’re not telling me shit about anything.”

I was pissed now and making no bones about it. Tears of frustration were building up. I felt like kicking and screaming. I might have done so, except for the fact that I’d heard Lindsey come home a little after midnight and I didn’t want to risk waking her.

“Hey, come here,” he said gently, pulling me up into his lap. He gently stroked my hair with his hand. “It’s because I can’t, baby. Do you trust me?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You have a choice, Sammie. Everyone has a choice. Now do you trust me?”

“I guess I do. I’m just not sure that you trust or believe me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, Slate, you’ve never once told me that I have nothing to worry about, that I’m not under suspicion, that Jack hasn’t somehow involved me in this by the mere fact that we are married and have joint accounts. You’ve never once assured me that my baby won’t be born inside some woman’s prison,” I sobbed to him, burying my face into my arms that were wrapped around my knees.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess I didn’t think how this might be affecting you. I’ve never doubted your innocence, okay? This is my investigation. I’m the lead on this and trust me, I’ve seen my share of evidence and, in no way does it implicate you, or your father’s company as an entity. I can tell you that much.”

“What about the biker that’s still at large. Can you tell me who it is?”

“It’s Slash,” he replied, kissing my face. “He can’t get to you, don’t worry.”

“Did Slash have any direct dealings with Jack?”

“No,” he replied. “It was all indirectly done through an intermediary in Fort Wayne, okay?”

I nodded, but I was worried once again.

“Is Slash after you?”

“Probably. I’m not worried, though. I don’t want you to be worried that he’s followed me either, understand? I’d never put you at risk. Besides, Slash is more worried about saving his own hide at this point than retribution.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“So, are we good then?”

I raised my face up to his and we kissed.

“Maybe,” I said, starting to feel better.

“Hmm - only maybe?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, his eyes full of amusement. “How can I change that maybe into a definitely?”

“Hmm, well maybe my G-man can make nice to my G-spot,” I said, squirming away from him on the bed. I pulled my nightgown up and over my head. Slate was naked within seconds. We dove underneath the sheets together.

“I think that can be arranged for the birthday girl,” he whispered, as his hands expertly started their exploration.

When I awoke, Slate was gone. I pulled the sheet up under my chin, and bit my lower lip, like I always did when I worried about something.

We had made love several times throughout the night. I didn’t give a damn what he said, it wasn’t fucking this time, it was love. I worried that somehow this piece of happiness I’d found would disappear as suddenly as it had arrived. I really did love him.

I got up to use the bathroom. I had to pee more than usual, which was to be expected as my pregnancy progressed. I was officially thirty-six years old, I thought, as I glanced in the mirror to see what that looked like.

I didn’t look any different than I had the day before when I was still thirty five - with one exception: I now had a large hickey over my left boob.

I had to smile as I thought about my Slate. His hickeys were the equivalent of a male dog marking his territory. It really was kind of cute.

I showered and dressed. As I pulled the bracelet that Slate had given me out of the jewelry box where I stored it, I found something new in there. It was wrapped in tissue paper. I opened it carefully and found a pair of beautiful diamond stud earrings. There was a note folded up beneath it. I opened it and read:

‘Happy Birthday, Diamond Girl. - Love, S.’

^{chapter 44}

When Lindsey got up, I was already in the kitchen making breakfast.