On Best Behavior (C3) (10 page)

She smiled coyly. “It’d be worth it, if you came up and slept with me.”

“On a
sofa?”

“It’d be cramped, but I doubt we’d be doing much sleeping.” She glanced at his sweatpants. “That is if you can ever get it up again.”

He gasped. “That was below the belt!”

She giggled, drawing closer. “Yes, it was.” Reaching down, she slid her hand in his pants and grasped his length. “Is the tequila still bothering you?”

“No, but you are.” His breath hitched.

“So you’ll let me live with Kirsten then?”

He shivered. “I’ll have to call…Agent Bounter…make sure it’s okay.”

She leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest, grinning. “And I’ll make sure Kirsten’s okay with it too.”

“Mmm.” He gave her a measured stare. “I know what you’re doing, Bonnie.” One hand held her shoulder, the other brushed through her hair.

She nodded. “I shouldn’t be manipulating you like this, but it’s fun.”

He chuckled.

“Sounds like we have a lot to discuss at our next session.”

Grant tensed and pulled back. “Uh, I can’t go to therapy anymore.”

“You can’t?”

“It’s not safe. They’re going to be on me now, checking me out. I can’t be seen with you or Ben. I’m sorry. It will only be for a little while.”

“Grant, if you get hurt…”

“I’ll be careful.”

Her mouth set into a determined line. “I’ll help you next time they make you drink.”

“How?”

“We’ll build your tolerance. Tequila.”

His smile was hopeful. “Body shots?”

6. Contempt

“O
PEN
O
N
T
WENTY
!” the guard barked to the control booth. Enzo Barberi stood in the hallway and watched the bars of his cell slide open.

Squinting against the harsh fluorescent lighting, he forced his head up as the guard unlocked his handcuffs. Without a word, Enzo stepped inside the cell.

“Close on twenty!”

He heard the clang of the bars behind him. This cell was brighter than the one in solitary confinement, but it was still a cage. A human cage. A cage he could’ve escaped from if not for the FBI busting up his beautiful plan.

Setting aside his muscle magazine, Jewels Monroe looked up from the bottom bunk. “You don’t look so good, boss.”

“Fuck you.” Enzo went to the filthy sink and splashed some water on his face, then peered up into the cloudy reflective surface passing as a mirror. Hard contours lined his ashen face, and his eyes had sunk into his skull. “You try staying in the hole for two months, see how you look.” He patted his face with a stained gray towel.

Jewels slowly stood, waiting until he looked him in the eye. “Want me to start with old or new business?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’ve been holed away for ages, Jewels. What do
you
think?”

He cleared his throat. “There’s a fresh fish now claiming Gurnee as his address. Just like you predicted after things got busted up.”

“Only one, huh?” Enzo’s jaw clenched. “A fat fish or a tall fish?”

“Tall. And scared shitless.”

“You got it all set up?”

Jewels nodded.

He smiled.
Time to pay, Tank
. Then his smile vanished as he remembered the feel of the soft leather belt folded in his hands, watching Logan tuck a trembling Grant behind him, a defiant set to his mouth. Logan had been one brave boy.

His face hardened.
Time to pay for killing my son.

***

Pungent chlorine assaulted Sophie as she entered the windowless high school pool. She closed her eyes and inhaled a big whiff of the familiar smell. Memories of summer league swim meets tumbled through her mind: cheering parents, warm nacho cheese on crunchy tortilla chips, bouncing behind the starting block as she watched her teammate race the girl in the next lane. She smiled.

“Hey, Sophie!”

She opened her eyes to find Ben waving at her from one of the lanes. “’Bout time you got here! I was starting to think you chickened out.”

Tucking her towel more tightly around her waist, she approached the pool edge. “Sorry, a student needed to talk to me after class.”

“Where’s Uncle Grant?”

She hesitated. “He couldn’t make it. Um…I’ll tell you more later.”

Ben did not look happy.

“I know practice is over already because I saw the girls in the locker room, but where’s your coach? He knows you’re doing this, right?”

He gestured to an office off the pool deck. “He knows. He’s in there.”

“Good.”
The fewer witnesses, the better
.

“He said he could only stay about twenty minutes for our race.”

Her heart fluttered. “But I need to warm up!”

“Better get busy then.” He grinned and swam down to the other end of the pool, where he hopped out and mounted the block to practice his starts.

After she tucked her long hair into a swim cap, she strapped on her goggles and curled her toes over the edge of the pool. She fiddled with the straps of her black racing suit, then took a deep breath and jumped in. She gasped at the cold water. This wasn’t some overheated recreation pool with old ladies doing sidestroke. This was Illinois high school swimming, and she’d better get focused fast.

Five minutes later, her labored breathing after just one length of butterfly alarmed her. The soothing water welcomed her back to her childhood sport, but her endurance and form were no longer a twelve-year-old’s. She wished she could back out of this harebrained duel. Why did she have to be so competitive?

Hoping to practice a start or two before their race, she dragged herself out of the pool and noticed Ben holding back laughter. “What?”

“You’re so toast.”

She perched a hand on her hip. “Nobody’s ever won a race during warm-up.”

He cackled as she stretched her arms in an attempt to shake the jelly feeling from her muscles. She joined her hands behind her back and leaned over, gracefully contorting herself into a deep stretch. When she came back up, he gaped.

“You’re super flexible!”

She gave him a sly smile before diving in.

Just after she surfaced, the hallway door squeaked, and she turned to find her father, Will Taylor, looking anxiously around the pool.

His face fell. “Did I miss the race?”

“Dad! What’re you doing here?”

“My daughter back in the pool? I had to see this for myself.”

She groaned, and Ben gave her a puzzled look. “I told him about our little race when I went home to get my swimsuit.” She turned to her father. “But I never expected you to show up! I’m nervous enough as it is.”

He shrugged out of his thick coat. “Jeez, it’s a sauna in here. Sophie, relax. I’m done being Psycho Swim Dad. I’ll watch Ben swim. I’ve been hearing about his talent.”

Ben tilted his head as he studied her father. He seemed a bit guarded—suddenly unsure and shy.

“So let’s get going!” her father boomed, clapping his hands together. “I’ll be Mr. Starter.”

She rolled her eyes. As Ben took a few jumps on the pool deck, she felt her heart rate increase. Four lengths of butterfly stretched ahead of her like an endless dissertation. “Hey, Ben, how about we race the fifty ’fly instead?”

“Nice try, Sophie. We agreed on a hundred, and that’s what we’ll do.”

“You tell her, Ben.” Her father nodded.

“Great.
So
glad you made it, Dad.”

He ignored her and adopted a stern stance. “Swimmers, step up.”

Ben hopped on the lane-three block, and she climbed up the block for lane four. Pulling in a deep breath, she felt butterflies flitter in her stomach. Win or lose, this would be over in about a minute. She hoped.

“Take your mark…” They crouched in the starting position. “Hup!”

She streamlined off the start, kicking as hard as she could, and sensed she was about even with Ben at the first turn. But it got increasingly ugly after that, and he shot ahead. She barely finished the race.

Panting after she finally surfaced, she draped one arm along the gutter and waited for her double vision to clear. When she was able to speak, she murmured, “Good job, Ben.”

The jerk wasn’t breathing hard at all. “Thanks. You’re just out of shape, you know.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Her father smirked. “Well, I guess you don’t need me to tell you who won.” When she looked up at him, his eyes danced. “A for effort, Soph.”

“
What?
Dad, is that you? I totally died on the last lap!”

“But Ben’s right,” he said. “You’re just a little out of shape. I think it’s incredible you even tried this—it took a lot of gumption to get back in the pool after so many years.”

She blinked up at him. One arm still hung off the gutter.

“And
you
,” her father said, turning to Ben, who now stood waterlogged on deck. “You’re really coming along! Sophie told me you’ve been working on your endurance, and look how strong you finished.”

A blush crept up Ben’s neck. He seemed to bask in the glow of paternal kind words.

Somehow able to pull herself out despite her shaky arms, she walked over and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m impressed, Ben. Even if I’d been in better shape, you still would’ve crushed me.”

He shrugged. “That’s a testable hypothesis.”

She gawked at him. “I see you’re listening well in science class.” She noticed a scruffy blond man coming toward them.

“Who are your guests?” he asked, looking at Ben.

He blushed. “Uh, this is Sophie, and, um, her dad, uh, Mr. Taylor.”

The coach shook her father’s hand and smiled at Sophie. “Bob Brooks. You’re Ben’s aunt, right?”

“I will be, once I marry his uncle this summer.”

“Coach, you’re doing a great job with Ben,” her dad said. “He’s only been swimming a few months, and he just kicked my daughter’s butt.”

“Thanks again, Dad.” She looked at Bob. “In my defense, I haven’t been in a pool since I was twelve.”

Bob’s eyes swept down her body. “Which was what, six or seven years ago?”

Her father’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hardly.” Ben snorted. “She’s, like,
old!”

She glared at him. “I’m only thirty, Benjamin.”

“Why don’t you join us for practice now and then?” Bob asked.

“Yeah!” Ben nodded. “Then we could have a rematch.”

She rubbed her collarbone. “I…I’ll think about it.” She glanced at her father, surprised he hadn’t jumped in to egg her on.

He gave a noncommittal smile. “C’mon. I’ll drive you two home.”

Twenty minutes later, her father pulled his Mercedes to a stop in front of Ashley’s apartment. “Here you go, Ben.”

She gathered her bags at her feet. “Dad, I’m getting out here too. I need to talk to Ben.”

He shook his head. “How will you get home?”

“The same way I got to the pool. A taxi.”

“That sounds expensive.”

She sighed. “Not as expensive as parking downtown.” Before she knew it, he’d pressed two hundreds into her hand. “Dad! I’m working now, you know.”

“Just take it, Sophie.”

Ben’s hand snaked over into the front seat. “Hey, if you’re just handing out money, I’ll take some.”

“Nice try.” She pocketed the cash. “Thanks for the ride, Dad.” She kissed him on the cheek before exiting the car.

Relief washed over her as her father pulled away. She was glad not to risk him wanting to come up to her apartment when he dropped her off. She still hadn’t figured out how to explain her new address at Casa Kirsten.

“Cool.” Ben crunched the frayed ends of his wet hair. “My hair’s frozen.”

A shiver bloomed up her spine as the wind whipped down the sidewalk. “Let’s get inside!”

When he let them in with his key, she noticed Ashley wasn’t there. He cranked the thermostat and turned on a couple of lamps.

“That must be tough not to have your mom home at night.” She followed him over to the sitting area.

“It gets her off my back.”

“Oh. Are things still tense between you?”

He shrugged. “I guess they’re a little better. She still gets on my case, though.”

“What do you usually do for dinner?”

“There’s a frozen pizza in there or something.”

“How about I make you dinner?”

“Aren’t you gonna eat with Uncle Grant?”

“He’s at work too. C’mon, I’ll make you something. Loser has to pay up.”