Sweet Fortune (12 page)

But she was already racing for the door of the office, which was just barely visible in the shadows. A flash of anger and alarm galvanized Hatch. Jessie was not just impulsive, she clearly lacked even an iota of common sense.

He moved forward to jerk her back, but he did not have to bother halting her mad dash for the dark office. Before he could grab her, she gasped, yelped, and promptly tripped over a man's prone form lying in the middle of the hall.

“
Alex
.”

The man on the floor groaned again and struggled to sit up. “Jessie? Is that you?”

Hatch watched as Jessie crouched beside Alex. Then he frowned as he tried to discern the outlines of whatever was housed in the darkness of the office beyond the doorway. There was no sound from within the room, but the hair on the back of his neck was stirring.

“Dear heaven.” Jessie was fussing over the figure on the floor. “What on earth happened? Alex, you mustn't move until we see how badly you're injured.”

“I'm okay, I think. Just got banged on the head. Didn't completely lose consciousness. Hurts like hell, though. Who did you bring with you?”

“The name's Hatchard.” The sense of uneasiness grew. Restlessly Hatch stepped around Alex's feet and moved into the doorway of the office.

“The light switch is on the right,” Jessie said.

The rush of thudding footsteps, however, came from the left. A body hurtled forward toward the door. Hatch had a fleeting impression of a slight, wiry form covered from head to toe in black. Something metallic glinted in the upraised fist.

“Shit.” It had been years since Hatch had last confronted a man who was wielding a knife. He still remembered the occasion with great clarity. The memorable event had taken place, as such events often do, in the alley behind a tavern that catered to truckers and cowboys.

He'd thought those days of barroom brawls and dirty alley fights were behind him. Hell, he was supposed to be white-collar now, he reminded himself. He had the silk ties and handmade shirts to prove it.

After all the years that had passed since his last brawl, Hatch was vaguely surprised to find that his reactions were automatic. He feinted to the side and lashed out with his foot, catching his assailant on the leg as he went past. The blow was off-center but it was powerful enough to destroy the man's balance.

The knife glinted evilly as the attacker whipped around, struggling to regain his feet.

“Outta my way, you fucking bastard.” The voice was high-pitched and raw with desperation. It was also muffled by the black cloth of a stocking mask. “Get outta my way.
I'll cut your fucking throat for you
.”

“Oh, my God,
Hatch
.” Jessie's horrified shriek filled the darkness.

Hatch followed up on the small advantage he had created by getting his attacker off-balance. He snapped out another kick and slashed at the knife arm with the edge of his hand. The blade fell from numbed gloved fingers and clattered to the floor.

There was a sharp, shrill gasp and another vicious curse. Then the assailant turned and fled through the hall, nearly colliding with Jessie. The running man leapt over Alex's prone form and vanished out the door into the night.

“Hatch, are you all right?”

“I'm okay, Jessie.” A primitive surge of anger flared in Hatch as he realized his quarry was escaping. He ran out into the hall and got as far as the outer door before he realized it was hopeless.

Frustrated, he stood on the front step of the building, restlessly searching the shadows of the dark street. There was no sign of anyone, no sound of running footsteps. Nothing.

The light in Alex's office snapped on behind Hatch. Reluctantly he turned to see that Jessie was on her feet, staring at him with eyes made huge by concern.

“Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes.”

“There's a knife in here.”

“He didn't get a chance to use it. I'm okay, Jessie.”

“You're sure?”

“Dammit, I'm
sure
.” Hatch heard the frustrated fury in his own voice. He made a grab for his self-control and his temper. It was not an easy task. It occurred to him that he was dealing not only with the adrenaline of the short-lived battle but also with a fierce anger that was focused one hundred percent on Jessie.

Apparently the little idiot did not yet realize that if it had not been for Alex lying there on the floor, she would have dashed straight into the office and wound up being the one confronting the bastard with the knife in his hand. Hatch longed to point that out to her in an extremely blunt fashion, but told himself that now was not the time.

“What about you, Alex?” he said to the injured man.

“I'm okay too. I think. Like I said, I didn't completely lose consciousness. I've just been dazed for the past few minutes.”

“I assume you're the one who called Jessie?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Alex found a pair of hornrimmed glasses beside his leg and put them on. They sat somewhat crookedly on his nose. Then he gingerly touched his head. “Didn't realize anyone was still around or I would have called the cops first. I wasn't even sure there had been a break-in. Nothing seemed disturbed upstairs. Thought maybe Jessie had just left the door unlocked.” He gave Hatch a questioning look. “Guess we'd better call the police now, though, huh?”

“Yes,” said Hatch. “I think that would be a very logical next step. Although I doubt there's much they'll be able to do.”

Jessie swung around, clearly startled. “What do you mean? There's been a break-in and an act of violence.”

Hatch gave her a pitying glance. “Jessie, get real. It happens all the time in the big city.”

She frowned. “Yes, well, it's never happened to me.”

“You just got lucky. Where's the phone?”

“Over on the desk near Alex's computer.” She tipped her head slightly to the side. “Hatch, are you angry?”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

Three hours later Hatch opened Jessie's refrigerator door and rummaged around inside until he found the skim milk. He closed the door and started opening cupboards until he located a box of cereal. Then he started searching for bowls and spoons.

He was putting breakfast together on his own because Jessie, who had recently emerged from the shower wearing a pair of snug-fitting black leggings and a voluminous orange sweater that fell below her hips, was not much help at the moment. She was still chattering away excitedly about the break-in. It was obvious she was viewing the whole thing as a grand adventure.

Hatch realized he was still seething. Every time he thought about what had nearly happened earlier, his gut went cold. As furious as he was, he was also vividly aware of the fact that he would have liked nothing better in that moment than to haul Jessie over to the couch and make concentrated, determined love to her.

He had wanted Jessie for some time, but never so intensely as he wanted her right now. It was the aftermath of the fight, he told himself. Rampaging hormones or something.

But deep down he knew it was because some primitive part of him actually thought that if he claimed her physically he might be able to control her in other ways. Control her so that next time she would follow orders in a crisis. Control her so that he could keep her safe.

Follow orders? Jessie Benedict? Who was he kidding
?

She was sitting at the counter, blithely unaware of his precarious mood. She pushed a thick curve of witchy black hair back behind one ear and her jeweled eyes gleamed with excitement. “I suppose the cops were right,” she allowed. “The guy broke into the building and started going through the upstairs offices first. When he didn't find anything valuable, he went back downstairs and discovered Alex's computer equipment.” Jessie drummed her fingers on the countertop. “But I don't like it.”

“Nobody
liked
it, Jessie.”

“I mean, something doesn't feel right about it. I think I'll go visit Mrs. Valentine today and see what she thinks. She might have some insights into this thing.”

“Jessie,” Hatch said wearily, “you're not going to try to tie this break-in to your DEL case, or something equally stupid, are you?”

“Why not? I don't care what the cops said. The whole thing is very suspicious. The guy did go through the offices of Valentine Consultations first.”

“The cops also said guys like that tend to go through a place in a methodical fashion. Makes sense to start upstairs and work down. Use some logic here, instead of drama, Jessie. What could he have been searching for in Valentine Consultations? You haven't discovered anything incriminating about DEL yet, and you're not likely to do so. The DEL crowd probably knows that better than anybody.”

“Maybe.”

He considered the stubborn, mutinous set of her mouth out of the corner of his eye as he poured milk over the cereal. “You're trying to overdramatize your Big Case, Jessie. Forget it. Waste of time.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.” He sat down across from her and reached for the coffeepot. “Eat your breakfast like a good girl and then you can send me off to the office with a wifely little kiss.”

Jessie scowled ferociously. “Don't get any ideas just because I let you spend the night on my couch.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Hatch dug into his cereal. He was actually getting a lot of ideas, but he figured he could wait to tell her about them.

Negotiating with Jessie was a tricky business, and he had no intention of giving away too much information in advance. He waited for her to lecture him further, but when she spoke again, she surprised him with her question.

“What did you do to that jerk in Alex's office, Hatch?”

“Took out my frustrations on him.”

“I mean, seriously, what did you use on him? Karate or something?”

“Nothing that fancy. Just some old-fashioned alley-fighting techniques.”

“Where did you learn them?”

“In an old-fashioned alley. Look, could we change the subject? I had what is frequently referred to as a misspent youth. I'd prefer to forget it.”

“Whatever you say. Still, I'm glad it was you who went into that office instead of me.”

“Which brings up an interesting point,” Hatch said, deciding to seize the opportunity. “The only reason you didn't go charging into that office first was that you conveniently happened to stumble over Alex. I warned you not to rush blindly into that place.”

“We all know I don't take orders well, Hatch. Want some more coffee?”

“Quit trying to change the subject. You're walking on thin ice, lady. I am not in a good mood this morning.”

“Oh, my. Are you going to yell at me?” She fixed him with an expression of great interest, as if waiting for a show to begin.

“I've resisted this long, I think I can manage to hold back what would seem to be a very natural urge under the circumstances. But I wouldn't advise you to push me.”

“Veiled threats. How exciting. I've never seen you quite like this, Hatch. It's a whole new you. I'll bet you're only holding back because you don't want to lose any of the territory you think you gained last night by conveniently falling asleep on my couch.”

“Is that right?”

“I know exactly how your mind works, Hatch. You've weighed the pros and cons of losing your temper with me and decided that it's in your own best interests not to yell at this rather delicate stage of the game.”

“You think you know me very well, don't you?”

“Well enough to know how you think.” She took a swallow of coffee and wrinkled her nose. “But I'll admit I didn't realize you'd make coffee like this. It tastes like pure, refried, undiluted grounds.” She tried another tentative sip. “With perhaps just a hint of old tires thrown in for body.”

“I grew up on a cattle ranch. Nobody drinks weak coffee on a ranch.”

A wary spark of interest lit her eyes. “You grew up on a ranch? Where was it?”

“Oregon.”

“Do your folks still live there?”

“No.” He wished he had kept his mouth shut, but one look at her expression told him it was too late to close the subject. She was curious. A curious Jessie Benedict was a dangerous Jessie Benedict.

On the other hand, it was gratifying to have her exhibit some real interest in him.

“Where are your parents living now?”

Hatch sighed. “When I was five my mother decided she couldn't take ranch life any longer. Or maybe it was my old man she couldn't take. Whatever, she filed for divorce and left. Went back East and married some guy who worked for an insurance firm.”

Jessie's brows came together in a swift frown. “What about you?”

Hatch shrugged. “I stayed on the ranch with Dad until I was sixteen and then I left.”

“You went off to college early?”

“No. I just left home early. Dad and I were not what you'd call a real father-and-son team. We didn't get along.” Hatch shoved aside the memories of the weak, whining, bitterly angry man who had raised him. “Not that I was a model son, you understand. I was in trouble from the time I was nine years old. At any rate, when I left home, I lied about my age and found work on a ranch in California. Dad died in a car accident two years later.”

“Then what happened?” She was riveted now.

“I went back to Oregon, sold the ranch, and used the money to pay off the bank. The place was buried in debt. My father was not much of a businessman. Hell, he wasn't much of anything. After he died I told myself I was going to prove him wrong.”

“About what?”

Hatch studied his thick, dark coffee. “He had a habit of telling me I was never going to amount to anything.”

“Well, he was certainly wrong about that, wasn't he?” Jessie's eyes flickered briefly to the gold-and-steel watch on his left wrist.

Hatch smiled grimly. “I guess you could say that everything I am today I owe to my old man.”

“What about your mother? Is she still alive?

“Yes.”

Jessie chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Ever see her?”

“Not much.” Hatch swallowed another bite of cereal. “I call her every Christmas.”

“That's not very often, Hatch.”

Her reproachful eyes refueled his irritation. “For God's sake, Jessie, let the subject drop, will you? It's none of your business, but the fact is, she's no more interested in hearing from me than I am in hearing from her. She built a whole new life for herself back East. She's got two more sons, both lawyers, and a man who makes her a lot happier than Dad ever did.”