Yield (12 page)

Father had died a dirty death. Photographs had been leaked onto the internet, if not the Sydney newspapers. In this day of the ever-present camera phone, someone had taken pictures. It’d been the back end of Papua New Guinea, the Highlands where people still had small tribal wars, and someone had a camera and access to the web. The ignominy of your last legacy to your child being found dead at a slave house where women were systematically abused, lying face down with your genitals out, was not what he’d have planned. Shit happens.

“Coming?” Glass yelled back. A neighborhood dog began barking.

Today we were conferencing at the beach, I’d been informed.

“Sure!” I smiled and trotted after him.

Being a pseudo-detective was having strange benefits. I’d never healed from the death of my fiancé in Europe. I’d not expected to. The scars went so deep. Here, now, I felt the hint of promise on the horizon. If Glass did end up being only a flash-in-the-pan boyfriend, I think he’d still done me more good than any of the psychiatrists or the whole ton of medicine they’d poured into me for months. I hadn’t taken a pill for days. I hadn’t sleepwalked. Though maybe having Glass wrapped around me most nights was helping with that.

I grinned. Yeah, it was.

He’d threatened to tie me to the bed if I did, but he hadn’t. I was tempted to pretend to sleepwalk.

I caught up to him, hopping when a bit of gravel sneaked into my sandals, then had to try to extract the rock while standing like a flamingo on one leg.

Glass waited patiently. The beach beckoned at the end of this short track between the houses. From the other side of the fence to the right, a red cattle dog wagged its tail at us.

I tossed away the pebble then reached over the fence and offered the back of my hand to the dog to sniff. When he proved friendly, I gave him a few pats.

Glass came up beside me. “Take care. He might’ve bitten.”

I scoffed. “I’m going to be a veterinarian. I think I’ve got more experience with dog language than you.”

“True. If you’re okay with walking across the rocks, we can go there.”

He pointed to the right of the beach, where a jumble of boulders speared out into deeper water.

At my nod, we wandered down the track and over the road to the beach. We reached the softer sand and I took off my shoes. The cool crunch of sand underfoot said
be you
, more than anything. Salt air, late crabs scuttling to their holes as us humans tromped past, and the debris from higher waves wet under my soles, and Glass, a man who seemed to just take everything in his stride. I could feel the last of the anxiety ebbing from me. I was always anxious. How light could I get without all that worry? I might float away this morning.

Life was good. Tears pricked my eyes. I had no clue what was happening except that I was happy.

When we’d settled the gear on the rocks, and Glass began hooking on the bait, I sat, hands in my lap, or on the smooth rock to either side, listening to the waves while watching the deft movements of his hands. He knew I wasn’t much of a fisherperson. Sharing this was more about just sharing than about fishing to me. I’d learn a little, and be with him.

Glass wasn’t just growing on me. He was seeping into my being.

He glanced up at me. “Today, I’m going to contact a hacker who has contacts on the inside of the ISP involved with the email tracked here. If we can get access to the database, we should be able to narrow the origin of the message further.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

I wasn’t sure why we had to come here personally to do all that, but I’d go with the flow and let Glass do this his way. I was paying him a hundred thousand for this so there wasn’t much point in me trying to direct things. In a few days, if we weren’t getting anywhere, perhaps I would call this off. After vowing to spend a year doing this, I’d lost my motivation. Glass had helped me see it in perspective against the landscape of actually living my own life.

When I looked at this rationally, I’d been prepared to let my father control me from beyond the grave. Not good.

“I even have...” He paused. “Some contacts in the police force here. That may or may not pan out. And one of my men will be here soon too. I don’t like being your only guard until Hugh arrives.” His gaze turned thoughtful as he tied the knot in the line. He opened the packet of what was apparently preserved worms.

I pulled a face. Definitely no fishing for me. I could dissect a formalin-preserved dog but worms were just too icky, unless someone was demanding I do it for an exam question.

“Do I get a name?”

“J? As good as I can do.” He grimaced. “Sorry. I have an aversion to revealing who my men are. I’ll get past it, once I know Hugh isn’t going to try calling the law down on us.”

It was a good point. He and his man were more vulnerable than I was. I had an excuse for being here. And I’d learned from Father. I knew ways to twist the law to my advantage. Hugh had contacts of his own I could call on. Not direct bribes, no. Favors. They were good for most things. From bending a politician to your will, to someone lesser.

“I understand. However, I will be instructing Hugh to be civil to you and not to interfere.”

“Good.” He threaded the worm onto the hook, bit by bit then stepped over to a rock nearer the water. “If I catch anything, will you eat it for breakfast?”

“Sure. I’ll even try cooking it.” Though getting the bones out might be beyond me. How to fillet fish was a mystery I’d not solved.

“You might regret that if I catch a shark or a stingray.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ll be throwing those back.”

The line whizzed as it curled through the air and out over the ocean. There was Glass, all manly and athletic, muscles showing nicely through that white T-shirt, and here was me trying not to drool.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“Huh.” He half-turned, eyebrow up.

“To find you. You’re a catch too, you know.”

“Flattery won’t save you if you’re a bad girl,” he murmured, eye on the line as it washed back and forth in the waves.

How was it he could make me shiver with such a casual phrase?

“Which reminds me. What if something happens to you? Not that it will. But what if you end up in jail or fall off a cliff and break a leg? Will Hugh be understanding then? I need you to explain this to him. He’s not to go off halfcocked for any reason.”

That stunned me, until I realized this was Glass at his professional best – assessing future threats and planning.

He put down the line and jumped to my rock to sit beside me. “Hey. I saw the sad face. I’m only being practical. If I bring...Jurgen here, I need to be able to guarantee he’s as safe as possible. He might be a merc, but I take care of my men. I also take care of you. You won’t be falling off any cliffs.”

He’d said that name deliberately.

“I figured that already, though you did worry me for a second.” I smiled half-heartedly as he gave me a one-armed hug. “Thank you for trusting me with his name. I won’t tell Hugh, but I will tell him what you said about co-operating. Good enough?”

“Yes. Thanks.” He kissed my head. “I’m taking you to the Red Gecko for lunch. It’s across the bay in town. European cuisine, so expect anything from burgers to roulade of pork with a sauce of overripe figs done with caviar bon-bons.”

“Oh. My. God. You made that up, totally. Though I will be disappointed if they don’t have caviar bon-bons.”

It turned out to be lucky we had bread, avocados, and eggs at the house since all the fish in the sea were partying elsewhere. By the time lunch came around, Glass had towed me across the town, from one end to the other, speaking to his sources and I was ready to eat a chef.

The Red Gecko was on stilts out over the bay. Nothing made me happier than eating while being able to look out over water. I was a bit of a water baby and had visited many upper-echelon restaurants sited like this, as well as surf lifesaving clubs up and down the east coast of Australia. Always, it was for the view, since the food at the clubs was rather hit or miss.

With my fork half way to my mouth, carrying flakes of grilled salmon, I had another of those moments of happiness. Seeing Glass shovel food into his mouth was strangely satisfying.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“What?” he asked past the mouthful.

“I think I’m having a maternal moment over you eating.”

“Say again?” He slowed in his chewing, frowning.

“Never mind. I’m being silly.”

Disconcerting, though. I’d never ever wanted to see a man eat, just because it made me feel good. Was that a sign of love? I guess I could suppress my urge to stick a fork in my eyes.

Love...foreign concept. My brother had been the only person I could attach that emotion to...since Nathan had died. And then my brother had died too. Sobering. Maybe love wasn’t my best game.

“Hey.” Glass had reached over and squeezed my hand. “Looking glum here might just be a spanking offense.”

“It’s nothing.” I smiled back. “Memories.”

A man across the room was staring at me. Suit and tie sort with a stern disapproving expression. A face of stone. My dress perhaps? The pink gown with the feathers motif was mid-calf and had the most plunging cleavage. If I leaned too far, something might fall out, considering I hadn’t found a bra to suit it.

Some amazing dresses had called to me at a small stall in a shopping arcade over on the island. Next time wear the revealing dresses at nighttime? No. That was stupid. I’d never let others determine my clothes. I wasn’t going to start now.

Look all you like, mister.
I shot him a look of tired insouciance as if I’d just gotten back from Paris.
Fuck you, sir.

Now that cheered up my day immensely. Next time I’d wear a bikini. Around here, it was surprising no one else had tried that.

As we ate and exchanged small talk, a revelation of sorts sneaked in, then came down
wham
like a hammer of doom. I wasn’t stupid. Top of the class at times, though university was more challenging than high school. What Glass had been doing, what he’d said, it seemed smoke and mirrors. I knew something about tracking down people on the net. This conclusion had arrived in my head all on its own. It was a familiar way to learn, for me – complex knowledge learned at lectures, or through textbooks, sometimes hit me like this, when I least expected it.

Was this all smoke and mirrors? There was more magic here than how he conjured up money, friends, and houses. He was pretending to help me.

I stared at my plate and stirred the rice into a small pile, then nibbled a few grains.

Don’t say anything. Not yet. I’m wrong. I must be.

If I was right though, what the hell was Glass to me? If he was lying to me about that, was the whole lover and Dom thing pretend too? Please let me be wrong.

“Dessert and coffee?”

I glanced at him. This man had flipped back into stranger slash predator territory. Was everything false? My stomach squeezed in. Queasy was the best word for how I felt.

Vomiting was a distinct possibility.

“No.” I flashed a smile. “I’m full. Can we go?”

“Sure.”

On the way out, I passed the table where that annoying man sat. He was busy on the phone and I’d been forgotten.

My awareness rolled for a moment then settled.

Glass walked at my elbow, talking to me, and yet all of me felt forgotten and separate from the world. The walls had come up, again.

Moghul

It was her.
Wren.
As she walked past with him, I was certain. Even across the room, and with her tanned and happier than in previous videos and stills, I’d been ninety-nine percent certain.

The Chinese buyer was in town. I was supposed to meet him in an hour. I eyed the text on the phone screen and ignored her as she walked past. Excellent subterfuge there – stare at the woman and man trying to track you down.

I’d lived years without getting messy and thought myself smart, because I guess I was smart. And now, I was contemplating taking that step off that cliff into air.

What if I could do this with my usual meticulous preparation? Lessen the risk to almost zero.

I rechecked the phone screen where my reply text waited for me to press send.

Sorry. Changed my mind.

I won’t be signing the contract. Please apologize to the buyer.

I shut my eyes and simply sat there
anticipating
for so long a waitress came over and tapped my shoulder. Her heels had clopped across the floor and I’d smelled her perfume long before she touched me. I may have startled her when I opened my eyes, as she blanched and leaned away.

“I’m sorry, sir, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I nodded slowly. “I’m far better than I’ve ever been and in a day or so, I think that will be surpassed.”

“Oh.” She looked nonplussed.

“I’m fucking good. That work for you?” I dabbed my mouth with the napkin, threw it down, and shoved back my chair.

“Of course, sir.” She backed away some more.

I loved how waitresses called a man sir.

I walked to the desk, sorting through who I could call in for this one.

My businesses were all humming along and could do without me fine-tuning things for a week, maybe two, three. I could send a few instructions for them then be done.

First the acquisition, then the transfer of my new possession without risking anyone identifying me, then her installation. It would work.

There was property and there was
property.

I paid some cloned receptionist whose face I forgot as soon as I turned away.

I pressed the send button. Done.

Now, onward, fucking onward. Release the hounds. Cry havoc. All kinds of bad things were in the offing.

My shoes echoed on the hardwood floor on the way out, then on the concrete of the pavement. I was navigating by sound and half-hearted memory, because what was inside my head was far more scintillating.

I was looking forward to this in the worst possible way.

*****

Wren

The walk along the beach that night helped me clear things up in my head. Glass and I should talk. I was probably wrong, just getting cold feet. He’d never shown himself to be anything except a caring man, once you minused out the sex machine. I grinned. Yes, talk. It was the brave and the right thing to do. I’d never lacked for bravery before.