Zipper Fall (35 page)

“The week went by pretty fast,” he allowed. “You’ve been here for only a few days, though.”

“I have other clients, too. Suddenly, I got slammed, and there’s no way I can tell them to wait.”

He chuckled his breathy laugh. “Keep goin’ like that, and you’ll have to start a regular company.”

“I sent two of the bigger ones to Pillory.”

He nodded. “A man of his word. Although I always knew you would be.”

Rick performed his speech over and over until he sounded natural and not so nervous anymore. When he remembered not to speak to the ceiling or to the floor, we called Jack and his other partner, Louis Schiffer, to be our audience. As I looked around at them, it struck me as interesting that these guys were getting a fresh start in Pittsburgh after their pyramid scheme disaster, while their bosses sat in jail. The one exception to the jail part was Kevin Toussey, who escaped his jail sentence by going blind and living in an assisted living institution. There seemed to have been a connection between Risby Haus and Kevin Toussey, and I suddenly wondered whether the two were in cahoots over Celia’s murder.

Rick ran through his PowerPoint presentation without a hitch.

“Not bad, not bad,” Schiffer said in his customary monotone, eyes sparkling behind his glasses with attention to detail. Coming from him, it meant “Bloody fantastic! You’re such a genius!”

Rick knew that. “I just follow the commands of our marketing queen here.”

I could just feel Jack stiffen, but he didn’t say anything. He’d been so controlled in the last few days—mellow, even—to the point of absurdly boring. I met his eyes from across the conference table. “Lunch?” he asked.

“Please.”

His azure eyes brightened at my response, and he nodded to the others. “Wyatt and I will be out for an hour.”

“Aww, Jack, you’re excluding me again.” Rick’s cackle followed us out the door and echoed all the way down to the elevators.

Few days ago, I woke up with those familiar arms around me. The dawn light passed through the sheer curtains, reflected by the large mirror with shy hesitation. The sideways cityscape graced the other wall, emanating its hopeful cheer.

My room, my bed, my clock. My place.

The arms pulled me in some more, reminding me of my dilemma.

My thoughts churned. Allowing Azurri to sleep over had been a mistake, because I had trouble sorting out my jumbled thoughts while he was around. He did behave himself, however, and his restraint was the very picture of contrition. Now, his pleasant warmth kept me comfortable and cocooned as he was spooning me from behind, his arms squeezing me tight. Unbidden, a thought of old, ragged Puissy with its stuffing coming out floated into my consciousness. I’ve become his comfort item and now basked in his warmth, enjoying the firm press of his body, the firm pillow of his relaxed arm, his breath in my hair. Despite what had transpired between us, I found his warm scent pleasantly arousing. That fact alone imbued my chest with a warm, fluffy feeling, Perhaps there was hope for us still.

The luxurious embrace was shattered by the sound of his cell phone alarm. His arms left me out in the cold; I felt him tuck me in and sneak out of my new bed, then slip into yesterday’s clothes. I let him, curious to see what he’d do. My eyes fluttered almost shut. I felt his shadow over me as he leaned to kiss my forehead.

“Gotta go, Wyatt. I have to be in the office by eight.”

I reached out from under the warm covers and pulled him down for a kiss. “Okay,” I mumbled, feigning sleep. Our lips met; I couldn’t pretend anymore and cracked open my eyes. His gaze was guarded, hesitant. I gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Jack.”

He sank to his knees, burying his face under my chin. “Oh God, Wyatt. I… I… I don’t deserve you. I gotta go.” His voice was tight and raspy, overcome by emotion, and I was sorry to see him disappear out the door.

The lock clicked shut and I was alone in my space. The spicy scent of Jack was the only reminder that he spent the night.

The elevator came. We stepped into the empty cab. Jack, whom I had known to push through other people’s personal boundaries without a wink, stuck his hands behind his back and leaned on them. This was the first time we were alone since Sunday.

I craved his touch.

I had also behaved. I didn’t even dare think of casing a place, which of course meant I was in dire need of my adrenaline fix. Hazard is what makes my world interesting, and adrenaline can be obtained in various ways. The threat of being caught is one of them.

I closed the three feet between us and let my arms slide up his shoulders. “Hey, Jack.”

His hands stayed behind his back.

I pulled his head toward me and pressed my lips against his in a tender kiss. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said with a tight smile. “I’m… I’m just working on it, y’know?”

“Working on what?”

“Control.”

“I meant what I said.” My voice was stern. My expression of love might have been a drunken one, but it was no less genuine for all that.

“I know.” His hands finally emerged from their hiding place. With careful hesitation, he slipped them around my back, pulling me in. His chin rested on top of my head for another three floors. “I want to be deserving of those words, Wyatt.”

Then the elevator ground to a halt and broke our embrace, standing side by side as several office drones stepped in. I couldn’t have described them if my life depended on it.

W
HEN
we got to the restaurant, he opened the door for me. He pulled the chair out for me. He asked me what I’d like to eat.

I sighed. In his effort to gain better control over his temper, he’d started to treat me like a girl—a fictional female made of spun glass. It was all very courteous, and chivalrous, and Victorian. I decided not to say anything. First, the experience was rather intriguing—nobody had ever treated me like that before. A brief thought of dressing in pink, fluffy dresses to better fill the role crossed my mind—an amusing thought best suppressed. Second, I don’t think he’d have stopped if I asked him to. He had a Strategy in mind, one with a capital
S
, and he’d follow it in his quest for personal perfection. I could only hope it was just a short-lived phase and he wouldn’t go too overboard.

Twenty minutes later I was playing with my chopsticks, chasing an errant grain of rice
.
“Craggs called,” I said. “He wants me to create a marketing program for his gym. They started losing the women to Zumba.”

“What’s Zumba?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. Some exercise. These fads are cyclical, though. He needs to up his membership. So we devised this Internet coupon strategy for an almost-free introductory seminar to climbing.”

“Oh yeah? How much is he paying?”

“We bartered. The two of us get to climb and rent gear free for a year.”

“Is that worth it?”

“Depends on how often we climb. However”—I punctuated with my chopsticks in the air—“he’ll ask Risby Haus to teach the seminar. Craggs will feign being sick with the flu, and Carlos will feign having a sprained wrist, so they’ll turn to him. He has the expertise. It will stroke his ego just to be asked.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So, what’s the catch?”

“I get to participate as a novice climber. That way, it won’t be suspicious for him to run into me, considering he sees me at your place a lot.” And that way, I would get to flirt with him and get to know him closer—like an undercover 007.

“No.”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “It’s already been arranged. It’s this Saturday, nine to noon. In case you don’t realize, this will be highly frustrating for me. I have to play a newbie. It’s not like I’ll get to climb and have fun at all.”

“I don’t like it.” I saw his hands grip the edge of the table so hard, he crinkled the white tablecloth.

“Carlos will be there, supervising. Afterward, the guys and Reyna and I are meeting at Loose Rock to discuss what I’ve found and to just hang out. I thought… would you like to come along?”

His eyes bored into me. “I see you have it all planned out. I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way. It won’t bring Celia back to life.”

“You don’t want to see justice done?”

“I do! Of course I do. I’ve spent sleepless nights, thinking of so many different ways to just kill that unworthy sonovabitch.” He took in my expression of concern and understanding. “I won’t. Not unless he threatens you.”

“You’re not the only one, Jack. There’s a whole community of climbers out there that loved her. You have no idea the lengths she went through to recruit and train new climbers. To inspire them, see? One climber killing another like that—it violates everything we do. Everything this sport stands for. Letting another guy, or gal, hold the end of that rope while you’re up there is a sacred trust. Had he just shot her in some alley, it would have been cleaner. We can’t stand for this. We police our own.”

Jack’s straining jaw muscle couldn’t have been any tighter. I observed in quiet fascination as he stood, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wide.

Anything could have happened. Storming out. Shouting. Slamming the table with his fist.

He did none of that. With quiet determination, he extricated the serving platter from underneath his curry bowl and threw it, as hard as he could, against the nearest wall. The eerie silence was broken as the sound of shattered china ran counter to the cacophony of alarmed shouts of waiters and customers alike.

W
E
TOOK
the long way to the office, walking fast, shedding excess adrenaline. It wasn’t every day we got thrown out of a restaurant. There was a nip in the air, and I felt my face flush with both weather and excitement.

“So… Jack.”

“Uh-huh?”

“How did it feel?”

He stopped and grinned, his sexy, devastating smirk back at full power. He pushed my shoulders against the rough surface of a carved lion that guarded one of the oldest banks in Pittsburgh. The fine weave of my suit jacket’s fabric gripped the statue’s abrasive sandstone grains, and I felt the delicate fibers snag. “It felt fucking fabulous.”

I grinned back, throwing my head back against the cool stone. Inviting him. Soft, demanding lips claimed mine.

Finally!

I gasped in pleasure at our first kiss in many days. He swallowed my whimper as my fingers plunged into his warm, wavy hair.

Don’t stop… don’t… stop….

We broke for air, laughing like idiots.

“If I don’t get any work done today, it’s your fault, Gaudens.”

“I’m almost done with Rick—I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“I don’t want you out of my hair.”

We left the solid support of the sculpture. We walked side by side, letting our fingers brush all the way back to Jack’s office.

M
Y
ROPE
spun as I hung in the air, helpless. Bare, muscled legs emerged from my tight Lycra shorts, stretched and bent in a casual display as I arched my torso back, throwing my head back to give Risby Haus a sultry, upside-down grin.

“I don’t know how you do it, Risby. That ledge is bloody impossible.”

He smirked and belayed me down, nice and slow. “Straighten up. You want to land on your feet.”

I did, letting the unfamiliar, rented climbing shoes I wore hit the rubber padding of the North Face Climbing Gym floor. I didn’t bring my comfortable and already broken-in gear. A few of the other class attendees made appreciative noises as to the quality of my effort. I only hoped I didn’t do too well before I lost my grip and fell off. “Yeah, thanks!” I grinned, noticing Carlos’s stunned face in my peripheral vision. “That was my best try so far!”

“Yer doin’ okay, kid,” Risby said, patting my shoulder, his long-fingered hand resting there just a bit longer than convention demanded. “Next!”

Others took their turns, two of them making it as far as I had. Class was officially over after that, and Carlos appeared with a handful of pamphlets and coupons, encouraging us all to come and try again. It was time to turn in the rented harnesses and climbing shoes and join the others in reentering our regular, mundane lives.

The harness I had on wasn’t anywhere as nice as the one I owned. Its too-narrow straps had the unfortunate tendency to get stuck in the buckles. I knew how to remedy the problem, of course, but since the others were struggling with their harnesses, I was determined to flail around and struggle with mine. “Damn… this stupid… thing’s….
stuck
!” I hissed, just loud enough to be overheard, yanking on a strap and tightening it even more.

“Havin’ trouble there, Wyatt?”

I scowled at Risby, mostly because it was expected. “I’m stuck.”

“Here, lemme help ya.” The tall man knelt before me and slid his fingers along the stuck strap. He gave it an experimental tug. “Spread your legs a bit,” he said. I watched his face as he said that, and I noticed the way he suppressed a grin. “It’s so tight, it doesn’t want to let go. I’ll need to get some slack.”

“Uh… okay.” I moved my feet a shoulder’s width apart, feeling Risby’s fingers slide under the leg straps digging into my thighs. I felt his hand turn in the tight space, his thumb wedged under the offending strap, pulling it forward and gaining enough slack to loosen the buckle with his other hand. He switched hands and repeated the process on the other side; this time, his fingers brushed against my front on the way out. Even knowing he’d probably do that, the drag of his long fingers over my Lycra-covered tender bits startled me; I made a show of biting back a gasp and stumbling forward. I caught myself on his shoulder. He was staring at my navel. My tight shorts left little to the imagination. It was, after all, my job to lead Risby on.

He unfastened the main buckle, letting my harness fall to the ground. He let his eyes pause on my chest before he let our eyes meet, and then he grinned, revealing a set of white, prominent teeth. “You may wanna be careful with those straps.”