“Not funny!” Rachel whipped around with her hand up threateningly, causing Jean to squeal and cringe defensively in her seat. She looked over at Nick, expecting some form of reaction but he was watching the road and smiling. “Aren’t you going to say something, Dad?”
“We all handle this mess in a different way,” Nick answered. “Any way a seven year old wants to handle what Jean’s dealing with is okay by me.”
Nick glanced at Jean in the rear view mirror. “As long as the seven year old doesn’t get us all killed by forgetting to play her part in front of strangers.”
“I’ll be eight next month, August thirtieth,” Jean announced. “I won’t forget, Nick.”
“Good enough. It’s going to be hot in the house. I left the sliding glass door open for Deke and set the thermostat at eighty-five. We can take him for a walk when it gets dark.”
“Aren’t you afraid we might have a break in?”
“I have a vault in the house it would take more than your average goon to even find, let alone break into. Besides, we can’t put Deke out in the back all day.”
“I think you like our dog more than you do Jean and me.”
“That obvious, huh?” Nick asked, getting a punch in the shoulder for his trouble.
Nick brought up the rear as Rachel and Jean walked from the garage through the connecting doorway. Hearing Rachel gasp, and Jean start laughing, Nick caught up with them at the entrance into the living room. Every loose cushion in the home’s lower floor had been dragged through the sliding door into the back yard. Rachel turned to Nick as he glanced between the bare furniture and the cushion mound in his backyard with tight-lipped surprise.
“Please don’t kill him, Nick,” Rachel pleaded.
“Hey Nick, it looks like Deke found his own way of dealing with our mess.” Jean gestured at Deke, who lay on his back at the very top of his pillow mountain, paws curled against his chest as he stared sideways at his human companions.
Nick glared at Deke and then grinned. “Well at least he didn’t rip them apart first.”
Nick vacuumed the last of the cushions. He handed it to Rachel. “I needed to do a cleaning. Nice of Deke to remind me.”
Deke ‘gruffed’ from where he lay, next to the couch where Rachel placed the cushion.
“See, he’s really sorry.” Rachel threw the cushion into place and stroked Deke’s head.
“Yeah, he looks real repentant.” Nick laughed. “We should have taken a picture of him up on his cushions. What’s Jean doing?”
“Playing video games in her room. I bet you like us better than the dog now.”
“Even with dragging them out into the shade, it was hot work.” Nick ignored Rachel’s dig. “Deke needs a challenge. Did he ever rearrange your furniture while you were at work?”
“No, but he used to take all Jean’s stuffed animals out of her room and throw them around the house. He’s still a puppy. Deke turned three only a couple months ago.”
“That’s twenty-one in dog years.” Nick pointed at the attentive Deke. “He’s old enough for the death penalty.”
Deke immediately sat up and extended a paw.
“Very shrewd.” Nick shook the dog’s paw. When he released it, Deke gave him his other paw to shake. “I’m going to the grocery store and get this clown a few soup bones. Want to make out a list for me? I have a barbeque stored in the garage. Does Jean eat steak?”
“Sure.” Rachel nodded. “I’ll make a list. Do you want us to go with you?”
“I’d rather not leave your four legged furniture mover alone for the time being.” Nick pushed Deke’s head playfully before standing. “You make the list, and I’ll check in with our US Marshal connection.”
Nick retrieved his satellite phone and called Grace. The indicator he’d attached to register a trace went from green to red almost instantly when he heard Grace’s voice.
“I see you’re tracing us.” Nick watched for the red light to start blinking.
“It’s not us, Nick, I…hey…how do you know we’re tracing the call?”
“I’m checking in. So far, we’re okay on this end. We only have seconds left on this call. Anything you need to tell us?”
“Keep your heads down. If you hear some other voice besides Tim or me when you call, run.”
“Noted. Any luck getting the one who accidentally killed our shooter?”
“We hit the cover-up wall on this, hence the phone tap. There are also rumors starting to fly around about what a bad guy you are. Anonymous tips from official sources are telling us you may be more dangerous than the people we’re trying to bring down.”
“I told you, writers are very dangerous people. I can make you into a complete idiot in one sentence.”
“Oh really?” Grace snorted derisively.
“The frumpy US Marshall named Grace leaned against the alleyway wall, picking her nose, glancing up periodically while looking for witnesses to the loathsome act.”
“Frumpy? What do you mean, frumpy? I-”
“Times up,” Nick said as the red light began blinking. He disconnected.
Nick found Rachel at the kitchen table writing out a grocery list. He sat down next to her, liking her choice to stay in the black bikini. Nick ran his hand lightly over Rachel’s nearly bare back. She shivered under his touch, but kept working on the list.
“You’re disturbing my grocery list concentration.”
“I assumed you stayed in the bikini so I would disturb you.”
“I need you to install a tracking device on my daughter. Her appearances seem connected to the first moment I feel your hand on me.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Nick promised, kissing the back of Rachel’s neck. “Jean had quite a workout today. Maybe she’ll go to bed early.”
“Maybe…oh, Nick…don’t stop…”
Nick had stood up behind Rachel, massaging her shoulders and neck, trailing his hands down her back, thumbs kneading the spine, while his fingers splayed out along her sides with feathery touches. When he reached the base of Rachel’s spine, his hands worked slowly back up to her neck again. Rachel dropped the pen, head leaning forward to the table surface, a groan escaping her lips as she shuddered under Nick’s hands. Her breathing quickened as Nick’s fingers moved down past the hip area and his thumbs manipulated deeply into her spinal column all the way to the base. Sweat beaded on Rachel’s lip, and the goose flesh from a moment ago felt on fire now. Rachel almost cried out for Nick to keep his hands where they were, as his fingers and thumbs crept up her back once again. By the time Nick completed the cycle to Rachel’s neck and shoulders, her fists were clenched on the table, and her breathing sounded closer to a pant. When Nick again reached the base of Rachel’s spine, his fingers gripped her hips. Rachel’s head shot up and her back arched.
“Oh…oh God…” Rachel moaned, her arms clasped around herself as if a sudden chill of arctic air had swept through the kitchen. She collapsed against the chair back, ankles crossed under the chair, and her thighs pressed together tightly.
Nick leaned around in front of Rachel, his lips caressing hers briefly.
“Like that?”
“What…what did you do to me…? Jesus…” Rachel opened her eyes. She reached for Nick’s face with her own trembling hands.
The doorbell rang. A forbidding look swept over Nick’s face. He could see his violent change of mood infected Rachel in an instant as she straightened quickly in her chair, looking up at him expectantly.
“I’m going to have to kill something pretty soon.” Nick gave Rachel a quick and final kiss. “I’ll get it. I’m coming…strike that…I’m walking.”
Deke lay in front of the door, a low growl emanating from the base of his throat. Nick motioned Rachel back into the kitchen. Looking out the door’s security eyehole, Nick saw a heavily built man in tan slacks and a dark blue short-sleeved shirt, with the shirttail pulled out over his pants. The man’s dark hair was fashionably long, his face lined, clean shaven, and menacing. Nick made some mental calculations and then opened the door.