Chapter 12
Jude paused in the kitchen doorway just in time to hear Tim say, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay it back.”
Sitting at the table, arms crossed, Denny shrugged. “So let’s figure it out. You kept saying ‘they,’ as in more than one person. How many were there?”
To Jude’s amazement, Tim seemed far less wary of Denny than he had just a few hours ago. He also looked better, with all the blood removed and much of the swelling gone down. Bruises colored his face, but he no longer looked so pained.
On top of that, Denny had mellowed his obvious contempt for Tim. They almost seemed to be…relating to each other. Weird.
“Three, I think,” Tim answered. “A driver, the guy who pounded on me, and the one who called the shots.”
“Only three, huh?”
Tim rolled his eyes at the obvious insult.
Scents of Denny’s famous bourbon mustard chicken filled the air, making Jude’s stomach rumble. “Sorry I’m late.” He strode in, but since dinner remained on the stove, instead of on the table, he chose to lean against the counter.
Denny turned to him. “Well, hallelujah. ’Bout time you joined us. I thought I’d need to send in the National Guard.” Frowning, he looked through the doorway and beyond, then threw up his hands. “Where’s May?”
“She’s on her way.” He hoped. Denny could be a real pain in the ass about punctuality, a side effect of his own strict regimen.
Tim curled his lip. “Don’t worry. She won’t miss dinner.”
Jude’s temper sparked, until Denny said, “That’ll cost you twenty laps.”
“What?”
Pushing back his chair and heading for the stove, Denny added, “Right after dinner.”
“That’s bullshit!”
With a spoon in his hand, Denny turned. “Keep it up, and you’ll spend all night in the pool.”
Like a petulant boy, Tim slunk down in his chair. The frown, added to his bruises, made him look ghastly. But he didn’t argue with Denny.
The interlude with May had refreshed Jude, and now he wanted to tackle some of the problems. “Were you supposed to contact the three men after I was dead?”
“I couldn’t. I don’t have a number or name or anything.”
“Then how would you let them know you’d fulfilled your end of the bargain?”
Tim sank lower and kept his gaze on the table top. “They said if they didn’t read your obit in the daily within a week, they’d be coming after me.”
Denny reached for a bottle of wine, and Jude said, “Let’s have tea.” He made a mental note to have Denny get rid of all the booze in the house. If something upset May, then out it’d go. And that included her drunken sot of a brother.
They shared a look, and Denny nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too. I’ve got some fresh tea in the fridge.” He set out the pitcher and four tall glasses. “Describe the men, Tim.”
“I can’t. It was dark.”
“So?” One by one, food-filled dishes occupied the tabletop in pleasing array. Potatoes, rolls, asparagus, and lastly, the chicken. Denny did have a thing about making the most of the dinner presentation. “You still have to have some sense of whether or not they were big men or runts, if they had deep voices or any type of accent.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it, damn it. You’ve got a brain—least I think you do.” Denny glanced at the still empty doorway, then his watch, his impatience palpable.
May came bustling up to the doorway. Smiling, Jude again noted how she jiggled and bounced in such a pleasing way, as if energy and life just sparked off her. She’d pulled her hair back in a high ponytail that added emphasis to her rosy cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.
The dinner no longer smelled as good, and his previously raging appetite took a sharp turn from food to sex. With May so damn cute and beddable, and available, how could he think of anything but her?
“Sorry I’m late!”
Jude noticed right off that she’d put the hideous bra back on, but all things considered, he supposed he shouldn’t complain. By tomorrow, he’d have new clothes for her to wear—including lingerie.
He could hardly wait.
“You’re right on time,” Denny told her, and he smacked Tim in the side of the head, forcing him to stand until after Jude had seated her. “Manners, boy. I’ll beat them into you if I have to.”
May looked ready to protest that, so Jude took out her chair and updated her on their conversation. “We were just discussing the men who jumped your brother.”
“What about them?”
Jude pushed in her chair, and then seated himself beside her. “Obviously, it was dark, but I was just about to tell Tim that the way a man speaks can reveal a lot about him. Did the men sound like thugs, or were they smoother than that?”
With shaking hands, Tim lifted his napkin and arranged it in his lap. He cleared his throat, fidgeted in his seat, and kept looking at May with mixed accusation and entreaty.
Disgusted, Jude slapped his hands down on the table. “I asked you a question, Tim. May isn’t going to answer it for you.”
Busy serving herself potatoes from the bowl Denny passed her, May glanced up as if only then realizing her brother’s dilemma. Stewed potatoes held aloft, she blinked. “I wasn’t even there, Tim. I didn’t hear them speak.”
Jude hated the apology in her tone. But he had enough sense not to try to sever her protective streak toward her brother. Her relationship with her family was something she’d have to deal with in her own way.
But he did intend to help.
“Come on, Tim. You must remember something.”
“They were big, I guess.” Tim rubbed his brow. “I know I felt squashed between them in the backseat. One of the men had a deep voice, but…sort of…I don’t know. Cultured. Soft. He enjoyed hurting me, I know that.”
Denny glared at Jude. “Sound like anyone we know?”
“Many people, actually.” Sure, Elton had men working for him who had affected a smooth way of talking—but that didn’t incriminate him in any way. “It’s not much to give the cops.”
“Cops?” Going rigid in his seat, Tim turned his panicked gaze on May. “But we agreed—”
“You’re not the only one involved, Tim.” She passed the platter of chicken to Jude. “When Jude decides the time is right, we’ll need the police as backup. But it’s his decision.”
“Why his? I’m the one who got smashed.”
“He’s the one they want dead.”
Everyone ignored Tim’s heartfelt groans.
“Elton wouldn’t show up in person,” Denny speculated aloud. “Not for a beating. But it could be his boys.”
“His boys?” May asked.
“The bastard has a string of lowlifes working for him. He fancies himself a modern-day mafioso.”
“Oh, great. This gets worse by the second,” Tim complained.
“First thing we need to figure out is how the hell to repay the loan—”
Tim’s cell phone rang, startling everyone at once. May gulped down the bite of potato in her mouth. Jude pushed his plate aside. And Tim, struggling to his feet, fumbled his flip phone from his pocket.
He was about to open it to receive the call when Denny snatched it out of his hand.
“Let’s put it on speakerphone, so we can all hear.” Smiling with evil intent, Denny added, “And pretend you’re alone, Tim. Answer questions the right way. Or by God, regardless of what Jude wants, I’ll toss your ass to the curb.”
To keep May from interfering, Jude squeezed her shoulder. But truthfully, she looked impressed with Denny’s believable bluster. Did she know it was all hot air?
Denny opened the phone, hit a button to put the call on loudspeaker, and handed it back to Tim.
In the spotlight, Tim paled, but he said into the phone, “’Lo?”
“Tim, Tim, Tim. You still alive, you miserable fuck?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Tim asked, “Who is this?”
“You owe me some money. Or have you accomplished the payback without me knowing?”
“Uh, no.” As if to draw strength, Tim’s gaze locked on May’s. “No, I haven’t.”
“I don’t want details, but when do you plan to do it?”
“I, ah, I’m going to pay the money back instead.”
An awesome silence fell, then anger ripped the air. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Tim nearly dropped the phone. “The…the fifty thousand. I’ll pay it.”
“Where’d you get it? Did you go crying to that know-it-all sister of yours? She planning to sell everything? Well, forget it. You don’t have that kind of time.”
With Denny prompting him through whispers, Tim asked, “Um…how much time do I have?”
“Tomorrow. Think you can handle that?”
Jude nodded at Tim, so he said, “Yes, I can handle it.”
Another shocked silence, and then in a vicious growl, “You better not be fucking with me.”
Tim looked ready to throw up, until Denny gave him a slight shove. “No, no, I’m not. I wouldn’t. I swear.” He swallowed audibly. “Where should I send the money?”
“Send it? I don’t think so, Tim. I want it hand delivered to me, by you, at midnight tomorrow.”
Jude and Denny glanced at each other, shrugged, and nodded to Tim.
With palpable dread, Tim whispered, “Where?”
“I’ll call you in the morning to give you directions.” And the phone went dead.
Breathing hard, shaken down to her bones, May said, “Oh my God. This is awful. What are we going to do?”
To her amazement, Jude picked up his fork and cut into his chicken. “We’re going to eat, then I’m going to return some calls and arrange for the loan papers and money to be here first thing in the morning.”
Her mouth fell open. “You can’t just… eat. ”
“I’m sure as hell not going to let this meal go to waste.”
Looking for help, she turned to Denny. But as if the awful phone call hadn’t happened, he dug into his food.
When he realized she stared at him in horror, he nodded at her plate. “Go on, taste it. I’m a damn fine cook, and I’m waiting for appropriate praise from you.”
With no one else to share her angst, May looked at her brother. He seemed as shell-shocked as she felt. “Tim, are you okay?”
Tim opened his mouth, but Denny snorted. “Course he is. A man doesn’t let one stupid phone call destroy his appetite.” He glanced at Tim, eyes narrowed, and said, “Ain’t that right, Tim?”
To her further stupefaction, Tim muttered, “Yeah,” and though his hands trembled, he picked up his fork and started eating.
May threw down her napkin. “You are all certifiable.”
While chewing, Jude sent her a sideways look. One eyebrow cocked, he put his fork on her plate, cut off a steaming bite of chicken, and held it to her mouth.
“Try it,” he urged. “You’ll see that enjoying Denny’s cooking is better than fretting over some yahoos too dumb to realize they’re about to get their asses kicked.”
When she opened her mouth to argue, Jude stuck the chicken in. May had no choice but to eat it. With Denny’s anxious gaze on her, she said, “Yes, it’s delicious.”
“Damn right.” Proud as a peacock, he said, “Told you you’d like it.”
“But, Jude—”
“It’s the dark brown sugar, the Dijon, and just a little bourbon,” Denny enthused, “that makes it so tender.”
Her idiot brother nodded his approval while stuffing his face. “Juicy.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
May stared until Jude caught her chin and turned her face toward him. “I already told you, I’m not going to let anyone hurt Tim or you.”
“And what about you?”
Denny snorted. “Don’t go insulting him like that, May. Jude can handle himself.”
Reluctantly, Tim said, “You should see him fight.”
“I’ve seen.”
“You have?”
Exasperated, she stared at Jude. His cavalier attitude made no sense. “He’s good. But that’s different from this.”
Disregarding the others in the room, Jude leaned forward and kissed her. “Don’t fret, May. I’ll take care of everything.” And with a pinch to her chin, he murmured, “Remember, I’m Jude Jamison.”
Meaning what? That he was impervious to pain? That he possessed supernatural powers that made him invincible?
Then logic kicked in, and she relaxed a little. Jude Jamison was a rich man. A man of incredible influence. He could buy safety, at least to a degree. If he hired bodyguards, and security men, and maybe a private eye or two to expose the ones making the threats, that’d go a long way toward ensuring the safety of everyone involved.
But why wouldn’t Jude just come right out and say so, if that was his intent?
His plate now half empty, Tim leaned forward on his elbows. “Denny and I watched a lot of DVDs. Bloody stuff. But I liked it.”
Laughing, Denny gave Tim an affectionate slug in the shoulder. “He says he liked it now, but when King got his leg broke in two places, I thought old Tim here was gonna barf.”
Tim made a face. “The man tried to keep fighting with his knee bent the wrong way.”
“Of course he did. He knew his corner would throw in the towel, so why should he tap out?”
Despite herself, May got pulled into the conversation. “I remember that one. He tried to deny he was hurt when everyone could see the breaks. He ended up with months of rehab.”
“He’s back now,” Denny said, “and stronger than ever.”
“But he’ll be up against Rico. He’s going to get his butt kicked, if you ask me.”
Jude smiled, while Denny lifted both eyebrows in surprise. “We’ve got a few more fights to watch. Maybe you’d like to join us in the theater while Jude makes his calls?”
Mention of the calls sent jealousy searing through May. After all, he’d be chatting with Uma Thurman, and that was enough to make any average woman green.
With everyone watching her, May didn’t dare show her resentment toward the other woman. Instead, she cut into her chicken and said, “I’d love to.” And to foster the blasé attitude, she added, “Pass the salt, please.”
Given the looks she received, she knew she hadn’t fooled anyone. Well, except maybe Tim. But then fooling a fool wasn’t much of a challenge.
Not one to give into fatigue, Ashley smiled her way through the remainder of her shift at the restaurant. After her classes and a couple of grueling tests, waiting tables for a few hours felt like a breeze. Already she’d gotten over sixty bucks in tips.
She only worked at the restaurant on a very part-time basis, picking up hours here and there around her class schedule and her maintenance job at the business complex. What she made at the upscale establishment rounded out her income.
Tonight the place was packed, so the time passed quickly. In less than an hour, she’d head off for her other job—and maybe run into Quinton Murphy again.
Her heart jumped a beat, and she mentally smacked herself.
Pffft. What was she thinking? So she’d bumped into the man one time? That didn’t mean it’d happen again. She didn’t want it to happen again. She really didn’t.
But in the back of her mind, she kept thinking about the possibility, what he’d say, what she’d say. How he’d look, and those super-nice green eyes of his.
Stupid.
Shoving Quinton out of her mind—again—she headed back to the floor to a table where the hostess had just seated several men. They were a rowdy-looking lot, flashy in the way of men unused to their money, the kind that still liked to flaunt it in the most obnoxious ways.
She saw all kinds, and enjoyed most, but the phony ones drove her nuts.
In the restaurant’s requisite white blouse and trim black slacks, she would have felt blah. But she’d countered the no-hue outfit with a sparkly lipstick and dangling beaded earrings. Soon as her shift ended, she’d exchange the white blouse for her beaded tank top in an animal print embellished with gold flecks. A little fancy—but she loved it.
To her mind, clothes that made her feel good didn’t need a special occasion. Besides, making money was the best occasion of all, worthy of a good shirt. And she liked the flash of the top under the florescent lights at the office building where she worked.
It had nothing to do with Quinton.
As she came up behind the table, she heard one man mutter, “I can’t wait to see the cocky son of a bitch finished. He’ll never know what hit him. It’s perfect.”
The man across the table spotted her and nodded to alert the others to her presence. Not that Ashley paid them much mind. Most of the executives who came to eat spent their time complaining about one thing or another, usually a colleague. These men didn’t look much like execs, but who knew?
“Good evening, gentlemen.” The hostess had already given them drinks and menus. “I’m Ashley, and I’ll be your waitress tonight.”
The loud, insulting one sized her up. Built like a squat refrigerator, his blond hair a bit too long and styled, his smile too lingering, he stood out from the others as the obvious leader of the pack. “Well, hello, Ashley.”
She pretended not to hear the smarmy way he said that. “Our soup tonight is baked French onion. A light beef broth with caramelized onions and—”
“We don’t want soup.”
“Ooookay.” She raised her brows in polite inquiry. “Would you like to order now, or do you need a little more time?”
Displaying a distinct lack of manners, he continued to slide his gaze all over her. He sucked at one tooth, then brought his attention to her face. “The steaks any good here?”
Ash plastered on her most brilliant smile and launched into the rehearsed description of the steaks. “The absolute best. We serve only Kobe beef, which is extraordinarily tender, finely marbled, and full flavored. We have a New York strip, a rib eye, and if you’re really hungry, I’d recommend the T-bone.”
“I’m hungry all right.” His gaze wandered to her nonexistent boobs and back to her face again. “I’ll take the T-bone.”
“How would you like it prepared?”
“I want it still kicking.”
“Rare it is. And to go with it?”
“A good-lookin’ woman would do.”
What an ass. “Sorry. That’s only on the breakfast menu.”
He glanced around the posh interior of the restaurant with confusion. “This place serves breakfast?”
“No.” They opened for lunch, but not before then.
Unamused, he bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. “How about you? When does your shift end?”
“Any minute now. So I better get these orders turned in.”
The men all guffawed, and finally, Blondie chimed in. But he didn’t fool Ashley. Her lack of response pissed him off.
Making it a point to move around the table—away from Blondie—she finished taking orders. With the promise of prompt service, she started to make her escape.
She’d gone only a few feet when she heard one of the men change the subject. “Did you call him again?”
“Not yet. I’m letting the aches and pains sink in first. A little form of incentive to make sure he gets the job done right.”
Aches and pains? The job? Struck with a terrible foreboding, Ashley stopped dead in her tracks. But she had no reason to linger, and doing so might make her look suspicious. When the men said nothing more, she checked on a diner, smiled at another, and moved away as casually as she could manage.
Apprehensive, she darted around the tables to the kitchen and turned in her order. She didn’t want to raise any doubts by delivering the meal late.
Praying no one would notice, she trotted to the break room. She didn’t carry her phone while working—management forbade private calls on the floors, and you never knew when it might ring. But she opened her locker in a flash, yanked the phone from her purse, and smiling at Denny’s cunning, pushed the number two button.
Denny answered on the first ring. “Problem?”
Obviously, for Denny to know who was calling, her name had popped up with her number. “Maybe.”
Brisk and businesslike, he demanded, “Where are you?”
“It’s okay, I’m fine.”
“Where?”
He needed to work on that surly temper. “I’m at the restaurant where I work.” She didn’t know how to pose the question without just asking it. “Can you describe that Elton Pascal dude that Jude doesn’t like?”
“Why?”
“I overheard a conversation from some men that’s got me curious.”
Denny asked no more questions. “He’s in his early forties. Stocky. Blonde. Slick. A real asshole.”
“Huh.”
“What the hell does that mean, girl?”
“It means…” Ashley drew in a breath, praying she wasn’t wrong. “Well, he might be here. In town. In the restaurant. With some other bulky guys, all ordering steak.”
“Shit.” She could practically hear Denny thinking. “When did he get there?”
“A few minutes ago. I just turned in his order. What should I do?”
“Stay the hell away from him.”
“I’m his waitress.”
“Fine. Serve him food. But don’t flirt, don’t argue, and definitely don’t be alone with him.”
Insulted, she said, “Did I strike you as the type to go off alone with jerks?”
“I mean it, child.”
“I’m not a child,” she pointed out.
“Do not get stubborn with me now.”
“All right, all right.” Amazing how he could bring her to near laughter no matter what. “Keep your shorts on.”
“Does May know where you work? Can she give me directions there?”
“Sure, but you don’t need to—”
“Be careful. And call if he starts to leave. I’ll go tell Jude right now.”
“Wait. I don’t want to alarm anyone—” The line went dead. Ashley glared at the hapless phone, then clicked it shut and stowed it away. “Stupid men,” she grumbled to herself.
Wouldn’t it be just like Jude or Denny to come charging to the restaurant, fists in the air, tempers crackling, when it probably wasn’t even the right guy?
But that menacing voice, and the implied threat…she shivered.
Striding back to the kitchen, she peeked out at the dining room floor. The men had just finished off their drinks, so she had to go check on them.
It couldn’t be this easy. She couldn’t have the source of all the trouble lounging at one of her tables. If he did turn out to be the same creep, she’d feel like a hero. Jude would be able to get rid of him and the threat. And then he could toss Tim out of his house, and with any luck at all, Jude and May would be able to form a lasting relationship.
May deserved that—and more.
Calculating her next move, Ash glanced at her watch. In another half hour, she’d have to clock out. It took her about twenty minutes to get to the office complex, and she had almost an hour between the end of one job and the start of the other. Surely she could figure out his identity by then.
If nothing else, he’d probably pay with a credit card. As long as she didn’t have to leave before he finished his meal…She prodded the chef. “Can you hurry it along a little?”
Temperamental in the extreme, but also a major flirt, he grinned shamelessly and said, “For you, Ashley-my-love, anything.” He added the caramelized shallot port wine butter to the last T-bone, arranged a stuffed tomato “just so” beside it, and put the last plate on the tray. “Here you go.”
The hefty tray weighed a ton, but practice had taught her to balance it with ease. The folding stand hooked over her arm, the tray in the air, Ashley made her way back to the table. She couldn’t deny her nervousness, or her anticipation. She just hoped she hadn’t stirred Denny up over nothing.