Seventeen #4
He seemed at ease with Maggie. His eyes were soft when he looked at her, and when he bent over her to show her how to hold the pool cue, the girls all did the aww in harmony.
I watched him get her a drink, let her feed him the cherry, and then give her the stem he had tied with his tongue.
Some comment was made, because Maggie flushed a very becoming shade of pink and Sam arched one eyebrow and smiled wickedly.
The howls of laughter from the table made everyone look.
I was ready to go. I slunk off toward the kitchen to see if there was any bottled water anywhere.
The music got louder as the night wore on, but it wasn’t quite as pounding on the second floor.
I found a sitting room between two bedrooms that was quiet and filled with back issues of Architectural Digest. I found one with a photo spread of Dane from seven years back and had a good laugh over his clothes, as well as his hair.
I took a picture of it with my phone and sent my boss a text message, asking him what had been going on with him in the early nineties. When my phone rang, I expected it.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?” he asked irritably.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I explained about what I was doing and where I was, and I was instantly sorry.
He was really not pleased with my decision to spend time with Sam, and wondered how I could be sitting in someone’s house pretending to be something I wasn’t.
I told him it was my life, and he promptly corrected me.
Since I spent more hours with him, at work, than anywhere else, it was technically his life, and as such he had a say in where and with whom I spent the remainder of my time.
“I just want to be with him,” I defended myself.
“Great. Are you?”
There was no argument for that.
“So is the partner’s home nice?” He was changing the subject. It was really decent of him.
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” I repeated, rolling my eyes. “It’s actually a little too nice.”
“Explain.”
“I think this might be one of Peter Armand’s designs.”
He snorted. “I very much doubt that someone your detective knows is living in an Armand house.”
“Exactly.”
“Go out front and take a picture and I’ll be able to tell you.”
“Okay. Call me back.”
“I will.” He yawned and hung up.
I went downstairs and out through the front door. When I was across the street, I lifted my phone to take a picture. I heard the squeal of tires as soon as I finished sending the shot to Dane.
There were two black Hummers, and they spilled out people into the street.
I walked backward as I watched the men take the stairs, kick open the front door, and pour inside.
The screams were audible all the way out to the street as the music abruptly cut off.
I heard firecrackers going off inside along with the lightning show.
I sank down behind the Lexus beside me and called 911.
I told the operator that I was at the home of a police detective, Dominic Kairov, and I was clear and concise as I gave the address and read her off both license plates from each Hummer.
They had left no one in either car, but there were keys in the one on the right, so I got in.
Almost to the second, I heard someone scream Dominic’s name.
No mistake about who they were there to see.
At least I was outside where I could help.
All I could think about was saving Sam, even though I hated him.
I hit the horn, and when three of the guys appeared at the bay window, I leaned out and waved.
I locked the doors, started the Hummer H1 wagon, and was expecting a ferocious burst of speed but got only a slow crawl.
Glass exploded around me as the windows were shot out and the car was strafed with bullets.
Luckily, nothing hit me, and as I picked up speed traveling down the slight hill, I heard the wail of sirens.
I managed to turn off the main road as a parade of police cars streaked by me.
I counted ten in all and continued on, taking every side street I could find.
Not that anyone was after me, but a bullet-riddled car would stand out.
And I wondered at myself that I was more mad than scared.
Flying lead should have been horrifying, but all I kept seeing, the thing that kept popping back into my head, was the way Sam had been looking at Maggie.
I wanted him to look at me that way out in public.
But honestly, I was fooling myself. Again.
And I understood why. I was head over heels in love with Sam Kage.
I couldn’t help it. My heart was his and that was all there was to it, and no amount of logic was going to change that fact.
Unfortunately, the same—so very obviously—could not be said for him.
He only adored me behind closed doors where no one else could see how he felt, and that was simply not sustainable.
I had to stand in the light with someone, and that could not be him.
His life wasn’t set up to accommodate a man.
I drove to his apartment, parked the Hummer, put the keys in the glove box, then went upstairs and grabbed my stuff because I didn’t want to come between him and the promise of his happily ever after.
He obviously found Maggie Dixon charming, and he deserved the chance to see where it would go without having to worry about me.
She was probably the reason he had insisted on going to Dominic’s party in the first place.
Sam wasn’t the type to do anything he didn’t want to, so going must have had more to do with her presence than anything else.
Lost in my thoughts, when I finally looked at my phone I realized I had twenty missed calls.
I hadn’t even heard the insistent ringing.
“Jory?” Sam said quickly, answering on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” I shivered, back out on the street, looking for a cab. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“No, I didn’t get hurt! Jesus Christ, what the hell were you doing with that fuckin’ stunt?”
“It got them out of the house, didn’t it?”
“Jory! Where the hell are you?”
“So you know, I parked the Hummer in front of your place, so you can send your guys to pick it up.”
“What the fuck are you—”
“You know, Sam, I don’t think we’re a good idea. I went up to your apartment and got my stuff and—”
“You what?”
“I think I made a mistake, and we both know you think you did.”
“I have no idea what you’re—”
“Watching you flirt with Maggie Dixon all night doesn’t top my list of fun things to do.”
“Jory! God, nobody makes me as crazy as you! I have no idea how you’ve lived this long!”
I grunted, waving down a cab that then stopped for me. Once I was in the back, I gave the driver my address before returning to my conversation with Sam.
“Jory!” he immediately yelled.
“Listen, I think maybe I should just let you get on with your life and—”
“Jory—Jory—”
But then there was a new voice, calmer voice, a little deeper. “Jory.”
“Yes?”
“Jory, this is Dom. Where are you, buddy?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Where are you?”
“Was anybody hurt?”
“Jory, you—”
“I called the police for you.”
“I know you did, buddy, and I—we all appreciate it, but—”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Jory…listen…you’re in shock, aren’t ya?”
“What? Why?”
He sighed deeply. “Jory, you saved all our lives. God knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t done what you did.
But you got them away from everybody and…
and shit. First, you called for backup like a fuckin’ pro and got every single one of those fuckers arrested.
That was amazing, and you…you need to let Sammy and me come get you so we can get you back to his place. ”
“I don’t think that’s gonna work.”
“Why not?”
“It just won’t.”
“Well then, we’ll put you in a safe house where—”
“No. None of that works for me.”
“You can’t run, Jory, we need—”
“I’m not going anywhere, you know that. I have always said I would testify, and I will keep to that promise. I just—oh, sorry, I gotta let you go, I’m getting a call from Dane.”
“No, no, wait, I—”
But I hung up on him and answered the call from my boss. “Hey.”
“That is an Armand house. How in the world does someone on a policeman’s sal—”
“I can’t talk now.”
“Why not?”
“I’m kind of in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“You’d never believe me.”
“Oh, I’m sure I would believe you. Are you still at the detective’s friend’s house?”
“No.”
“Then where are you?”
“I’m on my way home.”
“And where were you? Tell me.”
So I explained about the Hummer and the bullets in it and how I had been driving it around before I left it at Sam’s. When I finished there was only silence on his end. “Dane?”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m at the Valentine Lounge downtown. I want you here in twenty minutes.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Boss—”
“Dane,” he corrected me.
“Oh, yeah.” I nodded to myself. I was a bit out of it. “Sorry.”
“Jory, I want you here.”
“But I’m on my way home.”
“No.” He took a breath. “Get here now.”
“It was crazy before. You should’ve seen the guns and—”
“Was it?” he said flatly. “Crazy?”
“Yeah.” I sighed because I was crashing, the adrenaline just draining from my body, and his voice on the other end of the line sounded like home for some reason. I was delirious.
“Listen, Jory,” he said, letting out a deep breath, “I need to talk to you about something, so you must come see me. Don’t make me wait.”
I turned my phone all the way off so Sam couldn’t find me, and changed my directions to the driver. I wondered vaguely when my life was going to even out. Any time now would be good.
I went to meet Dane at the Valentine Lounge with my duffel in hand. It was a very chic cocktail lounge that played mostly bossa nova, very martini-with-an-olive kind of place. I left my bag with the hostess.