21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
T he brown bags overflowed with their contents and Judas struggled to pull his keys from his pocket. All the ingredients for a romantic Italian dinner balanced heavily on his hip as he finally slipped the key into the lock, turning the tumbler. Judas kicked the door shut when he felt the soft vibration of his phone in his back pocket.
"Khara," groaning, he quickly dropped the sacks on the bar but was able to answer the call before it went to his voicemail, "Hello?"
There was a short silence.
"Hey… Judas," the man's steady voice replied carefully, "Chet Branson."
Judas checked the caller ID for confirmation, "Mr. Branson, how are you, sir? Everything alright? I heard there was a family emergency. I hope everyone is well."
"Oh, yeah… everything is… fine," Chet confirmed. "Just… my daughter, Nevaeh is a little… under the weather. It'll all be fine."
Judas thought for a moment that the man sounded a little distant. Maybe the illness was more serious than he wanted to discuss or maybe everything was indeed fine. He didn't know Chet well enough to tell. From their brief interactions, he seemed to be most of what Paul was not; friendly, personable, and well-liked by others. "What can I help you with, sir?"
"I haven't been able to get in contact with Paul. I need to talk to him about a project he worked on. You wouldn't happen to know where he is?" Chet asked.
Judas grinned, "Oh, yeah. He's playing golf with some members of the state police board." He glanced at the antique clock hanging over the sofa, "Actually, he should be on his way home now."
His voice lightened, "Great! Okay. I appreciate that. What about Eliza? Would you happen to know where she is?"
Judas' voice caught in his throat. The mention of her name sent waves of eager anticipation through his body. He dreamed every moment of her being near him. But even when they were in the same room, she was never close enough.
‘Hopefully, already on her way here,’ was his thought, but, "I think she's in a meeting right now," came from his mouth.
Chet's voice was rushed, "So still at the office. Sounds good. Well, I can catch up with her tomorrow. I appreciate your help."
The line disconnected.
Dropping his phone on the countertop, Judas pulled pots out of cabinets and filled them with water and sauce. The apartment quickly warmed with the aroma of basil and garlic saturating the air as tomatoes bubbled gently on the flame. The text he received from Eliza five minutes prior said she just packed an overnight bag and would be on her way.
The way the phrase overnight bag sounded thrilled him. He would have her again, all night, to himself. He never thought she would accept when he made his offer of sanctuary so they could be alone last week. While sneaking around behind Paul's back made their relationship a little more exciting in the beginning, the feelings Judas was sure they had for each other couldn't be kept a secret forever.
He filled the boiling water with the pasta and cut the vegetables for a salad. Judas pulled ivory plates from the cabinet along with silverware and wine glasses, placing them on the small wooden table in the breakfast nook. Back to the boiling pasta to strain.
Judas poured himself a glass of wine and stared at his phone as he sat on a bar stool. He reviewed the schedule for the following week and answered emails from his security team. He realized he missed a text from Beau nearly an hour and a half prior saying that Paul sent him home from the country club. Judas could only roll his eyes and reply that he would be paid for his time anyway.
He mumbled under his breath, "Why have a bodyguard if you don't allow him to do his job?"
He finished his glass and started to pour another only to realize it had been nearly forty-five minutes since Eliza told him she was on her way. It was almost seven o'clock on a Thursday night and traffic was heavier than normal, but she certainly should have been here and parked by now. She wouldn't have to park on the street. Judas made sure of that and gave her the code to the parking garage under his building.
Judas picked up the phone to call her when it vibrated in his hand. Her beautiful name flashed on the screen like a beacon in the dark.
"Ahavah," he cooed, "Where are you—"
"Judas!" she screamed.
Her bellow was like an electric shock to his body. He was immediately ready for a fight, "Eliza! What's wrong?"
He heard her wails and they nearly brought him to his knees. He couldn't help but grab his keys and run to the door before he remembered the food on the stove. He raced back to the stove to shut off the burners as her crying intensified and he recognized the sounds of sirens in the background. He ran out of the apartment, skipping the elevators, and raced down the six flights of stairs; his feet barely hitting any ground.
With his phone still in his ear, his core crumbled as he continued to listen to her sobs.
"Baby… talk to me. What's going on? Where are you? Baby, you need to tell me where you are!" His feet echoed in the expanse of the parking garage as he charged for his car. He slid on the leather seats of his Audi and the engine roared to life. But where is he going? Before he put the car in drive, he tried again, "Eliza! Please…ahavah. Talk to me—"
She finally caught her breath and her voice was short like a drum staccato, "It's. Dad. He's. Been. Shot. Judas. Oh. God. Judas!"
The tires of the car squealed as Judas raced past the gate guard arm, "I'm on my way."