Adieu to Destiny (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Book 4) Page 9

  Kenna wasn’t off the hook until I had the facts. She had better pray I determined she wasn’t involved in tonight’s plot masterminded by my ex-cousin. If Kenna was involved, being on Santa’s Christmas shit list was nothing compared to being on mine.

  I was mainly mad at myself for not suspecting the un-cousin sooner. The Kenyon bar threw me since my ex-relative wasn’t much of a drinker, so my mind had gone off in the male direction when Kenna mentioned “her friend”.

  “The good news, we know you don’t have a leak in your operation from someone you’ve trusted. The bad news, we know there is a random person out there that has seen you and Tre J, and overheard you talking about Gus Wilson. They snitched you out, and now the dude’s dead. We’ll have to think about this problem at greater length.”

  ‘I had to think about this problem at greater length, and I needed Jazy and Tre out of the picture.’

  Jaz was lost in her thoughts, as well. “What if the person followed us tonight? If Gus’s death is on the news, what’s to stop them from anonymously calling the police? Maybe they don’t know our names, but what if they took a picture or video with their phone? Jesus, at a minimum, they could give a detailed description.” Jazy laughed shortly, without mirth. “Tre’s not your run of the mill Minnesota girl.”

  “You’re right, this could get tricky,” I agreed, but shrugged a shoulder. “However, the facts are the farmer’s death was his own fault and an accident. There’s no evidence to tie you to his death, and the horse is gone. Call Tre to be sure, but I can’t believe she’d allow herself to be followed.” I paused, thinking it over. “Also, the person didn’t call the police earlier, but called the farmer. Doesn’t that mean they are vindictive, and not a concerned citizen? They chose to set this in motion and they did not want the police involved, either.”

  Nodding as my words sank in, Jazy sucked her bottom lip and she searched my face with narrowed, calculating eyes. It had been a long time since we were little kids, but the combination of anxiety and determination in that expression reminded me of the countless times we’d faced trouble together. She had been such a cute kid with her brown curls, round face, big eyes, and dauntless courage. Now she was a grown woman and her attitude was bigger than ever.

  I touched my sister’s arm. “Do you trust me, Jazy? I mean, really trust me, as in putting your life in my hands?”

  “You know I do.”

  I smiled. “I hoped you did, but you have to give me proof of that trust.”

  She demanded, “How?”

  “By letting me take care of this problem.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “Oh well, I work on a need to know basis. And you, my dear little sister, do not need to know.”

  Was it smug of me to throw her own line back in Jazy’s face?

  I thought so, too, but it was worth it to see her worried expression vanish when she chuckled.

  I continued, “Here’s the deal. I have an idea how to fix this without anybody getting in trouble. If all goes well, I will report back to you by tomorrow evening and explain more.”

  “What will I owe you in return?”

  I nodded in approval. That was what I meant about Jazy being a great girl to have at your back. You can’t train that kind of vigilant distrust; it has to come from within.

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll need a favor someday,” I answered vaguely and hid my smile at Jazy’s loud groan.

  She didn’t argue, though. She let out a huge sigh of relief and flopped back against her seat. “I guess I can live with that.” Jazy held up a fist and we bumped. “Deal.”

  “And Tre?”

  She texted Tre and we waited. A second later, she held up her phone. Deal

  I unplugged my phone from Jazy’s charger. “I need that throwaway cell phone you have.” Jazy was texting on her phone, so she tossed me her purse. “Side pocket.”

  I found the phone and Mr. China’s card. I slipped both into my purse and said, “I’m going up to shower off the dog pee. See you in an hour or so?”

  She nodded, but glanced over and motioned to my bare legs. “You have no pants on.” Her eyebrows rose. “Should I be scared you’re handling my problem?”

  I giggled. “Not acceptable attire for a businesswoman role model, huh? Hey, you’re going straight home to change. Can I have your leggings?”

  “Sure, I’m happy to return your favor--and so soon.” Jazy’s dimples flashed when I groaned loudly this time. She unzipped her jacket and lifted her butt off the seat. “Hey, there’s Chief Jack. Do you suppose he’s coming to arrest us already?”

  “Crap!” I swore, ducking instinctively. “I must have conjured him up.”

  Jazy’s laughter was almost a giggle as she worked off her black leggings and passed them to me. Picking up her phone, she said, “He can’t see us through the tint on these windows.”

  “With those shark eyes? Don’t be too sure,” I whispered while I slipped the stretchy pants up and peered over the dashboard to watch Jack enter the bookstore lobby. “I haven’t seen Jack all week. I wonder why he’s here tonight?”

  “Yeah, he seemed pretty pissed you turned Luke’s proposal down,” Jazy commented off-handedly, not looking up from her phone when she added, “Although, I don’t get why he was so surprised, or why he’d be mad. It’s not like you kicked Luke to the curb, which I would have bet good money on if anybody had asked.” She smirked. “Not that anybody did ask. Hell, I couldn’t even get any bets going while we waited to hear your answer. Not even Stella or Anna would take me up, and they worship the ground Drake walks on.”

  “Jack worries my eggs are getting old,” I muttered, my mind racing back to Luke laughing and calling me dense when I worried our families would think he was a big dick.

  She glanced up in surprise. “What? Sick!”

  “I know, right?” I tilted my head. “What do you mean about the bets?”

  Jazy blinked blankly at me, as if puzzled by the question. “Uh…I meant nobody believed you’d say yes. It’s not exactly a state secret you’re a total commitment-phobe, Bel.” When I didn’t reply, she rushed on, “It’s not like that’s a bad thing.” She brightened. “Think of a pretty butterfly, flying from flower to flower, sipping here and sipping there, but never landing for long. Men want to capture you and pin your wings, but you always manage to fly north.”

  I stared at my sister. “South, Jazy. I always manage to fly south. All the same, that was damn poetic.”

  Entering the empty lobby of Bel’s Books a moment later, I thought that it was also poetic justice. After all, I had once compared Jazy to a busy honeybee in a field of man-clover, so I could hardly be offended she saw me in the same shallow terms. Not that I wanted to do any slut-shaming, but Jazy was a bonafide she-manwhore, whereas I had been made a sexual legend in my own time based on rumor and conjecture. Much like with the projectile vomiting, I had been given the front seat I didn’t deserve, but the result was not nearly as comfortable.

  Sighing loudly, I missed Luke so much, it was a physical ache.

  I punched the security code and shoved my key in the deadbolt lock of my apartment door.

  ‘Luke was right; I could be incredibly dense.’

  My family and closest friends believed I was a flighty, flitting insect, incapable of deeper feelings and intimacy with one man. None of them ever expected me to say yes to Luke’s proposal. It was lowering to comprehend that the majority of the protests in Mac’s kitchen were about me being a shallow bitch to Luke, and not him being a dick.

  It was annoying that the person who got the real me was a man that I’ve known for only three months, and the people who have loved me all my life didn’t have the first clue.

  ‘Unless that is the real you,’ pointed out the detective voice.

  “Oh, great. Just what I need, another mean mommy!” I said in disgust.

  The security panel blinked green, the locked clicked open, and I kicked the steel door open.

  “Hello
to you, too.”

  I spun around at the sound of Jack Banner’s voice. I had hoped to avoid Jack, assuming he had gone into the store to get a coffee and a cookie. “Where did you come from?”

  Hand to his heart in mock wonder, he asked sarcastically, “Oh, that wasn’t me that you were calling mean…mommy, was it?”

  “Hey, if the shoe fits…” I retorted sweetly, eyeing him up and down.

  Jack had on off-duty clothes--a Vikings baseball hat, jeans, and a casual leather jacket. His face was careworn, but he was a good-looking man that emitted an aura of tough strength. It was putting it mildly to say Jack rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t trust him like I used to since he’d done everything in his power to keep me out of the cop loop, but I still had a special fondness for the big butthead. He was one of the top three men in my life I’d call in an emergency.

  He eyed me in return. “Talking about shoes, when did your skin start looking like brown leather? And when did you start talking to yourself in public?” He inspected my hair closer, but reared back and waved a hand in front of his nose. “You stink, She-Devil. Is your hair going white? What the hell?”

  I shook my head. “What can I say, Jack. It’s old age. I am falling apart before your very eyes.”

  Jack’s lips twisted, but he made no comment as he continued to inspect me with a slight frown. He stood straight with arms crossed, feet planted, and legs slightly spread. It was an aggressive posture, but second nature to Jack, so I didn’t take it personally. I also didn’t fidget as the silence grew longer. I’ve seen Chief Jack in action for most my life; it took a lot more than one of his squinty-eyed stares to rattle me.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Out for a run.” That wasn’t a lie.

  “What did you do--piss your pants?”

  I didn’t answer, but raised my brows and Jack quickly waved his hand again. “Never mind, never mind. That’s not what I came to say. Listen, about this marriage crap between you and Drake…”

  A customer came into the lobby from the bookstore and I waved while Jack nodded politely.

  He took off his cap and ran a hand through his short, silver-blonde hair. He waited to speak until the customer was out the front door and we were alone again. I may not be nervous, but like ninety percent of the male population when confronting a woman on an emotional issue, the Chief was skittish as hell.

  “Help me understand, Junior, because I’m not getting it here. Was I reading the signals wrong when I thought you and Drake had something good going on?”

  Jack’s tone was a little aggrieved, but I could tell he was sincerely mystified, so I was gentle in return. “You did read the signals right, and we do have something good going on.”

  His white brows met. “Then why did you turn down his marriage proposal and humiliate him in public?”

  “I didn’t publically humiliate him, and I don’t believe in marriage.” I shrugged carelessly. “What a hassle. Besides, I’ve got a good thing going here. I’ve got my own money and my own place. Why should I muck it up for a man?”

  I felt bad for my flippant act. Jack and I may not agree on much in life, but we shared a sense of humor and have always had a bond. He was a hard, gruff, opinionated, conservative, chauvinistic good ol’ boy with his own brand of honor. He’d been a steady fixture of male stability in my life that I begrudgingly appreciated and took for granted.

  “You said it.” Jack snorted in disbelief. “Luke’s a real man, Junior, and you aren’t going to find another one like him anytime soon.” He stabbed a finger in the air. “He will not tolerate your liberal female ‘I make my own money’ bullshit. A man like Drake wants a nice armful of woman that will commit, make a home, and be honored to raise a family. If you don’t give it to him, some other broad will.”

  If fate hadn’t intervened, Jack would probably be beaming at me right now for finally making a traditional decision he could approve of with gusto, although the way he described marriage made my nightmare sound like a walk in the park. Instead, the black thundercloud that seemed to follow the cranky cop everywhere was beginning to gain momentum and swirl around his head.

  Luckily, I’ve always enjoyed a good storm. “Geez Louise, Jack, sounds like somebody’s crushing. Why don’t you go marry Luke Drake yourself, if you believe he’s so all that?”

  Jack slammed his baseball cap back on his head. “And to think, Miss Mouthy, I actually had a man to man talk with Luke about how he should treat you.”

  I remembered that little pep talk I’d overheard and smiled. “And I’d be more than happy to have a woman to wife talk with you on how Luke likes to be treated. He has this ticklish spot under his…”

  “For Christ’s sake, there’s no talking sense to you,” Jack cursed, stomping towards the street doors. He growled over his shoulder, “This conversation is over!”

  “Hey, Chief Luke-Lover,” I called out, leaning against my apartment door. “I’ve got news for you. This was not a conversation.”

  As if he’d walked into a brick wall, Jack stopped. Fists on hips, he turned to face me and demanded slowly, “What did you just call me?”

  Eyes wide, I put a hand to my chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. In your happy home, will you prefer Mrs. Drake?”

  He looked around to be sure there were no witnesses. “My hand will show your ass what I prefer, you little…!”

  I was on the other side of my apartment door in two seconds flat.

  ‘He sure can run fast for a middle-aged man,’ the accountant voice breathed admiringly.

  He was fast for a meddling, derogatory, patronizing, asshead, but not fast enough.

  I called out over the fist pounding on my locked and barred steel door. “You’d better start talking sense by tomorrow night, Jackass Banner, or no company meatloaf for you!”

  I laughed and ran up the stairs to get ready to go out.

  Chapter VII

  “Burn it to the Ground” by Nickelback

  Saturday, 12/15

  9:40 PM

  Jazy drove into the crowded parking lot of the new bar, Brisbane’s. She informed me it was named after the owner, Jackson Brisbane.

  “I’ve met Jackson once at a party at James’ house. Nice guy. He’s kind of a cross between cute and weird looking. I kept changing my mind, since he has a lot of teeth, you know? But he’s funny as hell and grows on you.” She smiled, her mood much improved in anticipation of a night out and some dancing. “You’ll like Jack.”

  “Doubt it. Not with that name.”

  Jazy laughed. “Hey, I’ve been telling you for years, Jack Banner is a perv. He wants to spank you--bad.”

  “Whew! I’m glad it’s because he’s a perv. I was getting a complex that I was a smart ass or something.”

  Jazy and I snickered a few seconds.

  “It is strange that he’s still single.” She mused, “You don’t suppose Chief Jack secretly prefers cock, do you?”

  I choked on my laughter, as I shook my head. “I don’t believe so, but maybe we should find out.”

  Jazy shot me a quick glance. “What are you thinking?”

  What I was thinking was that I didn’t know much of Jack’s past personal history. That was an oversight that should be corrected. I had no hard data to back me up, but I sensed somewhere under that macho exterior lurked a romantic heart. Maybe Jack remained single because he hadn’t found the woman of his dreams, or if he had, he’d lost his love back in the day when women revolted against their submissive roles in a chauvinistic male dominated society.

  I’ve never understood why feminists chose the symbolism of burning their bras in protest. Logic dictates it wasn’t the best in-your-face choice for females to rebel against their male counterparts--not if they wanted women’s rights to be taken seriously.

  I could only imagine men privately sniggering while publically throwing their hands up and saying, “Women, please, whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not show us your tits!”

  Didn’t freeing the
ta-tas actually encourage the stereotypical image that women used their sex, instead of their brains, to prick tease the boob-obsessed male population? Even though it pained me to say, had I been leading the women’s movement back then, I would have suggested Doc Martins for all. Any female voluntarily wearing that footwear showed they meant serious business. If men still doubted, women could stomp on them, and the glass ceiling, and take their jobs to prove it.

  “I’m thinking Jack Banner has been there for us all our lives. Isn’t it time we paid him back? We should help him find a good woman.”

  “That would be a good payback,” Jazy agreed solemnly. “Are you thinking it should be a woman that schedules all his free time, knows how to cook a mean hotdish, and is still young enough to pump out a few kids before it completely destroys her va-jay-jay?”

  I nodded solemnly back. “Oh yes, but in a pinch, we could settle for two out of three.”

  “Okay, you take care of my problem, and I’ll start working on Jack’s.” She zoomed around a group of people heading into the bar. “I’ll email NanaBel and ask her about his past loves.”

  “Nice.” Thinking of NanaBel’s last email again, I said, “She loves talking about the good old days lately.”

  Jazy nodded. “Yeah, I noticed she’s been more serious, too. I wonder if she feels death breathing down her neck?”

  “Jazy! You can’t even think such a thing!” Aghast, I looked around frantically. “Quick, knock on wood!”

  “I was just saying…I didn’t mean anything,” Jazy assured me and quickly looked around. She settled for rapping on the wood insert on her dash.

  I rapped her head with my knuckles, as an extra added precaution. “We can never give Death ideas.”

  My sister waved her arm. “I know, I know…what was I thinking? Hurry, let’s talk about something funny again like getting Jack hooked up.”