Services Rendered

The Burned Hand

Chapter Eleven

Things didn’t come easy. It had been so long since either one invested in their marriage, that for the first couple weeks it was a bit like learning to relate to a stranger. Amy was alarmed. She’d fully expected the awkwardness between them to vanish as soon as they started putting forth the effort. The reality, though, was that both of them had to rediscover each other and why they fell in love in the first place.

They started simple. Each vowed to cut back their hours at work and be home by six where they would make dinner. Pretty soon, this became a nightly ritual and one of their favorite parts of the day. Amy especially liked it when Tom would come up behind her when she was cutting vegetables or washing a dish and wrap his arms around her. She’d lean into him and close her eyes, reveling in the feel of his hot breath on the back of her neck.

Over the next few weeks, things just kind of fell into place on their own. They delegated one night a week as date night. No friends, no cell phones, just the two of them and whatever adventure they chose to share together. Sometimes it was dinner and a movie, sometimes they just stayed home and ordered in with the television off. The point was they do it together.

With the added intimacy of a stolen kiss or a quick caress throughout the day, it was only natural that their s*x life improve as well. They weren’t like newlyweds, ravaging each other from dusk till dawn. But when they were together, it was more sensual and pleasurable than it had been in a long time.

And that wasn’t the only thing that improved. Her first week back at work, she called Monica into her office for an official sit-down. She’d been hoping to avoid this, praying the young woman would find her stride and the complaints against her would taper off. But, if anything, it seemed as if while Amy’s attention was divided her secretary had only gotten worse.

“You wanted something?” Monica said from the doorway, clearly put out that she had had to walk the four feet from her desk.

“Yes. Please, come in.” Amy pretended not to notice the poorly concealed eye roll as the young woman entered and plopped down in the chair across from her. She really was very pretty. Mid-twenties, stylish red hair with a thin figure and breasts that strained against the fabric of her blouse. It was a shame her demeanor was so poor.

“Monica, we’ve had more complaints about your treatment of our clients,” Amy began. This time there was no mistaking the way her secretary rolled her eyes and uttered a heavy sigh of exasperation. “I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” she said sharply. Monica blinked in surprise then sat up a little straighter.

“No, I just…I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Just listen. Today, one of our most prestigious clients, a man I’ve worked with for over six years, threatened to take his business elsewhere because you treated him in a rude and disrespectful manner. I had to offer him a significant discount on our services in order to entice him to stay.”

“You mean that old geezer who…”

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Amy cut her off. A part of her reveled in the way the usually complacent young woman squirmed in her chair, clearly off balance by this sudden rebuke. “All that matters is that yours is the first voice our clients hear and the first face they see when they walk in. And from now on, that face had damn well be nothing but smiles and that voice dripping with so much courtesy I can soak my waffles in it. Anything less, and you’re done here. You’ve been warned. You’ve been talked to. It stops here. Is any part of that unclear?”

“No, Ma’am.” Monica kept her eyes lowered and her whole body language was that of a person who was defeated.

“Good.” Amy’s tone softened. “Monica, you and I are going to be working together for the foreseeable future. I’d like for our relationship to change to something at least a little more amicable. I’m willing to put this behind us and move on, if you are.”

A flicker of a smile ghosted the young woman’s face. “I’d like that. I apologize for my behavior. It’s just, working as a secretary is not exactly what I had in mind for a career when I left home.”

Now it all made sense. Back where she came from, it was easy to see that Monica was the prettiest girl in town. Probably prom queen, dated the quarterback and all that. So, when she moved out to the city, thinking to skate by on those good looks of hers, she realized quick and in a hurry that her beauty no longer separated her from the general populace. Big boobs and a shapely face was only a phone call away to the right plastic surgeon. And her dreams of scoring a modeling contract or bagging a rich husband went up in smoke and she was forced to fend for herself.

A part of Amy sympathized with the young woman’s naivete and the harsh way her eyes had been opened to the world. Another part of her marveled at how she had just spoken to her. Normally, she would have left that kind of thing up to H.R. Maybe her time with Collin had done her more good than just her marriage.

“I understand,” Amy said. “But you’re here now and this really is a fine place to work if you just give it a chance. What do you say?”

Monica nodded and a little color that had drained away came back to her cheeks. “Yes, Mrs. Parsons. I will. Thank you.”

Things with her secretary did improve, and after a few weeks, things finally seemed to be on the right track with Tom, as well. Occasionally, a pang of guilt would assail Amy, a reminder of the things she had done with Collin and the trust she had broken with Tom. She never made any excuses, even to herself. She accepted the blame as her cross to bear, maybe shed a tear or two, but always recovered before her husband could notice.

One Friday afternoon, Amy was in a particularly good mood. It was date night and she was thinking about cutting work early to go home and prepare something special for him. Maybe she would try wearing that negligee again, the once from their previous disastrous encounter. She had no doubt events would unfold differently this time.

A buzzing on her intercom broke her out of her reverie. “Yes?” she said, slightly annoyed at the intrusion.

“Mrs. Parsons, there’s someone here to see you.”

Amy frowned. “I wasn’t aware I had any afternoon appointments.”

“No. This is someone from the police department. Says she needs to speak with you urgently.”

Urgently. That was never good. Being stocked with lawyers, it wasn’t uncommon for police officers to be in and out of the building, but this was the first time one had deigned to call on her. Estate settlement rarely required the services of law enforcement. What could it be about?

“Send her in.” A second later her door opened and in stepped a woman, well past middle-age, with tired eyes and short, dark hair. She had a tight mouth that looked like it’d never seen the sunny side of a smile, and a trim physique in a serviceable business suit. She wore a badge and gun clipped to her belt on the right side and her eyes darted around the room instinctively as she entered.

“Mrs. Parsons, I’m Detective Renee Larou. I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice.” She didn’t look appreciative. In fact, she looked pissed off just being in the same room with Amy.

She put on her ‘lawyer face’. That special mask she kept in her pocket at all times, ready to don on a moment's notice to mask any true feelings or reactions that might give an advantage to her opponent, which is what she sensed this detective was about to become.

“How can I help you, Detective?” Always use their titles until things get friendly enough to switch to a first name basis. Makes them feel important.

The older woman pulled out a series of seven black and white photographs and laid them on the desk. “Do you know any of these men?”

They were candid shots, obviously from quite a distance away but startling in their clarity. Someone knew how to work a lens.

Amy gazed at the pictures for a moment, passing from one to the next with mild indifference. Five of them were complete strangers, all of them hunks and absurdly good looking. The last two though, if she hadn’t been wearing her lawyer face would, were very familiar. Roger Cavanough and Collin looked out at her in all their glory. If she hadn’t had her lawyer face on she’d have revealed herself right then and there.

“What’s all this about, Detective?” she asked carefully. It was always best not to lie if you could help it. Answering a question with a question was a good way to steer the conversation away form any direct statement that could be filed away and used against you later.

“We believe these men to be involved in a number of criminal enterprises,” she said. Then, “Do you recognize any of them?” Apparently Detective Larou was not the kind to be so easily sidestepped.

“I’m not sure. The quality on some of these makes it hard to make out.” The quality was fine. Crystal clear, actually. But she’d be damned if she was going to make any kind of admission at this point. “May I ask why you think I would know them?”

Amy’s heart was beating fast and her palms had a thin sheen of sweat on them, but her voice was cool and collected. Play the game, she told herself. If she had any definitive proof she’d have it on the table instead of some photographs that could belong to anybody.

Larou sighed as if this was the answer she’d expected all along and sank down in the chair across from Amy. “Because we believe you may have had dealings with one or more of them. Particularly that one.” She pointed to the picture of Collin.

“And why would you think that?” Amy leaned back and clasped her hands in her lap with a shadow of a smile playing on her face. A show of confidence.

Larou leaned forward. “Because I saw you with him.” There, that was the bomb she’d been waiting to drop. Amy recognized the tone of it descending and exploding all around her. She’d used it herself whenever she had some kind of huge revelation to make among relatives squabbling over a big inheritance.

Too bad Larou’s bomb was a dud.

“And I suppose you have photographic evidence of this meeting with shady characters?” Amy asked mildly. Larou might as well have been a statue. “Any evidence at all?” Still no response. “Well, there you are Detective. I’m afraid I have no recollection at all of meeting with any of the people you allege. I meet with so many in the course of my work that it’s hard to keep up sometimes. Still, if I remember anything I’ll be sure to let you know. Was there anything else?”

There wasn’t. She felt the cold anger rolling off Larou at having been stonewalled so completely. If she hadn’t been wearing her lawyer face, Amy might have even smiled. Of course, if she hadn’t been wearing her lawyer face she would probably have been a nervous wreck and hardly in a position to deny anything.

Larou stood up without saying a word, gathered her pictures and didn’t quite stalk towards the door. Before leaving, she turned around and said, “Word of advice. None of those men are innocent little lambs. Some of them are wolves in sheep's clothing. And all of them have teeth.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Detective,” Amy said stoically. She waited a good ten seconds after Larou left before dropping the act and slumping with exhaustion in her chair. Her heart was beating furiously and a thin sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead.

She couldn’t believe it. The police were investigating her, her and Collin. She had to call him, let him know. But how could she get in touch with him? She’d thrown out the burn phone she’d used during their time together. Maybe she should call Roger Cavanough and let him know.

No, that would be foolish. If Larou was smart, she might expect Amy to get in touch with him or one of the others. And Larou seemed very very smart. She’d probably be watching Amy closely to see if she did just that. And if she did, she could kiss her plausible deniability out the window.

No, better to just let things ride out. Larou had taken her best shot and missed. She'd probably tackle another angle to get to Cavanough. She just hope Collin didn't go down with him.

On impulse, she picked up the phone and dialed Julie's number.

"Hey, think you can meet for coffee?" Amy asked without preamble.

Julie paused at the urgent tone in her friend's voice then said, "Sure. Ten minutes at the café?"

"Great. See you then." Amy hurriedly signed off her computer, gathered her things and walked out the door, leaving the stigma of Detective Larou behind.

Chapter Twelve

"Okay Girl, spill it."

Amy looked over the brim of her cup. "Excuse me?"

"This is the first time you haven't blown me off in a month. And every time you do, it's because you and Tom have plans, which I think is great, by the way. But it doesn’t exactly jive with what you were saying last time we got up. So, I'll say it again. Spill."

Amy shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion and stirred her coffee. "We've just been spending a lot of time together lately. Cooking dinner is a nightly ritual of ours now, instead of just grabbing something on the way home after a late night at work. Next week, he's even taking me to a bed and breakfast. He doesn't think I know, but I found the receipt so I have to act surprised. Things are great."

Julie nodded in appreciation. "Wow. That's great. Mind if I asked what triggered such a romantic renaissance?"

"Sometimes all it takes is a little perspective," she said coyly, stressing that last word. Jenny's eyes grew big as dinner plates.

"Oh my God! You did it, didn't you? You called Roger!"

"Shhhh! Keep your voice down."

"You did!" Julie said like a delighted school girl who suddenly found out her best friend had gone all the way for the first time. "What was it like? Did he set you up with Blake? It was Blake, wasn't it?"

"No. His name was Collin."

"Oooooo. Collin. Sounds sexy. Tell me everything." Maybe it was the stress of keeping such a huge secret for so long. Maybe it was Larou's lingering influence to confess everything. But right at that moment, Amy wanted nothing more than to tell her best friend everything. So she did. She left nothing out. By the time she stopped, more than an hour had passed and Julie sat back in her chair looking stunned and slightly impressed.

"Wow. Seems like you had a pretty wild time," she said at last.

"Oh, I did. I really did." Amy felt ten pounds lighter at having finally shared this. She regretted not having done it sooner. "And things between me and Tom have really turned around."

"So what's the problem? Oh, come on," Julie laughed at seeing her friend's surprised expression. "You call me up out of the blue for coffee, you regale me with s****l exploits that would make a porn star blush and you do it while sounding like you're going to a funeral. What gives? Having regrets?"

"Well, yes," Amy admitted, "but not the kind you think. I regret that I let my marriage get so bad I had to go outside of it to find a little passion. I regret not laying down the law to Tom sooner, instead of wasting my days and nights wondering if he still loved me."

Julie leaned close. "You're not thinking about telling him, are you?" she said in little above a whisper.

"God, no. I would never. I promised myself when it was all over that it would be my cross to bear. My burden. I wouldn't dream of throwing it at Tom's feet and leaving him to decide whether or not to make our marriage work."

Julie heaved a sigh and sat back. "So what is it?"

Amy paused while she thought of the right words. "How…discreet would you say Roger Cavanough is?"

"What do you mean?"

"How good is his operation? How does he get away with doing what he does without being noticed?"

"Oh, that." Julie thought for a second. "I guess because he's not exactly Al Capone. He brokers contracts with willing adults and collects the money. That sort of thing." Her eyes narrowed. "Why? Did something happen?"

Briefly, Amy related her experience with Larou. "She's really got it in for this guy. And I have a feeling anyone associated with him is likely to get caught in the crossfire."

"You're afraid if he goes down he might implicate you and any other customers to cut a deal," Julie said in understanding.

"It wouldn't be the first time deals like that have been cut."

Julie considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "I wouldn't worry about it?"

"Why's that?"

She held up a finger. "One; he's got no proof. No paperwork. No signed contract. Nothing to link you to his business affairs. He could say anyone was a customer of his, but without the evidence to back it up, he's just pissing in the wind." Amy thought about it and agreed it made sense. "Two; even if they get him, why would they go after you? Or any of his customers for that matter? As far as I know, he's the main man. The head shark. If they land him, why spend the resources tracking down a couple of minnows?" Another good point, Amy conceited. "And three; they're not going to get him."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "You sure about that?"

"Positive," Julie responded. "You think I didn't do my research before getting down and dirty with Blake? Cavanough's been at this a long time. He's probably catered to hundreds of women here in the city, some of them with very important positions. And, as far as I can tell, he's never gotten so much as a parking ticket. Every once in a while some crusading detective will come along and put him in the crosshairs, but they move on to greener pastures when they realize they can't touch him."

"And you think Larou is one of these fly-by-night crusaders?"

Julie shrugged. "What else could she be?"

"She's sharp, Julie. And she doesn't strike me as the type to give up easily."

"She can be a bulldog with a bone," Julie said, taking a sup of her coffee. "It's not going to get her anywhere. Look, I would never have turned you on to Roger Cavanough if I wasn't one hundred percent certain it wasn't safe. So relax. You got what you needed. Things between you and Tom are the picture of paradise. And this Larou b***h can go suck an egg."

Amy had to admit it sounded good. She trusted Julie, and right then she was saying all the things she needed to hear. "Okay," she said, somewhat relieved. "Thanks."

Her friend smiled. "No problem. Now, tell me more about," she sighed dreamily, "Collin."

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On the way home, more at ease since her conversation with Julie, Amy had time to reflect on everything that had been said. Everything Julie had said made sense. Larou didn't have anything definite. She had come to Amy's office on a fishing trip and had left empty handed. And even if she did manage to nail Roger Cavanough, which was unlikely, there was no reason why she should come after her. She was safe.

On another note, all that talk about Collin had turned her mind to him once again. She had done her best to keep his memory at bay, only turning to it in her most private moments. As things with her and Tom continued to improve, those moments had become more and more infrequent, something she was thankful for.

She wasn't proud of what she had done. She knew that most other women wouldn't approve. But her marriage was better than it had been in several years and that alone made any guilt she might have felt worth it. She hoped Collin was doing well and wished him nothing but the best, but their time together was over and it she just wanted to get on with her life.

Those were the things that were going through her mind when she got home and saw Toms SUV already in the driveway. It was covered in suds and water. He loves washing that old thing, Amy thought with fondness. But her heart froze in her chest when she saw the man on the other side straighten up from scrubbing the tires. It wasn't her husband. It was Collin!   

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

This couldn't be happening! What was he doing here? Had he been talking to Tom? What had he said? She sat in her car, frozen for several seconds before Collin looked up and their eyes met. There was no mistaking those brilliant irises. She had looked into them so many times as pleasure rippled through her body during the two weeks they were together. She had never expected to see it again. The fact that she would run into it here, mere feet from her own front door, had never entered into her wildest dream.

Tom was inside. Casting a quick glance to make sure he wasn't peering out the window, Amy got out and marched up to the man washing her husband's car.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, although it wasn't necessary to lower her voice.

"Washing cars," he said innocently. His casual, flippant tone, that she had once thought so charming, now served to further her agitation.

"You know what I mean. This is my home. How dare you come here! What did you say to my husband? Answer me!"

Collin held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "Whoa. Take it easy, will ya? Look, I had no idea this was your home. I've been going around the neighborhood washing cars all day. Just ask your neighbors."

Amy remembered seeing several freshly gleaming cars out in the driveways of several homes on her street. "Why?" she asked, still suspicious. "Don't you make enough money….you know, working for Roger?"

For the first time since she'd known him, he looked embarrassed. "Well, yeah," he said, wringing the rag out and laying it on the side to dry. "But I don't want to work for Rodge forever, even though it certainly has it's perks." The corner of his mouth twitched up in a ghost of a smile that had Amy uncomfortably warm. "I want to be my own boss one day. Maybe have my own chain of car detailing shops. I figured this was a good way to develop a customer base."

It sounded reasonable, but Amy still couldn't stifle the feeling that something was wrong. "So…you haven't said anything to Tom?" she clarified.

Collin shook his head. "All I did was give him my card and tell him to keep me in mind if he ever wants his car detailed. That's it, I swear. Like I said, I had no idea you even lived here until you pulled up. I'm really sorry."

Amy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The pounding in her chest subsided a little and she felt light headed.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I overreacted. It's just…coming home and seeing you here was quite a shock." She managed a shaky smile which Collin amplified and returned.

"Tell me about it. Nothing like this has ever happened before. I've seen a few former clients just in passing, but they were usually with their significant others and we never spoke. Speaking of which," an edge of awkwardness eased back into his voice, "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to Rodge. He has strict rules about interacting with patrons outside of the terms of our contract. It could get me into a lot of trouble."

Amy hadn't thought she would ever speak to Roger Cavanough again, but she nodded her head in understanding anyway. "My lips are sealed." She glanced at Tom's SUV which was now sparkling like new in the afternoon sun. "You do good work, by the way."

"Thanks. I pride myself on customer satisfaction." The undertones were clear and they both looked intently at each other for a moment. Collin broke the silence. "Well, I better go. Tell your husband no charge. It doesn't seem right to take his money after…well, you know."

Amy did know, and she thought it was extremely decent if a little awkward. She'd known this man as intimately as a woman could know a man in two weeks, but she'd obviously overlooked his high morals. A part of her now wished she'd spent more time getting to know him personally and less time knowing him carnally.

No. She pushed those thoughts away. There was a reason why she did what she did. She wanted passion. She wanted to be lusted after and made to feel like the sexiest woman on earth. Then, she wanted to go back to her husband and make their marriage work. Collin had done his job, better than she could have possibly dreamed. Exploring the man and not the s*x object would only have complicated things.

On a whim, after checking to make sure Tom wasn't watching, she leaned forward and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "Thank you," Amy said. "For everything."

Collin opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly at a loss for words. Another first, she thought. "You're welcome," he said at last.

They lingered for another still moment before Amy went inside.

"Hi, Honey," Tom called from the back room. "Is that guy done with my car yet?"

His tone told Amy that everything was normal. He still didn't suspect anything. A pang of guilt stabbed through her heart, but she squashed it to make her voice as light as his.

"Yep. Just finished. He said no charge this time. Just keep him in mind and mention him to your friends if they need a car detailing."

"Oh, that's very decent of him." He came forward and gave her a lingering kiss. The slight electric sensation that tingled through her toes, the way his scent lingered in the air a heartbeat after he left, Amy loved those things about him.

He went and peeked out the front window. "Looks like he did a good job. You should have got him to give yours a good polish. Should I call him back?"

Amy shook her head quickly. "No, that's okay. Mine's fine." Tom shrugged and came over to nuzzle her neck. She closed her eyes to enjoy the familiar sensation.

"How about Riggatoni's tonight for dinner? I've been craving some Italian."

"Sounds good. Down in a bit." Tom went upstairs to take a shower.

"Goodbye Collin," Amy whispered, feeling an unexpected weight lift off her shoulders. Then, on a whim, she went upstairs to join her husband.

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While Amy and Tom enjoyed each other amid lots of hot water and bubbles, Detective Larou sat at her desk, reviewing the ever thickening file she'd accumulated on Roger Cavanough. Her meeting with Amy Parsons had gone about as expected, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

She knew Parsons was one of Cavanough's clients, but like all the rest, there was no way to get her to turn states evidence. Cavanough was smart. He dealt exclusively with rich, powerful women who wanted to step out on their husbands. Women who had a lot of pull with all the right people and would throw every high priced attorney in the city at Larou if they so much as caught a glimpse of a badge. In Parson's case, she was the high priced attorney.

There was no leverage. No way to get them to cooperate. For a lot of them, the shame and humiliation of being found paying for s*x was worse than any potential jail time. But she wasn't going to give up.

For Larou, nailing Cavanough's ass to the pavement wasn't personal. She'd never been wronged by him. But here was a man who represented every facet of why she became a police officer in the first place. He had his hands in more criminal pies than almost anyone else in the city. Drugs, extortion, you name it. He pulled in more money than some small time CEO's and laundered it all through a series of small legitimate businesses he kept on the side. To top it all off, he did it almost out in the open under the assumption he was untouchable. The hell of it was, he'd been right so far.

She rubbed her eyes to clear away some of the strain, then turned the file to Cavanough's most recent employee. His full name was Derick Collin Barnes, but he went solely by his middle name. This was the one Parsons had dallied with. She had seen the two of them together their first night in that bar. By the time they left, they looked very cozy.

Judging by his picture, it wasn't too hard to guess what she saw in him. Even Larou had to admit, the man was quite a succulent piece of eye candy. Blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and broad shoulders that hinted at the coarse muscles underneath. And that was just from his driver's license photo. He looked just the way she'd seen him in that jazz club the night him and Amy Parsons met up. They hadn't seen her of course. She'd sat in a back booth with a club soda and tried to look as nondescript as possible. By the end of the night, though, she was pretty sure she could have been salsa dancing naked in the middle of the room and the fledgling coupling wouldn't have noticed. They only had eyes for each other. But then, that was what she paid him for, wasn't it?

Not much personal info on him in the file. No criminal history to speak of. A few speeding tickets, that's it. But here was something. Sealed juvenile records, accessible only with a judicial order. What could those be?

There was no way of knowing until she got a judge to sign off on them. She could do it. Judge Harvey owed her a favor and with a known acquaintance like Roger Cavanough, there was plenty of probably cause. It would take a few days, but her gut told her it would be worth it. Then, maybe she'd take another crack at Parsons. On the exterior, the successful lawyer had appeared calm and confident, but Larou had made a habit of seeing what was underneath. And she sensed the anxiety radiating from the married woman. Maybe if she told her the guy she'd been screwing around with had a criminal record it would loosen her tongue and make her more cooperative.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The weekend passed by quite pleasantly. Amy and Tom took an overnight trip and stayed with some old friends from college. On the way home, they stopped at a local winery and tasted several flavors, before finally settling on a dry Merlot for their budding wine collection. All in all, it was the kind of days that made one long forward to the future with gusto.

Monday morning found Amy at her desk early, pouring over some old case files she was hoping to wrap up in the next few days. One was an estate settlement of a wealthy entrepreneur that had recently died. He’d left ninety percent of his assets to his granddaughter, a budding violinist and, in Amy’s opinion, the only one of his descendants that was worth a damn. All the rest (six children and five other grandchildren) had cruised through life solely on the merits of the old man’s money and influence. They had hotly contested the will when it was read, but Amy knew it was ironclad. She’d been the one to help him write it.

A knock at her door brought her head up and her eyes grew wide when she saw her assistant, Monica, standing there holding one of the largest assortment of red roses she’d ever seen. There easily had to be three dozen, all a rich red with baby’s breath expertly weaved among the petals.

“These came for you about ten minutes ago, Amy,” she said as she lugged the heavy vase into the room.

“Just set them on the table, Monica. Thank you.” Amy didn’t bother trying to hide the wide grin that was on her face. Tom knew that getting flowers at work was one of her favorite things in the world. It let everyone know that she had a man who cherished her enough to make his feelings known, in the most floral way possible. And he had really outdone himself this time. Monica stepped aside as Amy came over to inspect the bouquet.

It was even more beautiful up close. Every petal was immaculate and the air in her office was quickly taking on a fresh, sweet aroma. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before spying the card tied to the vase with a little ribbon. Butterflies tickled her insides as she read the message.

It was great seeing you the other day. You have a beautiful home. –C-.

All the warmth left Amy’s body. The realization that these flowers were from her ex-lover and not her husband settled on her shoulders like an icy blanket. She felt sick, like she’d betrayed her husband all over again.

She turned around numbly and was halfway back to her desk before she realized someone had already settled in her chair.

“What are you doing?” she asked Monica. She was surprised at how remarkably steady her voice sounded.

“I think it’s time we had a talk,” her secretary said smugly. She gestured to the seat she herself had once sat in when Amy dressed her down. Amy refused to move.

“We’ve already had a talk.”

“No. You talked and I pretended to listen. But now I think we have a few other things we need to chew over.” She glanced pointedly at the flowers on the table. “Don’t you?”

“Get out of my chair.”

“NO! YOU DON’T GIVE ME ORDERS!” Monica screamed, jumping to her feet and slamming her fists down on the desk. “NEVER AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME?”

Amy took an instinctual step back. She’d never seen anyone become so enraged in an instant. It didn’t take much imagination for her to believe that her assistant would physically harm her if she came too close.

There was a heavy silence in the room, broken only by Monica’s heavy breathing as she glared furiously at Amy. Finally, she seemed to regain control of herself and sat back down, gesturing again at the chair reserved for visitors and clients.

The survival instinct in Amy told her that sitting down would be a bad idea. If she needed to defend herself or flee, the extra half-second it took to get to her feet could make all the difference. But the pride in her would be damned if she’d show this b***h that she was unnerved. She sat down, doing her best to maintain a calm and composed look as she did so.

Monica gazed at her for several seconds before saying, “So, how was he?”

“How was who?” Amy said almost automatically. Her training as a lawyer took over, telling her to never tip her hand. Never expose her cards. Monica had nothing. No proof. No evidence. And after today, no job. Just sit back and let her dig her own hole.

“Don’t play games with me. Those flowers didn’t come from your husband. Last time I checked, Tom didn’t start with a ‘C’. And the way you looked like you’d swallowed a lump of coal when you saw the card told me everything I needed to know. So how was the s*x? Don’t worry. It’s just us girls here.”

“You’re way out of line. Clean out your desk and get out.” Amy was trembling from a combination of anger and stark terror that this snake-in-the-grass woman had guessed her secret, and all because of some damn flowers that Collin had no right to send.

Monica’s face twisted up in a cold smirk. “You gonna fire me? Sure. That’s fine. And when I leave maybe I’ll go see Tom. Fill him in on what his loving wife’s been up to. But first I’ll make a little detour to see that detective that was in here the other day. What was her name? Larou? Yeah. That was it. I’m sure she’d be very interested to learn of your extra-marital activities.”

Amy’s breathing sped up and her mind raced, trying to wrap itself around all the potential angles and arguments. But her thoughts were clouded by the realization that this woman sitting at her desk could ruin her. And worse yet, she had absolutely no doubt that she was morally capable of it.

Mustering her courage, she tried one last tract. “You’ve got no evidence. No proof. Tom trusts me and would laugh in your face.”

Monica shrugged. “Maybe. But it would get him thinking about all the unexplained absences you had a few weeks ago while you were boinking your boy-toy. Maybe he’d get suspicious, start snooping around. Check your bank records, alibis, that sort of thing? Are you absolutely sure you’ve covered all your bases? Were you really that careful?”

Amy’s silence said it all. She had been careful when she was with Collin. They’d never gone anywhere where they’d had the slightest chance of running into somebody that knew Tom. They’d used the burn phone religiously and she had made sure it was well hidden and on silent whenever her husband was around. It had almost been too easy to carry on an affair.

But Tom’s misplaced trust in her had been a big part of what made it easy. If that trust was compromised, even shaken by this little b***h in front of her, who knows what evidence he would turn up if he started snooping. And she didn’t even want to think about what Larou could or would do if she got reliable info that she had been lied to.

Monica cold gaze turned into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

“What do you want?” Amy asked quietly in defeat.

“Double my current pay, plus annual bonus equivalent to your own. One month of paid vacation time a year plus an additional month of sick days that continuously accrue with no limit cap. Plus a guaranteed promotion to Sam Mooney’s secretary as soon as the current one retires in about two years.”

“Why do you want that?”

Monica’s grin reminded Amy of how a snake might look before it strikes it’s prey. “Word is, Mrs. Mooney is on her way out the door soon. Cancer, you know. Terrible tragedy. I figure by the time I’m promoted Mr. Money-bags Mooney will be ready to get back on the dating scene again. And who better to help ease those lonely nights than me?”

Amy had never seen true evil before. She’d talked with colleagues who had defended people they thought were evil. Child killers, abusers, and so on. But she’d never had any first-hand experience with it herself. But now, seeing Monica view another human’s suffering and impending death as a means of advancement, she finally knew what true evil was.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Isn’t that enough? And in return, you have my word that nothing about your little time with Collin will reach anyone’s ear from me. Can’t ask for more than that.”

Amy swallowed hard and nodded with as much dignity as she could muster. “Fine. Now get the hell out of my chair.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Monica said, jumping to her feet like a little girl who’s Mom had just announced she was taking her to the park for the day. “By the way, I think I’m gonna take the rest of the day off. Maybe a bit of next week too. You don’t mind, do you?”

So that’s how it was going to be. Amy was the boss in name only. From now on, it was Monica who would be calling the shots around the office. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it without sacrificing her marriage, her career, and possibly her freedom.

Amy nodded numbly and Monica fairly skipped towards the door. “How did you know his name?”

Monica stopped and turned back around. “Excuse me?”

“You called him Collin, but I never told you his name. And the card on the flowers just had a C on it. So how’d you know his name?”

The little b***h c****d her head to the side. “Oh, Amy,” she said piteously, “how do you think he got your address? Did you really buy that whole business about him showing up there just to wash cars? You really are the stupidest smart person I’ve ever met. But I can’t blame you. When he has that wonderful c**k inside me, I sometimes lose my senses as well. Ta.”

With that final revelation, she left, not even bothering to close the door behind her. Amy sat where she was, not trusting herself to get up. In the span of a few minutes, the foundation upon which her entire life rested had been cracked by a vindictive gold-digging woman.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. It meant that Collin had lied to her the day he’d showed up to her house. He’d come there on purpose. He’d gone to great pains to find out where she lived, if you call f*****g a beautiful, young woman with the personality of a demon a pain.

But why? Why come see her again? It went against every assurance Roger Cavanough had given her. And what would Collin do next?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amy wasn’t sure how long she sat there. All semblance of time left her as she tried in vain to wrap her mind around her new situation. How could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

Not only was she now at the mercy of her vindictive, blackmailing assistant, but the man she’d had an affair with was apparently going to great lengths to find out where she lived. Not only that, but he was sending her flowers at work and generally making it be known that he wasn’t out of her life as he’d claimed he would be from the start. The more he meddled, the more likely it was that Tom would find out that something was amiss. He wasn’t a stupid man. If things continued like this it would only be a matter of time before he noticed something was up with his new favorite car washer.

And Detective Larou was a whole different matter completely. Monica had hit the nail on the head when she dropped her name. All it would take is one little anonymous tip and she had no doubt Larou could and would make her life all kinds of difficult in her quest to bring Roger Cavanough and his cronies to justice.

Cavanough! This was all his fault. He’d assured her that everything would be held in the strictest confidence. That there was absolutely no risk to her, either from a legal standpoint or a personal one. And here she was, with both hanging by a thread.

Maybe he could fix this. The situation with Monica was already out of control. She would just have to suck it up for the next two years until the little b***h got her promotion and started wooing the big boss. But maybe he could do something about Collin. Prevent him from making matters any worse and to stop contacting her while she sorted out this whole mess

She reached for the phone, already mentally retracing the numbers she’d committed to memory what seemed like a lifetime ago. A part of her knew she was acting out of desperation. Despite all of Roger Cavanough’s smooth talk, there were no guarantees in the services he provided. But she had to try. If he was half the businessman he portrayed himself to be, surely he wouldn’t want a rogue agent running around, compromising the discretion he was so fond of promoting.

He answered on the second ring. “This is Cavanough.”

“Mr. Cavanough, this is Amy Parsons. We did some…business a few weeks ago?” She waited for him to recall her to memory, but he answered almost at once.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Parsons. What can I do for you?” Although he sounded pleased to hear from her, there was a tone in his voice that wasn’t there the last time they spoke. It was a hint of wariness. If Amy hadn’t been a lawyer, with an ear trained to detect the subtle nuances of a person’s emotions, she would have missed it.

“I need to speak with you regarding a very urgent matter.” It was several moments before he answered.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m tied up for the next several days. Perhaps if you leave me a secure number where you can be reached, I can get back to you when my schedule opens up a bit.”

Amy knew this trick. She had used it herself a couple times on some clients who insisted that she work for them and only them. It wasn’t about to work on her.

“Mr. Cavanough, that’s not an option,” she said coldly. “You can either meet with me now, or I can blow up your phone until you do.”

“I can block this number,” he countered smugly.

“My office has dozens of lines I can access with a touch of a button. I suppose you can change your number. But then all the business cards with this number you’ve handed out will be worthless. So what’s it going to be?”

She could almost hear him grinding the teeth over the phone before, “Timberfalls Bar at Franklin and Yates. Twenty minutes.” He hung up the phone before she could reply, leaving Amy to fairly run to her car in order to meet the imposed deadline.

She got there eighteen minutes later. The Timberfalls Bar was much like the venue she’d first envisioned for meeting Roger Cavanough. It was a tired, little hole-in-the-wall place whose existence was marked by a faint flickering sign outside.

Normally, she would never have gone in a place like that alone. Bars weren’t her comfort scene anyways and this one seemed to invite trouble like smoking invited cancer. But she didn’t have any choice. She felt her life beginning to crumble and the one person who could put a patch on it long enough for her to make repairs was inside. She gathered her courage and went in.

The interior was much like she expected. Dimly lit, with a few scarred and pitted booths and tables scattered around a worn-down floor. Garbled music played over a set of speakers hung from the ceiling by frayed twine and a thin cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air, despite indoor smoking being banned for the past several years. This place obviously didn’t concern itself much with city ordinances.

Only a few people were there at that time. Two men and a woman, both as shabby looking as their surroundings. They sat at different tables, hunched over their drinks, not bothering to look up at the new arrival. The bartender was a portly man on the far side of middle-age, with a rapidly thinning hair line and a constant grimace. He might have been the owner and looking around reminded him just what his life had amounted to. If so, Amy couldn’t blame him for the constant look of disappointment on his face.

Roger Cavanough sat in the back, forcing her to walk the entire length of the grimy floor to get to him. Once again dressed in a dark designer suit, he looked as out of place the bar as she did. He nodded politely to her as she took a seat across from him but didn’t smile. That’s okay. Amy didn’t feel much like smiling herself.

“Mrs. Parsons,” he said without preamble, “I don’t appreciate being strong-armed into a meeting.”

“And I don’t appreciate being put off.” She returned the hard glint in his eye.

“Hey! What’ll it be, Lady?” the surly bartender called. “This ain’t no social club.”

Amy ordered a drink she had no intention of drinking before waiting to continue the conversation. As soon as it came and she’d paid, Cavanough broke first.

“I assume you’re here about Collin.” She blinked, surprised by the admission.

“Yes, I am.”

Cavanough heaved a sigh. “I thought as much.”

“So, he’s told you what’s going on?” Amy asked in disbelief.

“Yes, and it needs to stop. It’s very unprofessional.” Relief didn’t exactly flood into Amy. After all, she still had the situation with Monica to deal with but with Cavanough’s intervention, at least she had some assurance that the issue with Collin contacting her wasn’t going to continue. And that was a step in the right direction.

“Thank you, Mr. Cavanough. I appreciate your understanding in this matter,” she said, ready to wrap the meeting up and get out of this sinkhole of a bar.

“Not at all. As long as you understand that I can’t have you contacting my employee anymore.”

Amy froze in her tracks. “Your employ…you mean Collin?”

Cavanough nodded gravely. “He showed me the texts you’ve been sending him. Very graphic, I must say, and I do commend you on your imagination, but it has to stop.”

“Wait a minute! I haven’t sent him any texts!”

“Whatever connection you and Collin shared was limited by the terms of the contract,” Cavanough continued as if he hadn’t heard. “That has expired now and so has your liaison together. If you like, I’d be more than willing to arrange another session with a different worker of mine. In fact, I think I have the perfect one in mind for…”

“Stop! I’m not texting Collin,” Amy said vehemently. “He is the one contacting me. First, he showed up at my house washing my husband’s car! Then, he sends flowers to my office, which were intercepted by my b***h of a secretary who is now blackmailing me. I want you to tell your employee to lay off! Leave me alone.”

“Mrs. Parsons, I assure you that’s not the case,” Cavanough said, smiling as if she were a senior citizen who forgot to put pants on before coming out in public. “Collin is one of my best guys, which is one of the reasons he brought this to my immediate attention. Now, please, stop contacting him. Focus on your marriage.”

Hearing Roger Cavanough give her marital advice after it was a man under his control who was jeopardizing it in the first place was enough to make Amy see red. She had to close her eyes and take several deep breaths before she trusted herself to speak without screaming. When she did, her voice was cold and merciless as she played her trump card.

“Mr. Cavanough, if you don’t gain control of your employee, I’m going to have to resort to drastic measures.”

Cavanough’s eyes lost all trace of humor and narrowed dangerously. “What do you mean?” If she hadn’t been consumed with rage, Amy would have been intimidated by the change in his demeanor.

“I mean, if Collin continues to contact and harass me, it becomes stalking, which is a matter for the police.” The last word was hardly out of her mouth before Cavanough was out of his seat and slithered in next to her, trapping her against the dirty wall. He gripped her upper arm tightly.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, b***h?” he snarled through barely clenched teeth. Amy instinctively tried to pull away but his grip only tightened until her fingers started going numb and she gave up.

“Let go of me,” she said, glancing around to see who, if anyone, in this godforsaken bar would come to her aid if she called. Probably no one, which was one of the reasons Cavanough chose this place, she guessed.

“All you bitches are the same. So s*x-starved and desperate for attention that you’ll pay anything for a halfway decent looking guy to spread your legs and pretend he likes it. But make no mistake, Amy” he squeezed her arm so hard it made a whimper escape her lips, “if I get so much as a parking ticket because you went and ran your fat mouth to the cops, I’ll have some friends of mine pay you a visit one night. And this little pain in your arm will feel like a wet dream compared to the s**t they’ll do to you. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even let your hubby watch. So lose Collins number, and while you’re at it, lose mine too.”

He let go of her arm and she instinctively recoiled as far as she could while rubbing her sore bicep. She eyed him like a rabbit eyes a snake as it slithers by, but Cavanough had put up his fangs.

He stood up, adjusted his suit with business-like precision and threw a couple of bills on the table.

“For the drinks,” he explained in his best mannered voice, as if he hadn’t been threatening her life a few seconds earlier. “It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Parsons. Pity we won’t be doing it again anytime soon.” He walked out without a backwards glance.

Amy had never had her life threatened before. She sat where she was for several minutes, trying to compose herself. She even took a shaky sip of the nasty swill the bartender had brought her in an attempt to steady her nerves. The throbbing in her arm was a constant reminder of Cavanough’s words. Words she had no doubt that he had uttered with shocking sincerity.

If she went to the police and Cavanough caught any backlash, she would die, and die horribly. By showing his boss some forged text messages, Collin had essentially blocked off her only two means of assistance. It’s not like she could go to Tom for his input. The only person she may be able to talk to was Julie, although she doubted what help if any her friend could be. By all accounts, her dealings with Roger Cavanough had been nothing short of blissful. She would believe Amy, of that she had no doubt. But her experience in these matters was limited to what she saw in the movies. So was Amy’s for that matter.

When she felt strong enough, she got up and walked out, ignoring the lecherous sneer from the bartender. No doubt he’d assumed that hers and Roger’s interaction had been a secret, lustful rendezvous.

Once outside, she was so on edge that the buzzing of her cell phone, indicating a  received text message caused her to jump in alarm. It was from a number she didn’t recognize, but the eight words on the screen left no doubt who it was from. The air around her grew chilled as she read DID YOU HAVE A NICE CHAT WITH RODGE?

            Collin was watching her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tom got home a few minutes late that night. Damn Todd wouldn’t stop yammering about this new chick he was plowing and, if he wanted that promotion in six months, he was obligated to stay and listen with rapt attention, even though he found the sordid details mildly nauseating. Thank God he was off the dating scene.

Amy was already home, as expected. Things had been so great between them the last few weeks. He kicked himself every time he thought of how bad things had been before. Dinners ate in silence. Entire days bordering on weeks where they just saw each other in passing. And s*x as stale and unfulfilling as anything he had ever experienced.

Tom knew he wasn’t a hundred percent to blame. Life had happened to both of them and had taken a toll on their marriage. But as he reconnected with the woman he’d fallen in love with, he vowed to never let it happen again.

Almost as soon as he pulled in the driveway he knew something was wrong. There was no glaring neon sign that spoke of impending trouble. Such a thing would have been nice, but the neighbors would raise hell.

Instead, it was the little things that barely registered on the edge of his consciousness. Amy’s car was pulled in slightly askew, as if she had hurriedly parked and not bothered to correct her aim. Tom knew his wife was a stickler on parking. She would often point out the jerks at supermarkets who took up four spaces just so their precious Jag or Beamer wouldn’t get scratched by a rogue cart.

Also, only one light from the kitchen could be seen from the outside. The days were getting shorter and Amy hated the dark. It wasn’t unusual for him to come home late and find nearly every light in the house blazing bright. She insisted on a night light on her side of the room. It was almost a ritual of hers to illuminate their home as soon as the sun went down.

Tom’s gut knew twisted uncomfortably and he hurried inside, not bothering to take the time to retrieve his briefcase from the trunk.

Amy was in the kitchen, sloppily chopping vegetables as a pot of water boiled on the stove beside her. A cup of amber liquid lay at her elbow. Now, Tom knew something was wrong. The strongest stuff his wife drank was a glass or two of wine with dinner, sometimes more if they were splurging. But in all their years together he had never known her to help herself to the small reserve of liquor he kept in the cabinet. From the way she swayed slightly as he came in, he guessed this wasn’t her first glass either.

“Sweetheart?” he called as he came in. She stiffened and turned around, and he fought the urge to rush forward and take her in his arms. She had been crying. That much was obvious. “What’s happened?”

For a second, it looked like she was on the cusp of revealing something. Her mouth opened slightly and her breathing quickened. But she shut it down an instant later and rushed into his arms, wrapping herself around him as she stifled sobs in his chest. Tom held her close.

He’d only seen his wife in this kind of state once before, when her father died unexpectedly a few years after they’d gotten married. It had been one of the most traumatic events of her life. Until then, she’d been blessedly shielded from death in all its guises. Whatever had happened to break Amy down to this point, he had no doubt she would share with him when she was ready. Until then, all he could do was hold her, wipe away the tears and smooth her hair back as gently as possible.

At least, that was what he thought. To his great surprise, as her crying subsided, Tom felt his wife rubbing against him in an unmistakable fashion. He froze, uncertain as whether he was correct in what he was feeling. After a few moments, the tightening in his pants left no room for doubt.

Amy grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him down into a long, deep kiss which he returned in kind. Her hands began fumbling with his belt as the heat between them grew.

“Are you sure?” Tom said with the last bit of his self-control.

“I need you,” Amy breathed into his ear. “I need you right now.”

That was it. Giving way to the lust between them, he scooped her up and carried her upstairs to their bed, as she continued to nibble at neck and ear.

Usually, during their lovemaking, Tom was the dominant one. He was a considerate and thoughtful lover, but he set the pace and he instigated the positions. Not this time. This time, Amy left no doubt that it was she who was in control.

She rode him with a wild abandon she hadn’t displayed since they’d first started having s*x, when everything was new and fresh. When he tried to reach up to caress her body, she trapped his hands against her breasts and bucked harder with him inside her. When Tom arched his back, which was his usual signal that he was close to climaxing, Amy froze, unmoving, until the imminent sensation of his release dissipated. Then she would start the process all over again.

Tom wasn’t sure how many times this played out. It was enticing and maddening all at once. Finally, when he thought he could stand it no more and they were both bathed in sweat, she allowed him to orgasm just as she did, with a wail that the neighbors could probably hear. Exhausted and spent, she collapsed on top of him.

“You want to talk about it?” Tom asked, waking from a light doze. Amy was still astraddle him and the way she started made it clear she had been flirting with sleep as well. No surprise there. Both of them were exhausted from their marathon s*x session.

“Mmm, just had a really bad day. And I needed you,” Amy said sleepily.

“Must have been some day. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.”

She paused. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t take care of.” With that, she rolled off him and curled up to his arm. She was asleep less than five minutes later, but for Tom, sleep was elusive despite his exhaustion. He had a disturbing feeling, that for the first time since they’d been married, his wife had just lied to him.