Eve’s Wedding Knight

Chapter 10

Returning from that evening’s pizza run, Jake found his partner hunched over the recorder with one hand pressed to his earphones and a rapt expression on his face. He slid the pizza onto the narrow countertop and said, “What’s goin’ on?”

Birdie pushed back his chair and peeled off his earphones. “You gotta hear this.” He reached over to switch on the speaker.

“…sure that thing’s waterproof?”

Soft laughter…

“I sure hope so. Not that 1 intend to get in that deep. Ummm…this is far enough. Oooh, that feels good.”

“Yeah? Move over, baby… Oops-here’s your wine, complete with straw. Got it? Aaah, man. ”

“What the hell’s that swishing noise?” Jake asked. His skin was crawling and his heart rate had quickened to a brisk walk. “Where in the hell are they-the shower?”

Grinning in admiration, Birdie shook his head. “She bugged the Jacuzzi-you believe that? Nervy little rascal, isn’t she?”

“That’s one word,” Jake muttered.

“…wish you didn’t have to wear this thing.”

“Mmm…me, too.”

“Or this. What’re you wearing this for? Hey, come on, it’s just you and me, babe…”

“Sonny…” The voice carried an undercurrent of distress.

Jake realized he was making a growling sound low in his throat when his partner turned to give him a startled look. He muttered, “Bastard…” under his breath and shrugged off the look, but there wasn’t any way he could shrug off the images that were fogging up his mind: Purple shadows swirled with golden steam… a tropical soup of flowers and humidity and sweat permeated with the music of water in all its variations-a minute and subtle symphony. And Eve, languid and supine, her long, lush body rocking gently in the water’s undulations, a sheen of moisture on her cheeks and lips and brow…breasts just visible, firm and round beneath a frothy lace of bubbles…and Sonny’s hands-

“What the hell’s that noise?” Birdie asked.

“How should I know?” said Jake. “Shut up so I can listen.” But he made a mental note to stop grinding his teeth.

“…enough I’m not allowed to touch, now I can’t even look?”

“Sonny…it’s not like we’ve got any privacy. Not with Sergei and Ricky popping in all the time.” And she was laughing, a sound almost indistinguishable from the gurgle of the water.

“Aagh…I know, baby. I’m sorry about that. I’m not crazy about it, either, but you gotta understand, this isn’t like at home in Vegas. Security’s not in place yet. What, they bothering you? They get on your nerves, tell ‘em take a hike, okay? Yeah…just want you to be happy, babe, you know that. ”

“I know, Sonny… I want us both to be happy. ”

How could she say that with a straight face? Jake wondered. And sound so damn sincere? He didn’t know why she’d worried about being a good enough actor. Far as he could see, women were all natural-born actors.

“Sheesh…” Birdie was swearing under his breath.

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear that? She sounds about as sincere as a used-car salesman. No way Cisneros is gonna buy that. No way.”

Jake coughed. “Guess guys hear what they want to hear.”

“Yeah.” Birdie sighed. “I hope so.”

“So, you saw the doc today? How’d that go? He say when you’re gonna be getting outa that neck thing?”

“Nuh-uh… but-oh! I almost forgot to tell you. The good news is, I’m going to be starting physical therapy. Three times a week. They’re setting it up so I don’t have to go to Savannah every time. I’m going to be having it at that health club downtown-the one next to the Hilton-what’s it called? The Body Shop? The therapist is going to meet me there. ”

“Yeah? So, what’s this…physical therapy supposed to do?”

“Oh, well…I’m not sure, really. I guess right now it’s mostly heat treatments, massage, whirlpool…stuff like that.”

“What the hell you gotta go to some… health club for? What’s wrong with the therapist comin’ right here?”

“Uh-oh,” said Jake. Birdie uttered an obscenity, sibillant and succinct.

“Sure, why not? Hell, we got the hot tub already, anything else you need, you just tell me what it is and you got it. No need you havin’ to go… Wha-at? So…what’s with this face?”

“Careful…” murmured Jake. “Don’t push it…don’t push it…”

“C‘mon…spit it out. I’m just tryin’ to make a nice suggestion, here.”

“I know you’re trying to help. But…dammit, did you ever stop to think maybe I might want to get away from this place once in a while? I’m not used to being cooped up, you know.”

“Hey, hey… Come on…”

“What’s she doing?” Birdie whispered. “Is she crying? That’s good…that’s good. Sounded like she really meant that.”

“I’m used to working, being around people! I mean-Jeez, I’m used to slogging through jungles, climbing around in ancient ruins, stuff like that. If I don’t have something to do I’m going to go stir-crazy!”

“Hey, baby, don’t do that. Don’t get upset. Okay? Look, you want to go somewhere, you just gotta tell me. If I’m not here, get the boys to take you. Here-come ‘ere, now-you okay? Is that better? That make you happy?”

Whatever her reply was, it got swallowed up in the music of the water, and then for a few minutes nobody said anything, while the tension in the van grew thick…then brittle. Jake and Birdie looked at each other. Birdie fiddled with the controls. Jake looked at the floor and counted silently, keeping time with the beating of his own heart and trying without success to block out the pictures in his mind. When the words came again he let out his breath in a low, slow hiss of relief.

“Reminds me…your sister called-what‘s’er name? Bella?”

“Mirabella? Really? What did she want?”

“Like she’s gonna chat with me? No-she said she wants to talk to you about Thanksgiving. How come you told her we’re not coming to her place for dinner?”

“Oh, God, Sonny, it’s just such a hassle-my family…”

“Come on, one minute you’re tellin’ me how you’re goin’ crazy bein’ all cooped up here-”

“Uh-oh,” said Birdie. Jake breathed a one-word prayer.

“…and now you’re tellin’ me you don’t want to go see your folks on Thanksgiving? What the hell’s this? You lyin’ to me?”

“Be careful,” Jake pleaded. “Be careful.”

“I was just trying to spare you-”

“What the hell you talkin’ about? Didn’t we have this conversation already? They’re your family. That makes ’em my family, too. You love somebody, you take the bad with the good.”

In a futile attempt to ease the tension, Birdie joked, “You got that right. You ever meet Margie’s brother Melvin?”

“Anyway, what could be so terrible about Thanksgiving dinner at your sister’s place? Where’s she live? Someplace up in Georgia, right? Hey-if you think the drive’s too much for you, we can take the plane-no problem. ”

Birdie turned around and comically arched his eyebrows at Jake. “No problem.” Jake lifted a hand and hissed at him to shut up, which Birdie didn’t take personally. “Relax,” he said, “looks like she’s pulled it out okay.”

“Yeah,” said Jake, “like she’s tiptoeing through a damn minefield.”

“Sonny, you have no idea. It’s at Bella‘s-that means her husband’s whole family is gonna be there. Kids everywhere-a dozen, at least. A bunch of guys playing football on the front lawn. Granny Calhoun’ll probably put a curse on you.”

“What’re you talkin’ about? Sounds like a blast.”

“Oh, God…Sonny, are you sure?”

“Hey, baby… like I said. It’s Thanksgiving-you should be with family. Y tu familia es mi familia. Right, baby? Yeah… ”

Again they listened to the water music. Jake stared at the floor and folded his arms across his chest to hold himself still. God, how he hated the silences. Without words to set the scene for him, his mind insisted on painting its own pictures. How could it not? If he were in that hot tub, with that woman, he knew what he’d be doing.

“So, tell me more about this therapy. Massage, you said?”

“Sonny… ” And suddenly her voice had gone breathless and panicky. The hair on the back of Jake’s neck stood up; tension stiffened his legs and straightened his back.

“Wha-at? You used to love it when I gave you a back rub. Now you don’t even want me to touch you?”

Heat exploded in the pit of Jake’s belly and raced through his entire body. He could feel it burning in his face, in the backs of his eyeballs, in the palms of his hands. He discovered that he was alternately rubbing his palms with his fingers, then curling them into fists… remembering the feel of Eve’s tender muscle, smooth and springy beneath his fingertips… imagining the fleshy parts of Cisneros’s face bursting beneath his knuckles…

“It’s not that… at least-”

“What, then? I gotta tell you, Evie, I’m startin’ to wonder if that damn mugger did something more to you than just hit you on the head. ”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“Jeez, baby, it’s not like he raped you or anything…”

Birdie made a disgusted noise. “Mr. Sensitivity.”

“No! Of course not. But…oh, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. It’s still a violation, and it’s hard to get my… confidence back. It just takes time, I guess.”

“So, in the meantime, I’m supposed to be like, what-your brother? Hell, I’d just like to sleep in the same bed with you-what’s wrong with that? You won’t even let me do that.”

Jake reined himself in with the sheer force of his willpower. He had to force himself to listen. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Every second, every word was torture. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before-one minute wired and burning, twitchy with the urge to punch the hell out of something, or someone, the next minute cold and clammy and feeling like he was one deep breath away from puking. And weirdest of all, underlying both of those, there was this pressure behind his temples and in his belly…

What had he done? What had he been thinking of, to send the woman into a situation like this?

“Sonny, what do you think, I’m made of stone? If you touch me it’s just going to make us both crazy, don’t you see that?”

Her voice was rapid and breathless. Too eager, Jake thought. Too desperate. How could Cisneros help but hear it?

“I think it’s easier if we just… you, know, keep our distance. Just… don’t think about it.”

“Easy for you to say… ”

“If we keep busy, the time is going to go by… Sonny? What’s the matter? Where are you going?”

“Cold shower, that’s where I’m going…gonna make me crazy…”

As the grumbling voice faded into the gurgle and chuckle of the water, Jake let go of the breath he’d been holding for what seemed like a week and began to swear.

His partner, on the other hand, was laughing. Birdie wiped a hand across his brow and said, “Hoo boy, is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

Jake drove a hand through his hair and turned away, muttering, “This isn’t funny. I’ve gotta get her out of there. It’s too damn dangerous…gotta get her out of there now.”

Birdie, reaching for the pizza box, looked at him in surprise. “Why? She handled herself like a pro.”

“He’s suspicious as hell.”

“You don’t know that. Sounded like normal reactions to me. Hell, I’d be upset if my bride-to-be was all of a sudden off-limits. Damn, if it was anybody but Cisneros, I’d almost have to feel sorry for the guy.”

Jake swore. “You heard her-he’s trying to isolate her.”

“What, you mean the therapy? That’s also a pretty normal response. Guy’s got more money than God, he could outfit his own health club if he wanted to.”

“If he gets her where we can’t get at her-”

“Hey, she nipped it in the bud, didn’t she? Sounds to me like she knows how to handle the guy pretty well. We just have to back off and give her some time. You said yourself-he wants something from her. Okay, so sooner or later he’s gonna tip his hand. And he’s not going to do anything before then. Until he gets what he wants-”

“Family…” Jake growled the word, straightening slowly, stretching to ease the tension out of his neck and back muscles. “Her family-that’s what he wants from her. More specifically, her sister-Summer, the ex Mrs. Hal Robey. He still thinks she’s got ’em-the files Robey stole from him. He’s using Eve to get close enough to her sister to find those files-remember? He said so himself, in that conversation she overheard.”

Birdie rocked back in his chair. “Then what’s she doing-?”

Jake interrupted him, swearing with quiet fury. “She’s trying to protect them. She’s trying to keep Cisneros away from her family. Probably thinks she can get something on him without getting them involved again. Damn.”

His partner shrugged. “Maybe she can.”

Jake was trying to pace in the confined space of the van. “Cisneros isn’t stupid. Sooner or later he’s gonna figure it out-hell, probably already has. He’s just biding his time. Look-we’ve gotta get her out of there. It’s too big a risk. I think we should bring her in while we still can.”

“We can run it by Coffee, I guess.” Birdie paused in the middle of a stretch to shake his head doubtfully. “But I think you’re being premature. Man, I don’t get this. I don’t get you. You’ve been trying to nail this guy for how long? Five years? Six? You say this Waskowitz woman is the key, the break you’ve been waiting for. You set this up. Now you want to call it off before you’ve even given it a chance? If I didn’t know better-” He broke off, and both men stared at the microphone.

“What in the hell is that?” Birdie looked sideways at Jake, who for some reason couldn’t think of anything to say. “That isn’t…tell me that’s not Bessie Smith.”

Jake cleared his throat. “I, uh…gave her a tape. For her…you know, for her, uh…birthday.”

“Oh, Lord… Lord Almighty.” Birdie rocked back in his chair and stared at Jake as if he were indeed the Second Coming. “I’m beginning to see-yes, I’m beginning to understand now.” His tone was awed, but his eyes were positively gleeful. Jake had to resist the temptation to tip him over backward. “You are starting to care for this woman! Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“Sure I care,” Jake said reasonably. “She’s a nice lady.”

“Uh-uh-don’t give me that. Long as I’ve known you you’ve cared about one thing-bringing down Cisneros. At any cost. You are as a brother to me, you know that, and I know you’ll forgive me when I say this, but you are a little nutty where this man is concerned. This is the first time I’ve ever known you to put something-or someone-else ahead of that priority.”

Jake waved that angrily away, like taking a swipe at a fly. “Yeah, well this is the first time I’ve been responsible for sending a civilian into harm’s way, too.”

Birdie, who could be every bit as annoying as a fly when he wanted to be, just smiled. “Jake…Jake. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’d send your own mother undercover if you thought it would get you Cisneros’s head on a pike, but I imagine just about anybody else would be fair game. No, son…no. That’s not what’s going on here. Hot damn-” he rubbed his hands together briskly, then helped himself to a slice of tepid pizza “-I do believe it’s finally happened. Wait’ll I tell Margie.” He bit into the pizza while offering the box to Jake. “Not bad. Care for some?”

Jake shook his head; for some reason he’d lost his appetite. He was staring at the microphone, transfixed by a new voice, an unexpectedly full and throaty voice-not Bessie’s-which was at that moment crooning a familiar blues standard. He thought, She can sing. I’ll be damned.

“Kidding aside…” Birdie’s voice came to him softly, and with a steely edge of warning. “My friend, happy as I am that this has happened to you, your timing’s way off. This is bound to affect your judgment. Already has. If you can’t see that…”

Jake rubbed at his burning eyes and nodded. He could see that. He could see a lot of things. That was the problem. He could see Eve with Sonny Cisneros’s hands all over her…caressing that creamy skin as he fastened a pearl choker around her slender throat. And he could see those same hands on that same throat, choking the life out of it. Not that it would happen that way. Cisneros wouldn’t soil his own hands with murder. He’d have his men do it. And maybe, since he supposedly cared about this woman, this one time he’d tell them to do it quick.

“I need to talk to her,” he growled. “Tell her she’s got to quit fooling around, quit trying to keep Sonny away from her sister. I want this over. Capish?”

“Yeah,” said his partner gently, “I believe I do.”

Eve’s first appointment with her “physical therapist” had been set for Friday. As the day approached, she felt like a six-year-old counting the days until her birthday party. Who would be there? Her hair was a mess. What should she wear? She had Sergei drive her to town so she could buy workout clothes.

“Whadaya need those for? It’s not like you’re gonna be doing anything physical,” Sonny pointed out. He’d been noticeably cranky since the Jacuzzi episode.

“I want to fit in,” Eve calmly explained. “Plus, I like them. I think they look sexy.”

“Yeah, they do,” Sonny grumbled, “for all the good that does anybody.”

While she was at it, she went to a salon and had her hair trimmed. She got hair clippings all down inside the collar, which itched like fire until she was able to get home and take it off. Then she had them in her bed instead.

“What’re you so excited about this physical therapy stuff for?” Sonny wanted to know.

“One step closer to getting my life back,” Eve answered fervently, and watched with satisfaction as the lines of suspicidn in Sonny’s face softened into sympathy.

The key to undercover work, she’d discovered, was to tell the truth whenever possible.

Even so-and whether out of suspicion or genuine interest she couldn’t be certain-Sonny insisted on accompanying her to her first therapy session. At least, thanks to the bugs, she knew Sonny’s presence wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

She did her best to throttle back her anticipation. After all, she told herself, Jake might not even be there. To avert suspicion, the therapy sessions were scheduled for three times a week, because that was what would be expected for her type of “injury,” not because there was any real need for her to check in that often. Would Jake come himself unless there was something he needed to talk to her about? And it had only been a few days since she’d seen him. She told herself he wouldn’t be there. Of course he wouldn’t. She’d gotten all worked up-not to mention prettied up-for nothing.

So it came as something of a shock to her when she walked into the Body Shop and there was Jake in sweatpants and tank top, pounding the daylights out of a punching bag.

Not like it was anything that obvious. She was checking in at the lobby desk, which was situated behind a curving counter in front of a wall of glass overlooking the main workout room, the purpose of which, she assumed, was to give visitors a view of the club’s sumptuous facilities so that they’d be enticed to join. While the beefy young man on duty at the desk was on the phone, Eve watched an interesting assortment of sweaty people of varying ages, genders and degrees of fitness pumping away on stationary bicycles, stairchmbers, rowing machines and Nautilus equipment.

The area in the back of the room was devoted to free weights. These were serious bodybuilders, she assumed from the look of them-brawny guys with bulging biceps, massive deltoids and necks with a greater circumference than their heads. Most of them wore headbands to keep the sweat out of their eyes, and some wore hand protectors and heavy support belts. All of them wore looks of grim concentration, if not intense pain.

“Serious stuff,” Eve said to Sonny, nodding toward the weight lifters. Sonny, who had declined the attendant’s invitation to pay the fee and join the fun, merely grunted and resumed his pacing. Not that Sonny was in terrible shape, but as far as he was concerned, that physical stuff was for the Rickys and Sergeis of this world. He preferred more subtle methods of power and control.

So, since the attendant was still occupied, Eve went back to watching the club’s patrons. Through large glass windows on one side of the main exercise room, she could see aerobics classes in progress. In one, a dozen or so senior citizens in sweats gamely flapped and stretched and marched and swiveled at the exhortations of a fiftyish woman wearing a fuchsia leotard and purple tights. In the room next door, a younger group wriggled and pounded energetically on and off stairsteps to the beat of a dance tune only they could hear. And farther back along that same wall, partially obscured by the huffing puffing weight lifters, a tall, lean man in gray sweats and a white tank-style undershirt was attacking a massive punching bag with the single-minded fury of an enraged bull.

“My goodness,” Eve murmured under her breath. She wasn’t even into boxing; she hated violence-she’d seen too much of its end product. But for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off the man at the bag, and watching him, unaccountably felt her heartbeat quicken and her breath grow thick in her chest. This was violence, yes, but it seemed more like an imperative of nature than a product of mankind’s folly-like a grizzly bear pummeling a tree trunk, or a bull elk’s charge; primitive and exciting; a bit frightening, but in a way, soul stirring, too.

The man paused, steadying the bag with a glove while he wiped sweat with a forearm. Then he lifted his head and looked straight at her; even from that distance she could see his eyes glowing black as coals beneath the furrowed brow. Her breath gushed from her as if one of those gloved hands had just made contact with her solar plexus. She thought, My God-it’s Jake.

“Miss? Uh, ma’am?” The attendant was talking to her. “Okay, if you want to go on back, your therapist is gonna meet you. Go through there-that’s the ladies’ locker room, you can change in there-then go on through. You’ll go past the pool and you’ll see the doors marked Steam Room, Whirlpool, and so on. She says she’ll meet you there-at the whirlpool.”

Eve nodded. She was still trying to recover her breath. She started for the door the attendant had indicated, to the right of a large arrow and the sign Ladies.

“Wait,” Sonny blustered. “I wanna meet this therapist.”

The attendant said, “Sir, if you’d care to wait till she’s done, if you could just have a seat… Or else you can come back for her-whichever you prefer. Should be ‘bout half an hour.”

“How about if I bring-?” She looked at the attendant.

“Name’s Marcie,” he supplied.

“Okay, I’ll have her come out afterward so you can meet her. Is that all right?”

“Just want to make sure she knows what she’s doing,” Sonny said gruffly. “Don’t want some quack messing around with my girl.” He stroked her arm, then leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Go on-get it over with. I’ll be waiting.”

Eve whispered, “Okay,” breathless as a child. She picked up her bag and walked through the swinging door, and instantly was slapped in the face by the humidity and swamped by the unmistakable smells of the gym-sweat and steam and disinfectant and oil of wintergreen. Her knees felt weak, as though she’d just had a bad fright, or narrowly avoided an accident.

She placed her bag on a bench in front of an empty locker and undressed quickly, putting on the one-piece bathing suit she’d just bought, and her new warm-ups over that. And all the while her heart was pounding, and her mind kept replaying the words, Oh my God…my God-it’s Jake.