After dinner they walked on the wharf and strolled among the house boats, restaurants, and small shops. He bought her an ice cream cone, which she found endearing. She even shared it with him, and she never shared her butter pecan. They moved on while the gulls soared overhead and the sun began to set out on the bay. Even though they’d been enjoying each other’s company, she sensed the silence in him. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Feeling protective, I guess,” he replied solemnly.
She stuck her arm in his and enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers. “You’re a very special man, Reese Anthony.”
“Somebody should have been there to help you.”
“I know,” she softly responded, “but no one was, and it can’t be changed.” She looked out over the water for a silent moment while the pain of that day played in her head. “I had nightmares for months.” She looked up at him and said, “I’m better now.”
He savored the honest face of the woman he knew he wanted by his side for the rest of his life. “If you ever, ever, need me. Call.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Promise.”
The serious tone and eyes made her heart pound. “I promise.”
He lifted his hand and ran a dark finger down her soft cheek. “I will kill the next person who hurts you.”
“Reese?”
“They’ll have to go through me.”
She realized he meant every word, and the intensity moved her. “I’m hoping there’ll never be a next time.”
Eyes still reflecting his mood, he nodded. “Me too.”
This was a bonding moment, and she knew that from this day forward they’d be linked in a way both beautiful and new. The certainty thrilled and scared her at the same time. “When you court a woman, what should she expect?”
The question garnered a small smile. “That I’ll buy her flowers and make love to her.” He traced her cheek again. “That I’ll take her to dinner and make love to her. That I’ll take her to my place in Hawaii and make love to her on a black beach under the moon.”
She fought off the dizziness brought on by his powerful gaze and the seductive tone of his mahogany voice. “Then a woman would be crazy to tell you no.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
Pleased by what her words meant, he nodded. They sealed the unspoken agreement with a slow lingering kiss, then arm in arm continued their lazy stroll.
On the ride back to her office, Reese’s phone went off. It was Mendes, calling to thank him for bringing Pennington’s missing music player to the attention of the detectives, and to let him know that the grandson had called in the serial numbers.
Mendes added, “Thanks for that too. Mrs. Pennington doubted the grandson would have talked to us about it if you hadn’t paid her a visit. The player is one of those new clip-ons all the kids are sporting. The grandson had the word ‘Pops’ engraved on the face of it.”
Reese’s pulse jumped. His father’s face rose in his mind. “The serial number’s gone out?”
“Yep, to pawnshops and secondhand stores all over the area. Let’s hope we get lucky. Just wanted to bring you up to speed.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Thanks again, Lieutenant.”
And he was gone.
JT looked Reese’s way. She’d only heard his side of the conversation and it sounded innocent enough except for the serious tone of his voice and the “Lieutenant.” But she didn’t ask about it because one, it was rude and two, she was having enough trouble handling her own business without sticking her nose in somebody else’s. If he wanted to talk about it, he would, and if not, that was fine too. “You think Bryce has found anything?” Not wanting to disturb him while he was working, they hadn’t called.
“Never know. If there’s something to find, the Brain will find it. Might take time, though.”
Reese seemed worlds away, and she wondered if it was because of the phone call. “You okay?”
It took him a second or two to respond, then he said, “Yeah. Just thinking about my father.”
“Is he all right?”
He nodded. “It’s nothing. One of those moments.” He had been pondering how he’d feel if his pops had been the one murdered. After meeting Mrs. Pennington, talking with the grandson, and now learning about the engraving, the case was morphing into something bordering on personal. When he looked over at JT, he saw the concern on her face. He couldn’t talk to her about what he was working on, and even if he could, she had enough on her plate at the moment. “I’m okay.”
“Just checking.”
“Thanks.”
Back at the office, Bryce and Misha had filled the conference room with enough electronic equipment to do a remake of Frankenstein. There were monitors and mother boards and odd-shaped gadgets that she’d never seen before. Both geeks were seated and pecking away on keyboards attached to screens filled with code sequences. Without looking up, Bryce asked, “You two have a good time?”
“We did,” his brother answered. “How’s it going?”
“Most interesting. This is not your average everyday virus. Not only is it beautifully constructed, it was made specifically for you, JT, and only you. It’s coded directly to your computer. Amazing.”
“So is this good news or bad?” she asked.
He looked up and the grin he gave her was so like Reese’s, she thought it had to be genetic. “Good and bad. Good in the sense that I get to play with it, and bad in that it may take me longer than I expected. Be easier if I was home in my own lab.”
Misha talked and typed. “Nothing stopping you from shipping it home.”
He met her eyes, then shrugged. “Never thought about that. Want to come along?”
The look they shared was so loaded, JT wondered what the two of them had been doing beside turning the room into a Frankenstein set. She glanced Reese’s way and saw him shaking his head with amusement.
Not wanting to be involved in whatever was happening between Mr. and Ms. Frankenstein, she said to them, “You two work it out. We’ll be in my office.”
Once there, she checked the messages left by Carole, then took a seat on the sofa next to Reese, leaned back and relaxed. “I think your brother’s going to be surprised by Misha.”
“How so?”
“Every athlete I’ve represented in the past three years has hit on her. Not one of them made it to first base, let alone home plate.”
Reese smiled. “A challenge will be good for him. We Anthony men like that.”
“Oh really?”
“Can’t you tell?”
Their heads were turned toward each other. “Both of you are a mess,” she told him.
“Genetic. Wait until you meet Pops and Jamal.”
She thought she’d like that.
Bryce walked in. “Okay. We’re going to pack everything up and ship it to the house.”
JT asked, “Is Misha going?”
“No. Says she has to stay here and do the install on your new computers.”
Both Reese and JT could see he wasn’t happy.
JT said, “Yes she does. The equipment is supposed to arrive in the morning.”
“I told her I’d fly her out later in the week and pay for her hotel, but she still said no.”
“Misha is a very focused young woman. She takes her responsibilities very seriously. Can you work on the virus without her help?”
“Of course, but I like her company. I don’t get to meet many women with a brain as fine as their face.”
JT said, “Not many women tell you Anthony men no, do they?”
They answered in unison. “No.”
JT had never met a family like theirs. “Humility is good for the soul.” She stood. “What do you need from me?”
“Not a thing. Misha and I will get some shipping boxes in the morning. Once everything is packed, I’ll fly home, sometime tomorrow afternoon or evening.”
“Okay.”
 
; Bryce looked to his brother. “She and I are going to get some dinner and check out a couple clubs. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Reese nodded.
Bryce threw JT a wink then left them alone.
Reese asked, “So what do you want to do this evening?”
She shrugged. “I have to call my lawyer and see if she left anyone alive at the network, then I just want to sit and do nothing. It’s been a long day.”
“Your place or mine?”
He loved the sly little smile that played across her lips. “Yours, but I have to be back here early to help Misha hook up the equipment.”
“Whatever you say.” His eyes were working overtime.
“I mean it, Reese.”
“Whatever you say.”
She chuckled, then took out her phone and called her lawyer, Francine. While she talked and took notes, Reese went to the outer office and made a couple of calls of his own. He wanted to know all there was to know about Bobby Garrett, so he left one message with the commissioner’s office and another with an old friend on the Detroit Police Department who owed him a favor.
It was almost 9 P.M. when Bobby Garrett pulled up in front of his ex-wife Kelly’s house. Even in the dark his shiny new convertible stood out on the tired-looking streets. He was so glad he’d moved on with his life and no longer called this part of L.A. home. Being rich was a whole hell of a lot better than being poor.
He stepped up on the porch and knocked. A beat later the porch light went on and Kelly’s mechanic husband David Young opened the door. Through the screen, he gave Bobby a long hard look, then called for Kelly. He didn’t invite Bobby in, and Bobby didn’t expect to be. The two didn’t like each other at all. When Kelly came into view, she patted her husband’s muscled arm reassuringly, then stepped outside. “You got my money?”
Bobby could see David still standing behind her. “I told you, in a few days. I came to see my son.”
David snorted loud enough to be heard.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because. Haven’t seen him in a while. You tell me to act like a father, so I’m here.”
“It’s a damn school night, Bobby.”
“I’ll bring him right back. I just want him to ride with me for a minute.”
“Where?”
“No place in particular. Just ride. See how he’s doing.”
Kelly’s skepticism was plain, but she finally relented. “Okay. Have him back here in one hour. One.”
She stepped back inside. Bobby could see the hostility on David’s face but he ignored it. Jalen appeared a few moments later. His hostility mirrored his step-father’s, but Bobby ignored it as well. “Hey, Jalen.”
“Hey.” He was much taller than Bobby had been at sixteen, but according to his grades, just as smart.
“Let’s take a ride.”
The boy stepped out of the door and followed Bobby to the car.
After the first few moments of silence, Jalen said, coolly, “Nice car.”
“Got it a few months ago. I like it.”
“What’s it cost? Thirty-five, forty grand?”
“About that.”
“Must be nice.” Jalen didn’t bother hiding his sarcasm.
Bobby glanced over at the sullen face looking out of the car window. The young blood had a lot of attitude. On one level, Bobby liked it, but on another, Jalen took after his mother. “Got something for you.” He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and tossed the gift over.
Jalen examined the music player skeptically. “What’s this for?”
“Just something to make up for not having seen you in a while.”
“Why’s it say Pops on it?”
“So you’ll know who gave it to you.”
“Thanks,” he said a bit too disinterestedly for Bobby’s taste and stuck it into his jeans. “I’m a junior this year. Are you going to help Mom and Dad pay for my college?”
Bobby had expected him to be ecstatic over the gift, not grill him about money. “Sure, yeah.”
Jalen turned away. “I need to get back. I have a big trig test tomorrow.”
“Okay.” A tight-lipped Bobby drove him back.
On the way to the Valley and his home, Bobby thought about his son. Having never had a father of his own, he admittedly didn’t know a lot about the role. He’d grown up in a single parent household with a mother who’d gotten pregnant with him at the tender age of fourteen. She died in a house fire during one of his early stints in juvie. He’d been in college before he ran into people who had real fathers in their lives. For them, growing up without their dads was unimaginable. They called on their fathers for advice, when they were in crisis, or just to say hello. He knew nothing about that, and back then, watching them interact with their dads was like watching one of those old fifties sitcoms he and his homeys used to laugh at while downing forties. No, he knew nothing about being there for Jalen, and in reality he didn’t have the time, he thought now, and never had. He’d done okay without having a father in his life. Jalen would too.
Setting aside those thoughts, Bobby put in a call to Ham. Preseason games would begin on Sunday. With the L.A. Grizzlies opening up on the road against Oakland, he wanted to make sure everything was tight. He got Ham’s voice mail. “Call me back,” he said and ended the call.
His cut for the first delivery would be fifty grand. Not a lot, but enough to pay down his more pressing bills like the mortgage, car note, and his secretary Katrina’s salary. In order to maintain his lifestyle and keep up the pricey front at his office, he’d skimmed so much money off the tops of his clients’ accounts he couldn’t afford to take another dime without raising flags. And not getting the contract with Owens had been a major setback. But Bitch Blake was getting hers. In the meantime, he planned to duck the people that he owed, and ignore the others with their hands out, like Kelly and the car dealership that held his lease. When he got paid, they’d get paid.
Before going to Reese’s hotel, they swung by JT’s place so she could pick up some clothes for work the next day. She also grabbed her mail, and was in her kitchen going through the stack when an envelope from one of the financial institutions she dealt with caught her eye. Opening it, she read:
Dear Bitch! Get out town. Lamont Keel let you live. I won’t.
Reese walked in from the patio, and seeing her blanched face, hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”
She handed him the letter and then sank to the floor. “Lord,” she whispered. She could feel herself shaking.
Reese read the note. A second later he was on the phone with Mendes, who turned him over to the FBI.
The local office sent two agents to view the note and to talk with JT. After she gave them the background on the Lamont Keel incident, she told them about the virus and what Bryce had said about it being targeted specifically at her. In response to the agents’ questions about who the perp might be, she shrugged. “The only person on my list is Bobby Garrett,” she said, then told them about the history between them, the vandalism to her car and the running feud he seemed intent on waging. “As a lawyer, I know it’s all circumstantial, but he’s the only one giving me any kind of grief.”
One agent, a redheaded woman named Brenda Tate, raised her green eyes from the notes she was taking and agreed. “It is circumstantial, but if he’s the one responsible for this letter, he’s crossed the line.” She then asked about any other people who might also have issues with JT, like old neighbors, former or present clients, old boyfriends. JT answered as best she could.
When Tate seemed satisfied that she had enough information, she and her male partner stood. “Okay, we’ll be in touch. In the meantime, you be careful. If anything else happens, or Mr. Anthony’s brother gets a line on that virus, call.”
“I will.”
JT walked them out, then looked over at Reese. His face was set like stone. “Why don’t you leave town for a few days while the Bureau works the case?”
“No.” Now tha
t the initial shock had worn off, she was angry.
“Jessi—”
“No. I’m not going to be intimidated, at least not yet, and besides, I can’t leave. The preseason starts this weekend, and if I don’t show up, my people might start believing I really am in rehab.”
“What if whoever this is makes a move?”
“I have my nine-millimeter, the FBI, and I have you.”
He smiled. “Yes, you do.”
“I’m not dumb enough not to be scared, Reese, but I want to know who’s threatening me. If I leave town, I might never know.”
That made sense to him, but the urge to wrap her in cotton and keep her safe in his pocket was strong. “Okay, but you need to let those mountain men of yours know what’s going on so they can have your back too.”
That was already on her list of things to do in the morning. She’d call D’Angelo and Jason first thing. They’d pass the word to the others. She yawned and stretched. It had become an even longer day.
“So do you want to go to the hotel or stay here?”
She didn’t know, but she did know she didn’t want to be alone. “You choose.”
“Hotel. Better security.”
“Once a cop, always a cop.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Jessi.”
“And neither do I.” She lived in a gated community. No one could enter without the proper codes, and there was a valet on duty 24/7, but there were no armed guards patrolling the place. The idea that she might be at risk in her own home was a reality. “Let me throw some stuff in a bag and we’ll go.”
Reese nodded and with concerned eyes watched her head to her bedroom.
He was angry too. The sight of her ashen face as she’d handed him the letter would stay with him a long time. He never wanted to see her that way again. He also wanted to get his hands on the perp. Could Garrett be behind it? In reality, it could be anyone. But who? And why was the big question. Was the perp just trying to scare her, or intending to go through with the threat? There were too many unknowns for his liking.
She returned with a fancy designer satchel in hand. “When are you flying back to L.A.?”