Blind Trust Page 9

  “What are you doing?” I asked slowly, a foot from her.

  Her eyes dropped to my hands resting at my sides. She lifted her eyes back to me.

  “I don’t read body language,” I told her. If she wanted me to grab her, she was going to have to instruct me to do so.

  She stood and ran up the stairs to the doors to lock them.

  I turned to watch her come back as I leaned against the desk.

  The way she was, all silent and tempting, I thought she was going to want to take things slow. Maybe I would’ve gripped her thighs, lifted her up as she clutched my hips with her legs, gently laid her on her crowded desk as I kissed down her neck to her chest, then I would have dipped under her skirt to take off anything that would’ve blocked me from entering her.

  But no…

  She was yanking my belt off, ripping down my zipper, and forcing my pants down. She devoured me before I could lean off the desk far enough. She sucked me deep and jerked me off. She wouldn’t allow me to touch her. She was moaning and groaning and I hadn’t done shit to her yet. She was… actually, she was feeling pretty damn good.

  I ceased my complaining, enjoying her, trying to maintain composure while every time I tried to clutch her shoulder or knot my fingers in her hair, she smacked my goddamn hand away.

  “God dammit, Winter.” I clasped her desk tight in my hands. “You’re gonna suck the skin off my cock at this rate.” And maybe get jizz all over your face.

  “Shit,” I grunted as she took me deep and my phone chirped with a text. It never left my hand, so I didn’t have to interrupt her to grab it from my pocket.

  She groaned, irritated I began to focus on something other than her.

  “Shh,” I soothed, thrusting my hips, in a silent request she’d suck me harder. “It could be important. Keep going.”

  On a good day, Winter would walk off on me when I looked at my phone while we were in the midst of doing something. But this Winter—she was at work and didn’t look like she was going to be punching out until I did. I wanted to push my fingers through her hair, but she was all anti-touch-me.

  Grimmer: Found out who it was…

  Me: Rick?

  For some reason, I had to believe Rick was playing me. He was too perfect of a person and it was hard for me to like someone. It just came easy with him, like we were born to be friends. Hold it… that sounded a little off.

  Grimmer: Who is Rick?

  Me: No one. I’m in the middle of something. Just tell me who.

  So it wasn’t him. That was a relief because I really liked the guy. Plus, he’d gotten me something. I didn’t know what that something was. But I liked gifts.

  Grimmer: A woman. She works for Cohen, her name’s Valerie Harper. They have a major hit out on you. And saved you for last. Check on your mom ASAP. She’s at the top of the list with a checkout of today’s date.

  I stared at the message for a brief second, trying to remember why that name looked so familiar.

  “Kyle,” Winter called, still squatting. “What’s wrong? I’m not that bad. I’m actually not bad at all.”

  I pulled my eyes from my phone, looking down at her, then myself. Deflated…

  “I’m sorry, Winter,” I said, zipping up my pants and putting my phone in my pocket. “I gotta go.” I pulled her up and kissed her cheek. I don’t kiss on the mouth; it’s too personal, too significant.

  “Why?” She grabbed my hand as I was letting her go.

  “Something has come up. I’ll call you later.”

  I rushed home, texting Janet to go check on mom. She stayed closer to her than I did. Chrissy was supposed to be there with her today and if someone killed my mom and my niece… life was going to get ugly for Valerie Harper.

  I texted Janet following my request for her to check on mom.

  Me: Who the fuck is Valerie Harper?

  I was able to change my pants, grab my gun, and pick my phone up again by the time she texted me back.

  Arch: You know her… What happened with her? You two finally decide to be friends? ;)

  Fucking Valerie Harper… Spirit… She’s Spirit!

  I raced from my house to the parking lot behind my building where I had parked my truck. I got in, started it, and another text came through.

  I didn’t have time to look at it as I sped to my mom’s house, trying to avoid the police.

  My mom’s truck was in the drive and no other cars were around, nothing around the house looked out of place. I jumped out and rushed to the front door. It was partially cracked open and a violent panic dropped in my stomach.

  I slowly pushed opened the door and called, “Mom!”

  Getting no reply, I drew my gun, taking every step with precaution. If someone was here, by my yelling out, they knew I was here. And if they had a hit out on me, they also knew I didn’t play. They knew how good I was, they knew I was hard to take down, and they knew I would not hesitate to put a bullet between their eyes.

  I tried to listen to the house, but I couldn’t hear anything over my pounding heart.

  I crept through the living room. A soft sound came from behind the corner of the kitchen.

  I came from behind the wall, gun aimed, and ready to fire, yelling, “Drop it!”

  As I was coming from around the corner, my niece, Chrissy was turning around. She saw me with my gun aimed and dropped her pouch of applesauce on the floor, her hands raised in the air to surrender, her mouth opened wide, and tears filling her eyes.

  I quickly put my gun away, pulling my shirt over it so it would no longer be visible. I rushed over and knelt down in front of her. I signed as I said, “I’m sorry I scared you. Why was the door open?”

  She signed, “I’m not sure. Grandma is out back.” She wiped her eyes, drying her face.

  “Okay,” I signed and said. I can’t help but talk as I sign. It helps me make sure I’m signing what I’m trying to say.

  As I rose, she grabbed my arm. I waited, watching her hands and mouth move though no sounds escaped her lips. “Have you talked to my father?”

  I shook my head. “No, but he will call soon.” Nixon always makes sure he calls Chrissy when he can. “I’m going to find your grandmother, okay?” I signed and said.

  She nodded and picked up her pouch of applesauce, which hadn’t spilled one drop.

  Chrissy couldn’t hear and didn’t speak. She was seven. As a baby, she could hear; I remember being with Nixon and her mom, Catherine at the hospital and the nurses came in with big smiles, explaining that all the tests went well. But some months later, her hearing faded.

  I swept the house, searching for my mom. It wasn’t until I heard something from the garage that I looked outside.

  I ran from the back door to the shed. “What are you doing? Put that down.” I took a box that was bigger than she was from my mom’s hands. “Get out of here. All this dirt and dust can be dangerous for you.”

  She wiped her hands on her shirt. “I’m looking for that box that had all those children books. Chrissy’s read all the books in the house and she needs some more.”

  “Chrissy is in there by herself and the front door was open. I’m yelling through the house calling you, not getting a response. I had my damn gun aimed at her because she scared the hell out of me. You scared the hell out of me. God, Mom! I almost killed my niece.” The more I reran what happened in my mind, the angrier I got. “Go in the house. I’ll find the books.” Why would she leave the damn door open?

  “What did you tell Chrissy? You probably scared her, poor baby,” she cried, running from the garage back into the house.

  I leaned against the deep freezer near the door, trying to finally relax and gather my thoughts. It took minutes for my heart to stop racing. I dug in my pocket for my phone, then realized I had left it in the car.

  Mom was fine. No one was here. She did crazy stuff like that—leaving the front door open. She’d think she had closed it behind her but hadn’t. I always got on her about that because she kne
w better.

  I found the box she was looking for and went back into the house.

  “Mom, did anyone come by here?” I asked, setting the box of books by the back door.

  Chrissy silently cheered when she saw them, jumping up and down, shoving her balled fists in the air.

  I smiled and signed as I said, “You love to read, right?”

  She grinned and signed with exaggeration, “I love to read.” Her eyes opened a little wider, appearing hopeful before I knew her request. “You’ll read me a story?”

  I rose my brows and widened my eyes so she’d see my excitement. “Of course I’ll read you a story. Pick a good one. I’ll be waiting in the living room for you.”

  She happily nodded.

  I left her to shuffle through the box of books.

  “Mom,” I called, watching her inject herself with a needle to her thigh. I turned away and waited for when I thought she should be finished. After something hit the table, I turned back. “Did someone come by here today?”

  She wiped her mouth after drinking from her glass of water. I watched her prepare to answer my question. Whatever medicine she had taken slowed her down. Mom was getting old. The greys were sprouting from around her edges and it was either old age or her sickness that had her hands shaking.

  I started feeling bad for yelling at her about the door. It was important to me for their safety but was probably the last thing on her mind while bringing Chrissy in the house.

  Before a peep could leave her mouth, I said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mom.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re always worried.” The medicine also calmed her down; usually she’d be yelling back at me. “We did have a visitor. A beautiful young woman stopped by. She asked us about the neighborhood and wondered how I liked it.”

  My brows furrowed. “What was her name?”

  She tapped the table with her thumb. “Henley, Hazel, Hanna… I don’t know.” She threw her hand up.

  “Harper?” I offered.

  “No, not that.” Her eyes started to droop.

  “Can you tell me what she looked like?” I wanted to get just a little bit of information out of her. I hated to push, but I needed something. She didn’t want to put up surveillance so all I had was that damn alarm system.

  Mom nodded and clutched her stomach. “Do me a favor and make me something to eat, Kyle. The medicine is making me nauseous.”

  Chrissy came around to the kitchen and held up her book.

  I nodded and pointed to the living room so she could wait for me in there.

  She skipped to the living room and took a seat. I watched her smile as she flipped through the pages, happy she was about to be reading soon.

  I made mom a light meal of chicken breast and vegetables. And made sure she was okay. The medicine did this to her. It made her sluggish, drowsy, and too calm. I hated seeing her like this, and I’d never get used to it.

  Before sitting down with Chrissy, I grabbed my phone from the truck. It had rang twelve times and I had twenty-two texts. Texting Grimmer, I asked him to do a satellite scan over the house for plants or wires, to make sure the alarm system wasn’t hacked, and to do a monitoring over the house to make sure no one but the three of us were here. I couldn’t do a sweep like I wanted to with Chrissy here and mom getting drowsy. Grimmer quickly replied letting me know he was on it. Within minutes he sent another text telling me the house was clear.

  Spirit finally texted me back. I wanted to wring her neck. But instead of focusing on Spirit and the other texts and calls, I gave my full attention to Chrissy and read her this incredibly long picture book as I relaxed. The benefit was that it was a great story and had us both laughing.

  My mother’s house phone rang as we finished the last page. Nixon was the only one who rang the landline. He was the only reason we got a landline.

  At some point during the story, mom left for her bedroom, and I was sure the medicine had kicked her butt.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Kyle?”

  “Of course, what other man would be answering the phone?”

  “What is up? I haven’t talked to you in a few weeks. I heard you’re still ducking and dodging.”

  “Being a wanted man by all these ladies would have you under sheets too.” It was code for: Being on one too many hit lists would have anyone trying to stay under the radar.

  “Yeah well, you keep wrapped up. Don’t let those ladies get you clapped.”

  He kind of lost me with that. I didn’t know if we were still talking about the hit or actual ladies. But I responded, “I got it.” Because I did. For either situation. I always kept a rubber for my cock and I always had Paula on my hip. Well, she wasn’t on my hip all the time, but today she was pretty snugged.

  “Is my daughter there? Can you talk to Chrissy for me?”

  “Yes. Hold on, let me get her.” I waved in Chrissy’s direction, hoping to grab her attention.

  She looked up from the book.

  I signed to her and said, “Your father is on the phone.”

  She smiled big and jumped from the couch.

  “Tell me what she’s doing, Kyle. Tell me how she looks.” He sounded desperate. I don’t know when the last time he saw Chrissy was, but it was deep in his voice that he missed her.

  “She’s running from the couch smiling. When she smiles, her brown eyes spread wide and her cheeks kind of pinch. It makes it look like she’s smiling with her entire face. Her mom left her hair down, so it’s blowing behind her as she’s running over to me. She’s signing, ‘Father, father.’ Or it could be coming out, ‘Daddy, Daddy.’ She’s really excited.”

  “What did Catherine dress her in?”

  “Well it’s scorching here today, so she’s wearing these cute little sky-blue shorts that come down to her knees, a white tank with a group of girls on it, and some white shoes.”

  “Do the shoes have strings or are they slip-ons? You know, like little flats.”

  I twisted my lips and my brows creased. What an odd question. I took another glance at her shoes. “They’re little flats.”

  “Aww… I bought her those.”

  “Her little fingernails are polished pink. She’s signing, ‘Tell him you read to me.’ I’m signing back to her, ‘I just did.’”

  Nixon cleared his throat. “Ask her how the story was.”

  “I’m signing your question. She’s signing back, ‘It was so funny. I loved it. I love the way Uncle Kyle reads to me. He really gets into the story, like the way you do when Mom and I come visit.’”

  “Tell her I said I’m happy she enjoyed the story. I’d ask her to tell me what it was about but Chrissy is long-winded and you’d probably need to break for water.”

  I signed to Chrissy what he’d said and asked her to wait a second as I replied to his comment. “Nixon, if you want me to ask, I will. I don’t mind. I know how much this means to you. I’ll describe her facial features and everything just so you can get the entire picture. How much time do you have? Chrissy is long-winded.”

  “I’d really appreciate that. I have another twenty minutes. Give me more of the facial expressions, then do the story.”

  “Okay. I’m signing to her, ‘Your father wants to know what happened in the story.’ She’s nodding excitedly as she begins. Her face starts off like it’s mysterious, and it was. Her eyebrows are taut, her chin pinched, and her little nose is scrunched up.” I described everything to Nixon. When he responded to parts of the story, I signed to Chrissy what he was saying.

  She was excited to be talking to her father even though she wasn’t really talking to him. And it was the same for him. They didn’t share one word, but the excitement in Chrissy’s face and the happiness in Nixon’s voice had me picturing them in front of me, sharing this moment.

  “I’m going to go bye,” I signed to Chrissy. “Janet will be here in two minutes. Wait in the room with grandmother until she comes in. Do not go near the front or back door for anyth
ing. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she signed. “I will and will not go to the doors. I love you, Uncle Kyle. See you later.”

  I signed, “I love you too. Be good.” I kissed her head and waited for her to make it into mom’s room and close the door.

  I took a second to look over Valerie Harper’s text before I pulled out of my mom’s driveway.

  Spirit: Yes, I wasn’t feeling well.

  It was a reply to my text to her from earlier, when I asked if she left class early. I fumed in anger. She was playing me. There was no way she knew I knew about her. Even though Mom couldn’t describe her to me or remember her name, something told me it was she who had come by the house. I didn’t know what type of game she was playing, but I was determined to win it and, if necessary, take her out before she got me.

  As I pulled out of the driveway, Janet was pulling in. I could always rely on Janet to look out for our family.

  I drove back home thinking about how Spirit found me. I thought I had been doing a damn good job of staying under everyone’s radar. No one was able to find me. I was going to have to find out more about her and her agency.

  Knowing Grimmer had Mom’s house covered I was able to relax. I walked into my crib and headed for the shower. The phone buzzed.

  Rick: DO NOT STAND ME UP!

  Me: I am getting ready for you right now.

  Rick: Awesome, make sure you smell good and wear something nice. I want to struggle with it when I try to take it off.

  Me: Boxers…

  Rick: Briefs…

  Me: 30 minutes.

  I ended our conversation, putting a stop to our weird back and forth texts… even though I’d started it. I should’ve known he was going to take it that far.

  I slumped down on my couch, clutching The Clock Rounded 3ee against my chest. It was an extremely weird title for a book, but I went with it. It was one that had sat up on my shelf and I kept telling it, I’m going to read you tomorrow, I’m going to read you tomorrow. But more than a year’s worth of tomorrows had passed.

  I started reading, waiting for my clock to tell me it was ten p.m. I still needed a body.