02 Make It Weird
“Sorry,” she said as he pulled out her chair for her.
“Everything alright?”
“It is now. I ran into a friend.”
“Really? Here?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, it was a bit of a shock. That’s why it took a minute. So what did I miss?”
“Not a thing. You are actually right on time.”
Through four more courses, she relaxed and flirted and unlocked her body language and he replied in kind. It wasn’t hard. Her attraction burned real and he seemed to share the sentiment so all she had to do was breath and let it flow. His conversation skills kept her talking about her opinions on safe topics with the occasional stab at personal details that she could easily deflect. But he avoided relinquishing personal details as well, she noticed. Neither pushed any harder though.
They finished with a simple mousse on an artful plate that filled her with joy. As she savored each bite, she realized that she could date this man. She could spend time with him. Drink coffee with him and cuddle in a window seat after a simple breakfast on a rainy Sunday morning. They could walk down rain slicked streets, arm in arm and talk about the future.
But then none of this was real and the joy of chocolate melded with a certain bitterness at the fact that it could not be real. It had to be weird. She had to lie and he had to try and expose that lie and so it didn’t matter that he made her laugh and asked her opinion and made her feel safe. She needed to seduce him and pull her to his side or make him not care.
But now she didn’t want to. Now she wanted it to be real.
“Hey,” he said and she realized that her plate lay empty, her spoon next to it and her gaze had been cast downward.
She looked up and tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. He smiled anyway.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
Her eyes widened. The music playing still sounded of Portugal but the tempo had slowed to almost a tango with a light soft beat and drifting guitar.
“To this?”
He stood and offered his hand and she reluctantly joined him. He led her to the dim area of the room.
Slow dancing. Surely he meant slow dancing. She could do that.
But he turned suddenly. His hand pressed into her lower back and pulled her in tight. His right hand lifted her left and he smiled down at her.
This wasn’t slow dancing. He wanted to dance. He had her trapped against him. If he moved, she would have to move.
“I don’t know how,” she muttered. “I don’t know how to dance like this.”
He stepped to the slow beat and she instinctively moved with him.
“I beg to differ,” he said.
She suddenly realized her right hand still hung at her side. She lifted it to his shoulder.
“Let the music help,” he said softly. “And let me lead. You can let me lead, can’t you?”
She looked up into his dark eyes. “Maybe. For a minute.”
He moved them to the bass of the music, in a slow, deliberate flow, with little flourish and the occasional spin. She had to let the music have its sway and she had to let him lead. If she thought about it, she could feel a stumble or an awkward step waiting to happen but the music could carry her as she read cues from the turn of his body and the press of his hand or the push of his hip. Once again he had created a moment and she found herself fully immersed. Was it on purpose? Did she care? She needed the heat of his body and the friction the dance generated and the sensation of his breath at her temple and she had no idea that a man could smell so good. He gave her a half spin and pulled her close again for a few shuffling steps. A warm tingle bloomed in her lower belly and she had to resist the urge to grind into him. But then he spun her again and his face was right there. If she looked up, it would be a kiss.
But the song gently ended. And he held her and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze unfettered, allowing the slow burn in her middle rise up her spine to that tingle that demanded a kiss. His eyes held the same fire. She could have him. Easily even.
Which is what she wanted. That was the plan. To seduce him and muddy the waters.
Or was she being seduced?
“Thank you,” he said suddenly and took a half step back. He lifted her hand and kissed it gently. “I could not have asked for a better night. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
She could only nod. Anything she would have tried to say would have come out as a squeak.
*
It felt unfinished. The rush of tingles lingered and her chest felt thick as they drove home. He kept the conversation light and drifting and the music low, gently holding her hand for the contact without a drop of possessiveness. At a lull in the conversation he lifted her hand and kissed it again. More tingles. She had to get control but she didn’t pull her hand away.
They eased to a growling stop in front of the townhouse and she stepped out before he could get around the car to open the door. She looked up at the dark windows and checked the shadows.
How to do this? The pressing ache brought on by the dance still fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She just wanted him but she couldn’t just want him. She had to seduce him. So kiss him now? Or when? What would Honi do?
He escorted her up the walk to the door.
“I’ll have the dossier in your inbox early. I could run everything by your security team if you like but I think it would look better if you do it.”
“Thank you.” she said.
She stepped onto the landing.
“Would you consider-” he started but she turned and fell into a kiss. The landing was just tall enough to put them on even terms. He responded instantly, like he had been expecting it, putting his hand in the small of her back like they were dancing and pulling her tight against his body. They parted momentarily.
“Well,” he said and kissed her again. Her hand touched his face as though she had known him forever. Every part of her was melting into his arms until he pulled away.
“I need you to come in,” she whispered, her mouth still close to his.
He shook his head and then kissed her quickly again before stepping back. The void between them suddenly felt infinite.
“What?” she asked, blinking in the lingering heat.
“I won’t,” he said.
She blinked again. “You don’t want to?”
He stepped into her again and kissed her with even more passion and hunger and she could feel his erection pressing into her but he stepped away again. “I can’t.”
That void of longing appeared again, so pure it was almost painful.
“Why not?” she said, almost angrily.
“We had a deal.”
“Fuck the deal.”
He shook his head. “No. We had a deal and you have to trust me.”
“I can renegotiate the deal,” she said, through clenched teeth.
He took another step back. “Not yet. Please trust me.” Then he turned and walked to his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the office,” he said over his shoulder almost dismissively. She stared after him in disbelief.
That did not just happen.
The car purred to life and slinked into the night.
Shit, that just happened.
She stood on weak knees and watched the receding red tail lights until they disappeared around a corner.
What the fuck just happened?
Trust him?
She was burned. He was a cop. He knew everything. He wouldn’t sleep with her because that would kill the case.
Shit.
She turned and punched the code into the keypad to release the deadbolt. Once inside,she tore her phone from her clutch and texted Norman: “I’m burned. Scrub everything.”
Kicking off her shoes, she sprinted upstairs to the master bedroom
•
She called Honi who had just finished with the senator and arrived within minutes.
“You have to calm down,” she said as Susan stuffed clothes from the dresser into a large duffle bag. “There is no way he could know anything.”
“We don’t know that,” Susan panted, turning her attention to the closet. Her business suits hung neatly on hangers. She didn’t want to stuff them but she had to get any evidence and make it gone.
Her phone rang. Honi picked it up off the bed, checked the screen and answered it on speaker.
“Norman?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Does she really want me to scrub everything?”
Susan and Honi answered “Yes!” and “No!” at the same time. Then, Honi held up a finger at Susan.
“Norman, do you see any signals that anyone is closing in?” she asked.
“No, nothing. Everything’s quiet.”
“Scanners?”
“SWAT is on a drug bust on the south side near Evans. Two units are responding to a bar fight in Northside. Deputies are quiet with one checking in from the pancake house for dinner. That’s it.”
Honi lifted perfectly sculpted eyebrows at her. “See?”
Susan wasn’t satisfied. “Log in to the server at work.”
They heard keys clacking on a keyboard.
“Okay,” he said.
“You’re in?”
“Yup.”
She took a suit off the bar and prepared to roll it up.
“Check my access.”
More clacking. “Holy shit.” He muttered.
Susan was almost relieved. She rolled the suit up and stuffed it into the duffle bag.
“You are getting a promotion,” Norman said.
“What?” Susan took the phone from Honi who crossed her arms and smirked.
“Your clearance level was S-3. Now it’s S-2. That’s one level below the CTO. Hold on.” More clacking. “Payroll has a memo to move you up in salary too.”
“A raise?”
“I told you,” Honi said, spreading her arms wide and smiling. “Everything is fine.”
“It’s a trap,” Susan said.
“Oh my god,” Honi groaned.
“Think about it,” Susan said. “They know. But they are worried that I know that they know so they put me in for a promotion and a raise knowing that I have access to the server and that I would check.”
“That does make sense,” Norman said.
“Norman!” Honi shouted to the phone in Susan’s hand. “Not helping.”
“Sorry, but we haven’t made it this far without being paranoid,” Norman said.
“Exactly,” Susan snapped.
“But you are so close,” Honi said. “Just a little while longer and we own the asylum and then we are safe.”
Susan turned one way, and then another and then she sat on the bed exasperated.
“It’s a risk to show up to work tomorrow,” Norman said, his voice cracking slightly. “The scanners are clear tonight but they may arrest you when you walk in.”
Honi closed her eyes. “Seriously, Norman.”
“Hey sorry, really, I’m sorry. I’m gonna go. I’ll check the scripts and set another account for high level access in case they close the one we have.”
“That works,” Susan muttered. “Thanks, Norman.”
“I’m here if you need me,” he said. “Well, except for jailbreaks. That’s like really federal. But anything else. That doesn’t involve violence.”
Growling, Honi snatched the phone from her hand, ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.
“Safe,” Susan sniffed. “We can never be safe.”
“No, you can’t think like that,” Honi said, kneeling down in front of her. “You saved us, sweetie. All of us. You’ve given us a place to be and we just need a little more.”
“Honi, we tried.”
Honi shook her head and took Susan’s hands into hers. “We didn’t just try. We did it. Even if you quit tomorrow we are still so much closer to our goal than we have ever been. And we didn’t steal it and we didn’t hurt anyone. You just misrepresented yourself to a major multinational corporation with ties to black ops defense contracts. But you still did the work. You earned that money.
Susan wanted to cry. But she never cried. Still she looked up at her friend with tear rimmed eyes.
“Do you know how to make a martini?” she asked.
The doorbell rang.
Both women jumped to their feet and Honi stumbled back. Their attention went to the tablet on the nightstand. The tablet had an app linked to the security system in the house.
Honi raised a finger. “SWAT doesn’t ring doorbells.” she said.
They both took a step toward the tablet. Susan picked it up and hit the power stud. Honi moved to her side to see the screen. Susan navigated to the app and then selected the camera on the front porch. A green and white image bloomed to fill the screen. The camera looked down on Trajan, waiting with his hands in his pockets.
“That’s Adam Trajan,” Honi said incredulously.
Susan tried to fling the tablet to the bed but Honi caught it and held it up so that Susan had to look at it. “That’s Adam Trajan.”
Susan looked at the duffle bag, then the window, closed her eyes and calculated a path out the back door down stairs that may or may not be covered with cops.
“This is your consultant?” Honi said.
Susan stopped. “You saw us at the rest-” her thoughts froze “-at the-” she blinked as her memories buzzed. She shook her head. “You saw us earlier.”
“I saw you earlier, on the way to the bathroom.” She dropped the tablet. “I didn’t see who you were with!”
Honi paced from the closet to the bed, shaking her hands. “Holy shit we are so busted.”
“Wait,” Susan said. “How do you know Adam Trajan?” She put her hands on her hips, suddenly defensive. “Tell me he’s not a client.”
Honi shook her head. “His father is, Nicholaus Trajan. Owns half of downtown and then some. Oh my god, we are dead.”
The doorbell rang again and Honi stopped and stepped in place nervously, her hands balled into tight fists. “I am so sorry,” she said and dissolved into her fox shape, her empty clothes falling on her in a loose pile. She spun in a nervous circle twice clearing herself of the clothes. She yipped at Susan, fixing her with skittish, ice blue eyes set in silver fur.
“It’s okay,” Susan said. She knelt down and the silver fox set her paws into her hands. “Listen to me. There is an exterior door in the kitchen that has a doggy door. Get out and get home and keep Pappi calm. And do not tell Mr. Leeds anything.”
The fox yipped and dashed out. Susan stood up and surveyed the room again. Still nothing. No options. Cornered. She heard the doggy door flap and knew that Honi was at least outside.
She took a deep breath and ran through extreme escape routes and any other options. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not cops just doing the job. But she couldn’t go to jail. Pappi would destroy things. Mr. Leeds would eat people. Mahin might even do worse. No, she had to get away.
Another thought suddenly occurred to her. She grabbed the tablet from the floor, punched up the cameras and cycled through each location. Nothing. No police by the back door, no SWAT van by the curb.
Was he alone? Did he come back just for her?
The doorbell rang again and she watched him on camera turn and scan the street.
Or was he working for someone else?
Someone worse than the feds or the cops.
She navigated to the intercom. “Hold on, I’m coming.” she said to the tablet and she watched as he looked dead into the camera and smiled with glowing white eyes.
Creepy.
But she could take him. If she had to.
Tossing the tablet onto the bed, she grabbed her phone and headed out to the stairs and down, pausing halfway. She looked at the front door as she tucked her phone into her bra. She could make herself stronger or faster or a little of both. Usually it was better to pick one or the other. If she was going to run, she needed to be faster. If she was going to hurt him, she needed to be stronger.
Or she could talk to him. No one was with him. What if he really came back just for her?
She finished her descent and put a hand on the door knob. After one last deep breath, she opened it wide. She would need room to maneuver if this went bad.
He stood calmly, hands in his pockets, a slight, smug smile on his lips. She scanned the path, yard and street behind him for threats. It was just him.
Susan wanted to put a fist on her cocked hip and pout while saying, “Did you forget something?” in a sexy purr. But her current stance would allow her to snap kick his nuts into his throat if she needed to. He still looked her up and down like she was something to look at before speaking.
“I know that your name is not Susan Talford,” he said. “You are Ophilia Goodfellow and you help individuals that, under normal circumstances, would have nowhere to turn.”
She did not relax her stance. He looked her in the eyes for a moment, revealing nothing. Then he pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped them behind his back and glanced down before lifting his gaze to look into her eyes again.
“Ms. Goodfellow,” he said. “I need your help.”
