Silenced by the Yams

CHAPTER Thirteen

I wasted no time—Colt was number two on my speed dial and boy, did I need to get to him speedy quick.

He picked up on the second ring. “Keep your pants on, lady, I’m almost there.”

“Abort, abort!”

A momentary silence on the other end spoke volumes. “I’m losing my patience with you, Curly. What’s the problem?”

“Howard. He sent a text—he’ll be home any minute. Where are you?”

“Just getting off the toll road.”

“Go to your place, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Honey, if I go home, I’m going to bed.”

“No, you need to call Guy Mertz.”

“No, I need to sleep.”

I gave him Guy’s cell phone number. “Find out what’s so urgent, then you can sleep. We’ll reconnect as soon as I manage a few minutes away from Howard.”

“Will there be reunion sex?”

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sweet . . . dreams.” He clicked off and a dial tone buzzed in my ear. At the very same moment, I heard my front door open.

I slipped the phone back into my purse and rounded the corner to find an empty foyer. I took the stairs two at a time and entered our bedroom just as Howard was pulling his t-shirt off. For a forty-six year old man, he still had a sexy chest and well-defined abs that made me want to jump all over his bones. I had to remind myself that I was still mad at him for excluding me from his decision to retire. But then again, I hadn’t told him about my mother taking his mother pole dancing, so we’d be even soon enough.

Poo.

“Hey, handsome,” I said. “Nice to have you home again.”

His posture told me he was exhausted, but he offered a faint smile anyway and pulled me in for a slow, deep kiss that started on the lips but moved to that part of my neck that makes my toes curl and other body parts tingle. When his hands slid under my t-shirt I was way beyond tingly and gave way to the fact that not only was I going to be enjoying some really fine reunion sex, I was getting a momentary reprieve from telling him about Mama Marr. Two for the price of one. And we could always talk about his retirement at another time. What was done, was done, right? I smiled and melted in his arms.

As we fell on the bed, he whispered in my ear. “I can’t stay too long.” He kissed my neck some more. “I’m only home for a nap and a change of clothes.” The kisses moved downward. And downward.

“This doesn’t feel like a nap,” I moaned.

He continued kissing.

Then I gasped, because . . . well . . . you’ll just have to use your imagination on that one.

***

I don’t know how long we’d been asleep when Mama Marr lumbered into our room asking for a heating pad. Fortunately, it was still dark, because we were both buck naked.

“Mom!” Howard shouted, throwing a sheet over himself. “What are you doing?”

“My muscles, they are so tight achy. You have a heating pad or water bottle maybe?”

“Please,” Howard pleaded, “can you just leave a minute while we—”

“Why, are you undressed? This is nothing I have never seen before, you know.”

Mortified, I curled up in a ball until Howard was able to convince his mother to go back to her room and close the door behind her.

He fell back and groaned when she’d gone. “What does she need a heating pad for anyway?”

Oh well, so much for not telling him about the pole dancing. When I was done relaying the sordid details of the hospital visit, his reaction was just about what I expected it would be: stony, brooding silence.

“So,” I said finally, needing some discussion, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m wondering what the hell your mother was thinking.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I cleared my throat, “Mama said she was having fun.”

He pointed at me. “Your mother is as bad as you.”

“Hey, what does that mean?”

“The two of you are always getting into some kind of trouble.”

Again, what do you say to someone who speaks more or less the truth? I was desperate for a good comeback. I was pretty sure I had one. “Well, what about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“When were you going to tell me that you were retiring?”

His chocolate brown eyes bored into me. Tense silence filled the room. I had him.

“I’m taking a shower. Would you get her the heating pad please?”

Truthfully, I didn’t have it in me to enter an argument with Howard just then. I’d only pulled out the big guns because he insulted my mother. I insulted my mother all of the time, but I’m allowed. He had me in a mood while I dug through the linen closet looking for the heating pad to soothe Mama Marr’s tight muscles.

After settling her in our reclining chair with a cup of chamomile tea and the pad on low heat, I scrambled back upstairs. It was five thirty in the morning and I’d had about four hours of sleep. I pulled the toilet lid down and sat while Howard shaved in the steam-filled bathroom. The towel around his waist covered his butt cheeks, but didn’t hide their taut ripples. I had to smile. Even with wet hair and his face half covered in shaving cream, he was simply scrumptious to behold. I’d take a second tumble in the sack if he didn’t have to head back out. And if I wasn’t afraid Mama Marr might barge in and tell us we were doing it all wrong.

He must have glimpsed the smile from the corner of his eye as his rinsed his blade under the running water. “What?”

“Nothing.” I pulled my knees up. “Just enjoying the view.”

“You’re not mad then? I thought you’d be happy I was leaving the Bureau. You’re always complaining about the hours and how much you worry.”

“Of course I’m still mad. You’re just lucky you’ve got such a cute butt.” He was also lucky that I had a little teeny-weeny little secret of my own, so I couldn’t exactly jump down his throat. I rationalized that he’d understand once I proved Frankie’s innocence.

The steam was frizzing my hair, so I pulled it into a ponytail with a nearby scrunchy. “I am happy that I won’t have to worry about you anymore, I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I have been trying to tell you.”

“Like I tell the girls: trying isn’t doing.”

He nodded. “I think a part of me wanted the option . . .”

“Of not retiring?”

He nodded again.

Howard was never indecisive. “I think” wasn’t generally a part of his vernacular. I realized that this wasn’t about him being afraid to tell me. It was about him being afraid to admit it was time to move on. He was vulnerable. Men like Howard don’t like to be vulnerable. Suddenly I understood, and any anger I had felt washed right down the drain with his shaving cream.

“When’s the official date?”

“July 31st.”

Wow. That was only three weeks away.

We continued the discussion while he dressed. Sure, I had real concerns about his safety on the job, but we had bills to pay. Plus, Callie was going to be applying to colleges in just a little over a year and we would have to be coming up with tuition soon. Would his FBI retirement income cover everything?

He assured me that he’d already received several offers for civilian work in high tech security firms. The money would be almost double what he was making as an FBI agent. The work would be safer and he would finally have more free time for family.

How could I argue with that? In fact, it all sounded a little too good to be true. We kissed and made up before he headed downstairs to say goodbye to his mother. I sighed when I heard the front door close and I watched him from our bedroom window as he drove off in the sunrise.

I started a fresh pot of coffee while I showered and dressed, contemplating this new life we were getting ourselves into. For the first time since Sunday, I had completely forgotten all about Kurt Baugh’s death.

Then I picked up the morning paper and saw the headline:

“DC Police Find Key Piece of Evidence in Kurt Baugh Murder Investigation.”