Merry held his eyes. Then his face went funny in a way Layne couldn’t read but the only way he saw it was fear.
“I’m givin’ you a bonus,” he whispered and Layne felt his chest squeeze as he waited for Merry to go on. “Those wounds she’s got, they bleed and they bleed deep. Only once did those wounds dry up and that was for three years, twenty-one years ago.”
Layne closed his eyes.
He opened them again when Merry spoke and he saw Merry was standing, coffee cup in his hand.
“You heal her again, Tanner, you got my eternal gratitude,” he whispered then smiled, it was small and it was shaking. “And I’ll throw in my Harley.”
Then without another word, he left Layne’s office.
Layne turned his head and, on the monitors, he watched Merry walk down the stairs.
Then he sat back in his chair and rested his head on the back of it to look at the ceiling.
He closed his eyes.
Then he made a decision.
He grabbed his phone, flipped it open and called the management office at The Brendel, identified himself as Rocky’s boyfriend and told them to get their security firm to her apartment to set up the sensors and change her locks. They demurred, he convinced them.
Then he disconnected, scrolled down his phonebook and hit go on Devin Glover, a PI he’d worked a variety of cases on a variety of occasions in a variety of locations. Dev was long in the tooth; he was a spy during the Cold War; he taught Layne everything he knew that was worth knowing; and he was the best friend Layne had ever had.
When he disconnected from Dev, he texted Rocky. “Sensors will be set up. Contacting you. I’ll be there when they do it.”
He was in his SUV, navigating his development when his phone chimed.
Rocky’s text, “Fine. I’ll let you know.”
He drove to his house, parked in his drive but didn’t bother with the garage door.
His text back, “My place. Tonight. 6. T is making Hamburger Helper.”
He was walking across the cul-de-sac to Natalie’s house when he got her quickly returned text.
“Sorry, papers to grade. Tomorrow. Six.”
He smiled at the phone, flipped it shut and lifted his fist to knock on Natalie’s door.
He checked it because it swung open before he could connect.
“Hey Tanner,” she smiled.
“Natalie,” he smiled back. “Got a second?”
She moved back, opening the door.
Layne walked in.
*
“You set up?” Layne said into the phone.
“Your couch in your office is shit, boy,” Dev said back.
“I offered to put you up at a hotel,” Layne reminded him.
“Hotel beds are shittier than your couch,” he shot back.
Dev would know, he’d slept on enough of them.
“Tomorrow night, at dinner, you meet Rocky, you’ll quit your bitchin’,” Layne told him. “And once I introduce you to the boys, you can have the couch in the living room.”
Dev could be intense, his mood always unpredictable and Layne was working, not around to run interference during an introduction to Jasper and Tripp and he didn’t want Dev showing up at the house and doing something, which Dev would do, and freaking out his sons. So he left Mimi the key to his office and gave Dev his security codes.
“She a looker?” Dev asked, his curiosity piqued. Dev was sixty-four years old and still a ladies man.
“You remember Eva?” Layne asked.
Silence for a beat then, with disbelief, “Better?”
“Oh yeah,” Layne answered.
“Fuck, boy,” Dev muttered then disconnected without a good-bye.
Layne threw his cell on the seat next to him. He’d just sealed the deal on his latest case and he’d been right, it hadn’t taken long, less time than he expected. He just had to pull together the file, hand it over, send the invoice and get paid and he was glad to be rid of it. It was sucking all his time. Billable hours but, with all the stuff raining down on him and Rocky, he needed to be shot of it and was pleased as fuck he was.
The entrance to his development was coming up on his right but he didn’t indicate. He’d called Jasper earlier to tell him to set up pasta bake for Keira on Tuesday but they were on their own that night and he’d see them in the morning. He also shared he was spending the night over at Rocky’s because her security was shit. Jasper didn’t ask questions but, after informing him of this fact, Jasper’s voice took on a “you the man” tone.
Layne looked at the clock on his dash. It was after midnight and he reckoned Rocky wouldn’t be real fired up to answer her door to him at that hour.
Or, possibly, any hour.
But he couldn’t give a fuck. He’d sleep on her couch tonight. Tomorrow and for as long as it took, he’d work on getting in her bed.
Or Rocky in his.
And eventually both.
He was just passed the entrance to his development and about to flip his indicator light on to take the left into Rocky’s complex when he saw a Mercedes of her make, model and color pull out in front of him and when his eyes swept the plates, he saw it was hers.
“What the fuck?” he whispered, moved his fingers from the indicator, kept a distance and followed.
His eyes went back to the dash. Twelve oh nine. Where the fuck was she going at twelve oh nine?
He followed her into town, she turned left on Green, he trailed her and drove passed her when she turned into the Christian Church parking lot.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, now knowing what she was doing out at twelve oh nine. He swung the next left, continuing to mutter, “Rocky, baby, I find you lookin’ for trouble, I’m gonna turn you over my knee.”
Layne rounded the church and blacked out his headlights as he took the alley and entered the church parking lot from the back. He saw her Merc parked in the far corner under a tree. At least she’d parked smart, with the tree shrouding her car from light and her vehicle being black, you had to be looking to see it.