Countdown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Countdown

FERN MICHAELS

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Jack Emery could hardly believe that he was actually having a real face-to-face conversation with his wife and that she had cooked breakfast for the two of them. He pinched himself to see if he was alive and really sitting here. Cyrus seemed to be of the same mind because the big dog was pacing the kitchen.

The pinch hurt. Yep, this was real time, so that had to mean the wild, unbelievable night of sex had been real, too. Well, he could feed off that for a whole week if he had to, but right now he needed to pay attention to what Nikki was saying. God, how he loved this woman. He knew right then, right that very minute, that if she had asked him to run through fire for her, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. If she asked him to climb to the moon, he’d start to fashion a ladder that would take him there. Nikki was his life, his love, the reason he got up in the morning.

“Tell me, Jack. Was I wrong to fire them? I snapped when they tried to push the blame onto you, that you left everyone in the lurch with double the work. That was just a side issue on their part. The three of them want a partnership. I told them early on that was never going to happen. For crying out loud, Jack, you’re my husband, and I never made you a partner. Nor did I make Alexis one, and she’s like a sister to me. Say something, Jack.”

“I didn’t leave the firm in the lurch, Nik. You and I talked about my leaving, and you were okay with it. You’re the boss. Those three women were just associates. I read their contracts. What they did was unprofessional, and none of them have any grounds to bring a suit against the firm. I’d go to the wall defending your firm on that one. They just wanted to put you over a barrel, so you’d cave and make them an offer because you were under the gun. You called their bluff. As Myra is so fond of saying, everything happens for a reason. And you know if you need me for anything, I’m here for you. Having said that, it sounds to me like you have the situation well in hand.”

Nikki leaned across the table and reached for Jack’s hand. Her eyes were misty with tears. “You know I love you more than life itself. I am so sorry, Jack, so very sorry that I . . .”

“Shhh,” Jack said, placing his index finger against her lips. “You’d better get going, or you’re going to be late. I’ll clean up here, and let me say right now, those pancakes you made were better than any Charles made for us over the years. And before you can ask, no, there’s nothing on Charles.”

“I didn’t think there was. Thanks, Jack, for being so understanding. I promise I will work overtime to make it up to you. With all the new people coming on board, I can actually see daylight ahead.”

Jack walked his wife to the front door. He held her coat for her to slip into. Then he wrapped a warm scarf the color of a ripe melon around her neck.

Nikki turned and wrapped her husband in her arms. “Don’t ever for one nanosecond doubt my love for you.” Her tone was so serious, so fierce, Jack felt his insides start to shake.

Cyrus bounded into the room with such gusto the floor shook. He started to bark, the sound high and shrill. “I get it, Cyrus.” Nikki laughed. “We share him, okay?”

Cyrus let out a joyous woof and circled Nikki’s legs until she bent over to give him what Cyrus considered his daily dose of loving.

And then she was gone.

Cyrus sat on his haunches, panting, as he looked at his master to see what was coming next. “I think we’re back on track, buddy. If not, we’re on the way. It won’t be the end of the world if you have to sleep on the floor. You take up half the bed, you know that, right?”

Cyrus ignored him as he ran to the kitchen. If he pouted, he knew that Jack would let him lick the breakfast plates. And he’d spotted the half slice of bacon Nikki had left on her plate. For him. She always left a half slice just for him.

The minute he licked the breakfast plates clean, Cyrus ran into the family room to rummage through his basket of treasures for one to take to work. He heard Jack shouting from the kitchen, “Just one, Cyrus, not the whole damn basket.”

Jack looked around to make sure the kitchen was tidy before he turned off the lights. He checked the back door to be sure that the storm door was locked and the dead bolt in place. All he had to do was put on his jacket, set the alarm, and he and Cyrus were good to go. Oops, he’d forgotten to turn down the thermostat. He did that and, as an added precaution, checked to make sure the glass doors on the fireplace were closed, too, so that no dying embers would spark outward. Now, they were ready to leave.

Jack stood on the front stoop as he looked up and down the street for his tail. He didn’t see anything that looked suspicious, but he knew he or she was out there just waiting for him to get into his car.

A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night, and the day was overcast, typical December weather. As he let his gaze travel up and down the street, he noticed Christmas lights, garlands, and Christmas wreaths on several doors—a reminder that he needed to do some decorating himself. He made a mental note to call Yoko to order his tree and wreath. He hoped the Christmas spirit would invade his being sometime soon.

Twenty minutes later, given the heavy traffic, Jack waited for a break in the flow of cars, so he could make a left turn into the alley that would take him to the back door of the BOLO Building. He stopped short when he saw a gaggle of Asian men jabbering and pointing to him as they waved their arms every which way.

Jack lowered the window, and before he could ask what was going on, a little man with a snow-white beard said, “Harry sent us. Back up, park someplace else today. You pay half now. Okay?”

“Huh?” was all Jack could think of to say. Cyrus weighed in, howling his displeasure. The little man raised one finger and stared at Cyrus, who suddenly went silent. Jack thought the wise thing to do would be to follow instructions. As he did so he was texting Harry, who texted back:
PAY HIM HALF NOW
.

Jack parked at the Bagel Emporium, then crossed the street. His tail was going to be hard-pressed to find a parking spot. The thought pleased Jack as he walked along with Cyrus, who was clutching his tattered duck, which had only one leg and half a beak.

Back in the alley, Jack motioned for the little man to follow him. Inside, he asked him what he was doing for Harry.

“Iron gate. With electricity. Secret stuff. Pay half now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the pay now, but what about the other end of the alley?”

“We do that, too. Shop owner know you pay. They okay with iron gate.”

Cyrus looked like he was about to protest until the little man stared him down and pointed his finger at him.

Jack wrote out the check and winced at the amount but kept his cool. He escorted the man to the door, Cyrus beside him, the tattered duck clutched between his teeth. The little man bent low and whispered something in Cyrus’s ear. The duck fell to the floor, and, a second later, Cyrus had his two front legs wrapped around the little man in a dog-human hug. The man smiled, patted him on the head, and left.

“What the hell, Cyrus! I don’t even know that guy, and you’re hugging him! For all we know, he could be a terrorist. You should be ashamed,” Jack ranted.

Cyrus looked up at Jack as much as to say,
do you really think Harry would send a terrorist to ask for a check?
Realizing the absurdity of his statement, Jack bellowed, “All right, all right, I’m going to give you that one,” as he stomped his way into the kitchen, his cell phone in hand.

While the coffee dripped into the oversized pot, Jack listened to Harry explain that he thought it was imperative to secure the back end of the premises. He went on to say he’d spoken to the two shop owners who shared the alley space, and they, too, liked the idea of the electronic gate as long as they didn’t have to pay for it. He went on to say the work would be completed by the end of the day. Jack huffed and puffed, muttering something or other about how advance warning would have been nice. Harry hung up on him in mid-sentence. Harry was such a card.

Jack carried his coffee back to his office. He passed Abner’s room and saw that the red light was shining over the door, which meant Abner was hard at work. He walked right on by without missing a step. In all likelihood, Abner had spent the night here, probably the last few nights if he was any judge of his work ethic. When Abner had a mission, he had a mission, and he worked around the clock.

It was all Jack could do not to burst out laughing when he saw Cyrus’s battered duck on the seat of his chair—Cyrus’s apology for making friends with the little man. Jack set his coffee down on his desk, dropped to his haunches, and tussled with Cyrus to show there were no hard feelings. A treat was all it took for Cyrus, who snatched it and his duck, to race to the door to greet whoever it was that was entering the building. Jack grinned when he heard Dennis West greeting Cyrus with a routine he had established that made Cyrus go nuts barking.

Dennis, in one long burst of monologue, announced, “Ted and Espinosa are coming separately because Maggie had them chasing something down, and wow, what a neat idea to put those gates up, and the price isn’t all that bad—not that I know anything about wrought iron, but still ... And the other owners are in agreement, and I have some news to report. Do ya want to hear it verbally, or do you want a written report? And you know what else, I didn’t have a tail coming here. I checked, so I guess we threw them for a loop when I split off from Ted and Espinosa. What time did Abner get here?” Then Dennis wound down like a pricked balloon.

Jack blinked. “And you know all of this . . . how?”

“I asked. The rest is observation. Plus I saw your car parked at the Bagel Emporium. Remember that I’m an investigative reporter. You know what else—I lost seven pounds on that diet Harry put me on. You’re lookin’ good this morning, Jack. Guess you got a good night’s sleep. You were really looking peaked last week. That’s what my mother used to say to me when I was getting ready to get sick,” he mumbled as he started pulling papers and scraps of paper out of his backpack. “If you’re not too awfully busy, do you think you could talk to me about something on a personal level?”

This kid was going to drive him nuts. “Yeah, I did get a good night’s sleep. Sorry you thought I was looking . . . peaked. I have a few extra minutes. What do you want to do first, explain all those papers or the personal stuff?”

“Let’s get the personal stuff out of the way so we can really concentrate on what I’m going to share and show you. Okay, here’s my problem,” Dennis said, taking a deep breath. Jack steeled himself for what was to come. Cyrus appeared out of nowhere and took up a position next to Jack. He, too, was all ears.

“With this new weight loss and working out every night with Harry, I was thinking maybe I should finally make a move on this girl at the office because . . .”

Jack held up his hand for Dennis to stop. “Stop right there. You said girl. A girl to my mind is a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old. Girls giggle, chase boys, flirt, play tennis, tattle and wear ribbons in their hair and spritz way too much perfume on their persons. A young lady or a young woman is something totally different from a
girl.
Now, which is it?”

“Wow, Jack! I never thought of it like that. The guys are right; you do know everything there is to know about women. Okay, okay, she’s a young woman, and she dresses like a lady. I have a thing for her, but I get tongue-tied when I’m around her and I . . . I blush. I hate that I blush, and sometimes I stammer. She makes me hot all over.

“But the worst part of it is I think she has the hots for Ted. I’m not sure about that, though. I have myself halfway convinced that she flirts with him to make me jealous. I’m probably delusional. We always eat lunch together, and she manages to stop by my desk a few times each day. Sometimes she brings me a Nehi orange soda. But that could be wishful thinking on my part, and she’s just doing it because Ted sits next to me.

“I’m thinking when I take off the other fifteen pounds Harry said I had to lose, I’d make my move. Or maybe I should wait till I get a brown belt, which will probably be when I’m seventy, by which time I won’t even care. Women like that a man knows all those wild moves, Harry said. What do you think, Jack, what should I do?”

Oh shit
was what Jack thought. Jack cleared his throat. “Um, Dennis, have you had ... you know, any relationships?”

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever had sex? Well, yeah, but it was pretty much a disaster, and we both went running in opposite directions. You know, too quick, too fast, not enough ... oh, hell, you know what I’m talking about. And I wasn’t drinking either. Neither was she. It was ... it was ...
experimental.
”

I do not need this right now. I absolutely do not need this right now. I will not need this tomorrow or the day after tomorrow either,
Jack thought. He grappled with something to say that would come out sounding halfway right or what Dennis wanted to hear.

“Okay, listen up. Let’s go with the assumption that the young lady is indeed flirting with you and hopes to perhaps take it to the next level. As it stands now, she sees that you have some weight to lose so obviously that is not an issue for her. If I were you, I’d play it cool, lose the weight, prevail with Harry,
then
make your move. You’ll buy yourself some cool duds, maybe pierce your ear, get a kick-ass haircut, spring for one of those muscle cars, and see what happens. It’s a goal, Dennis, shoot for it. That’s another way of your knowing if she likes you as a person or the new improved version. By the way, does she know how rich you are?”

A look of awe spread across Dennis’s face. “My God, they were all so right; you do know everything there is to know about women. This is the proof. You should write a book on all that you know. I bet it would be a best-seller. Okay, I’ll do what you say. No, she doesn’t know I’m rich. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t talk about it and told the guys not to mention anything. I don’t think Maggie would blab it, but you never know about Maggie. Jeez, Jack, thanks. How can I repay you?”