“Hiya, kids.” George poked his head out the window.
Marge kept her hands on the wheel.
Lexi stayed within Tripp’s hold, her heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon. “What’re you guys doing here?” Under her palm, Tripp’s heart drummed like hers.
“We wanted to let you know we’re moving out tonight before the movers come. They’ll handle everything. So, in case you need a place to stay, it’s all yours, Mr. Fox.” George tipped his hat in Tripp’s direction.
“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary,” Tripp said.
“We left clean sheets an’ everything … if you get my drift.” George recoiled as Marge whacked him with the back of her hand.
She leaned over him toward the open window. “Don’t listen to him, you two. The whole place is yours … if you want it.”
From the back seat, both the dogs howled their agreement.
“Ms. Fergs, are you sure you should be driving?” Lexi dared not get close to the car or let them know they had only foot transportation.
“I’m fine, dear. Use it or lose it, right?” She winked in Tripp’s direction. “Gotta keep up my skills. Marge craned her neck as if looking at the stars through the windshield. “You two take care now. We’ll see you … again one day.” Marge lowered herself back in front of the wheel and adjusted the gear shift with a massive grind of the engine.
George saluted as the car jerked, bucked and kicked up gravel.
“She’s an old, lead-footed driver with bad vision.” Tripp’s description couldn’t have been more right.
Lexi extracted herself from Tripp’s hold as a laugh bordering on hysterical took hold of her. She clutched her waist, wishing for a moment alone to calm down. “The whole Mrs. Magoo thing struck me.”
“Okay, funny, yes. But I’m not seeing humor in death-by-super-old-folks in a giant Buick.”
She reached with one hand, found his arm but continued her spurts and fit of giggles. “I’m sorry.” Another bout hit her. “I could see us, splattered against the fence between it and their car. The explanations to follow would confound even the most expert investigator.” She broke into another hiccup of laughter. “I mean, come on. How is anyone going to explain their age, vivacity and that they still drive? I still don’t know how old they are, but they’re like those people who go on and on, and you thought they were old when you were, like, five. Or ten. You know?” Lexi pushed the back of her hand against her mouth to prevent further interruption.
Tripp threaded his fingers through hers, pulling her to him. “For a moment, I thought we might have had the shortest relationship on the planet.”
They finished their walk, reaching Lexi and Emma’s house—her Mini Cooper sitting in the driveway.
“We might still.” Lexi kept her voice light as she rummaged through her bag for her keys. “Dammit.”
Tripp whirled around. “What’s wrong?”
“My house key is gone. What the hell did they talk about with good ole George and Marge while we were outside?”
She beeped open the hatch with the intent to search the car in case Emma left her one inside but instead found two suitcases and an envelope tucked within the handle.
“I take it one of these is yours.” She slid the letter out, angling her head toward the bags.
“You would guess right. Now the bigger question is why are they here?”
Lexi scanned Emma’s handwriting, snorting a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?” Tripp leaned over her shoulder.
“Apparently, she took my house keys. Probably figured I’d find a way back here without you.” Lexi held the envelope between two fingers, her hand on her hips. “Emma’s prepared to super glue us together, I think.”
“Really? Why?”
She struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. “You saw my ex, right? From my perspective, he was done and gone. But he’s one in a line of … oh, I don’t know … all of them. I just don’t do well with … relationships, and Emma knows that. This is her sneak attack on me. My own sister. Of all things.”
“Neither do I—”
Lexi waved the envelope in the air. “Emma knows this about me. It took a full year for me to even
decide
to try something new once I had the idea. Then I meet you … nearly get accosted … you get shot … you leave … you show up—” She spun in a circle, pulling at her hair. “This is all too much for me. I thought I could handle it—that George and Marge were right. But, dammit, I want the simplicity back.”
“Don’t you know that’s what leads to boredom? You had simple, and you were running toward something else. You proposed an idea to me tonight: that we work together. Let’s start now. Let’s get in your car, ditch the house, your sister, my friend and just drive. I have a job a few hours from here—the retrieval of some papers.”
“Why do you need to get them?”
“Because the man who has them, or supposedly does, claims he doesn’t, and he owes them to some partners who need them to challenge his position—”
“Why are people all so antagonistic?”
Tripp took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Your eyes sparkle when you get mad.”
Lexi force her smile away. “See? Sometimes, I want to keep my mad. It’s a southern thing.”
Tripp barely held his grin in check. “Of course it is. Now, Miss Shepherd. How about that deal? We get away from here—just the two of us. I’d planned to steal you for myself when we were at the beach, anyway. So, let’s go.”
Her curls bounced as she whipped her head to the side. “Drive away from here? Go away and leave?” The letter in her hand dashed lines through the air. “For how long?”
Tripp laughed. “You need to know, don’t you? Go with the flow on this, Lexi. Let me show you a little bit of fun.”
11
Lexi slammed the hatch into place. The keys arced through the air, landing in Tripp’s hands with a clink. “You drive.”
“But what about this?” He pointed to his arm.
“You managed to get it around me, so I think you can start moving it more.”
If Jill had been the one he’d asked, the mother hen in her would have popped out and put him to bed with a blankie and his favorite toy. He ripped the sling off.
“Careful.” Lexi massaged her arm. “I didn’t say go run a marathon or hang from monkey bars, just start using it.”
Tripp slid onto the soft leather seat, making his adjustments one by one. “You sure you’re okay with this idea?”
“Not on your life, but let’s go.” She patted the dash.
The engine hummed beneath him. Unlike his Jaguar, which rumbled and vibrated until it settled, the Mini’s quiet suited the tiny four-seater.
“So what are these papers?” Lexi asked.
“I have details on my phone.” He reached for his pocket with the wrong arm, cursing under his breath.
Lexi winced. “Maybe I should drive.”
“Give me a sec.” He breathed through the extension of his arm, stretched and returned it. The slow motion helped, and once unfolded, neither complained. “Okay. I think I’m good.” Within the confined space, Tripp opted to retrieve his phone with his uninjured arm. “Here—scroll to the second page, third app.”
He backed them out and looked to Lexi for direction, realizing he had no idea how to get out of town.
“Go left at the stop sign. Hang a right on the main road and follow the signs for the freeway.” Her finger slid across the phone’s screen. An Article of Partnership appeared, grew, shrunk and disappeared. “These papers and the images are really clear. You know where they are?”
He shifted. “I have a vague enough notion.”
“I should be able to pinpoint them.” She tapped the screen. “Seeing them helps the most—you know that whole ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ deal. But I can go by description, sometimes.” She shifted toward him. “Want me to look them up?”
“How’d you find that?” Tripp lifted the pendant from her chest, his fingers skimming her skin through her blouse.
“Picture. The man who hired me couldn’t describe the interior pattern, so like the moron that he was, he sent me to his wife who described it in vivid detail and sent a photo along with other paperwork to prove it was hers.”
“That was very stupid on his part.”
“I know.” Lexi’s eyes widened, but reflected an inner excitement. “Still don’t know why she told me to keep it—”
“No shit.
Keep
keep it?”
She saluted with two fingers at her temple. “Like I told my sister … yup.” Lexi fell back against the seat. “Now, for these, let me see.”
She flipped through the images a few more times, stopping for a couple seconds before she moved on to the next. Her body relaxed into a rhythm Tripp could gauge only with a series of small jiggles and hums that could have been the car jostling as he took them onto the highway
“Where did you say this was?” she asked.
“I didn’t.”
“You want to see if I can really find it. Fine. These are in a safe in Savannah. I’m getting pictures of a hotel, but not a big chain, something more home grown. I’m not seeing a sign yet—”
“Can you give me an exact location?”
“Not yet. I’ve got a visual and sense for it. It’s not always perfect—how I see images that is. I have to move through them, back out of them and sometimes they’re more like movies than flat two-dimensional imagery. The closer I am, the more precise I can get.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, and you … I can’t find you. I get right up to a spot where I think you are, and all distinguishable elements go off camera, so to speak. Like I know you took the pendant, and I saw what I presume now was your pocket, but not your face or anything.”
“Well that’s sort of how it works for me, too.”
“Pissed me off, is what it did.” She smiled. “Explain it to me.”
“Explain what?” He maneuvered into the right lane, pressed the accelerator to eighty. Even with his ability to travel at whatever speed he chose, the hours would still loom.
She turned her attention from his phone to him. “How you can get away with everything …”
He grinned. “It’s different based on the circumstance—like hiding something right under someone’s nose, you know? People don’t look at what’s immediately in front of them.”
“Tunnel vision?”
“Exactly. Plus I have a very innocent looking face.”
She laughed, jumping when the phone vibrated in her hand. “I believe this is for you.” The set of her eyes and slight purse of her lips told him the caller did not make her best friend’s list.
“Dammit,” Tripp said.
“Don’t answer it.”
It buzzed again.
“She’ll call back repeatedly until I do.”
“If she doesn’t matter to you anymore, then turn off the phone.”
“How will Ian get in touch with me?”
Lexi crossed her arms, tapping a finger on the top of another. “I thought this was a you and me adventure, Tripp. Are we bringing more people along with us, or do we get to leave it all behind? I mean, tell me, ’cause I really want to know.”
The phone buzzed with a second call from the same number.
“I could make her go away—”
“I thought you already did.” Her tone reeked of disappointment.
“Well—”
“What?” The screech pierced his inner ear.
He kept his bad arm on the wheel, used the other for cover. “Dammit, Lexi.”
“What in the hell did Ian tell her? Because I don’t break up engaged couples. Ever. It’s at the top of my ‘no’ list. Plus, I believed you when you said you weren’t a cheater. What would you call what you’re doing now, then?”
The phone buzzed for the third time. He zipped the window down, extended his hand beyond it, and returned with nothing within his palm. “Now there’s no chance she’ll find me. You can rest assured my relationship with her is finished, even if she didn’t agree with our separation.”
“By how much?”
“The same amount as her proposal of marriage and my non-acceptance of it, too. I told you I took care of it. She just has her own ideas about what to accept. I can’t be held accountable for that, can I?”
Lexi laughed, a full, complete and sweet sound. “You could have just blocked the number.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens. That was supposed to be a show of solidarity.”
“Instead it came out a mite idiotic.”
Tripp grinned. “They’re often one and the same.”
• • •
Despite her claim as a night person, Lexi’s head slumped forward as Tripp pulled into the service station. Since she remained asleep, he got out, pumped gas and dug through his suitcase. A moment later, he locked the doors and sauntered into the store alone. Floor cleaner and overcooked hot dogs hit the back of his sinuses as the bell dinged, signaling his entrance.
“Mornin’.” The man behind the counter looked eighty at the youngest, covered in wrinkles and a scruffy two-day beard.
“Hi.” Tripp inclined his head toward the man.
“Where ya headed?”
“Savannah.”
“Nice town. Lovely, lovely.”
Tripp smiled. “Keep an eye on the lady in the car for me?”
The man’s scrawny head turned toward the window as if on an old conveyor belt, making its way back even slower when Tripp laid a twenty on the counter. “You goin’ somewhere, son?”
“I just gotta make a phone call.” He waved his cell. “Don’t want to be interrupted. You know, just in case she wakes up.” He started to direct the man back out to Lexi, but figured the action would add another five minutes to the stop given how slow the man moved. “Just … uh … tap or whistle or something if she wakes up. Okay?”
A slow nod followed as an even slower smile made its way to the surface. “Gotcha. Don’t be doin’ nothin’ you’ll regret now.”
Tripp kept an eye on the car as he made his way to the bathroom. He sighed, reached for his phone and flipped it on. It buzzed with voice mail messages, unread texts and an influx of email.
Rather than sit on the somewhat clean toilet, he leaned against the wall, stretching his legs as he played the first message.
“Tripp? This is Jill—”
“Of course it is,” he said to himself.
“Where are you? Why did you leave New York? Call me, please. We have a wedding to plan, honey.”
The second message also came from Jill.
“Tripp, I’m getting so worried. Ian hasn’t called me back. For all I know you guys are dead and this cell phone is sitting in some ditch somewhere. Send me a text or email or something, please.” Her voice crescendoed to a whiney end.
The third message registered from Ian.
“Man, call the bitch off. Tell her I do not want to talk to her. You need to set the record straight. I mean, geez. You’re with Lexi, right? You better as hell be since I had to go along with fruit loop’s plan to force you two together. Though I gotta say, she’s kinda hot. Might have to—” His message cut off as if it ran out of time, but Ian, too, called back. “Just call Jill and say these words. It. Is. Over. Got it? No breaks. No we’ll talk later. Over. Plain and simple. And where the hell are you? Emma’s pacing the room like a rabid animal. She expected Lexi would’ve called her after dinner or when you guys got home, but then she called me all freaked out when you didn’t.”
Tripp chuckled. Spontaneous trips didn’t lend themselves to appropriate communication. Despite the hour, he punched in Ian’s number.
“Why?” A slow, sleepy voice answered on the fifth ring.
“You stayed at her house, didn’t you?”
“Oh, man, Emma is pissed. She’s ready to tear into you and probably will if you show up here again. Where are y—”
“An hour north of Savannah. We decided to take a little solo time—”
“For the papers?”
“Yeah. Lexi’s pretty sure she knows where they are, though I do have the address, and I’ll get ’em. We’ll hang for a bit and be back Monday, latest.”
The scratch of a hand across a stubbled cheek came through the ear piece. “How do you intend to work with one good arm?”
“Same way I do everything, man.”
“In other words, wing it?” Ian’s snort caused Tripp to laugh.
“Yeah. Pass the word on to Emma, alright? I gotta make one more call.”
“Wait. Lexi’s not with you now, is she?”
“No, I’m in the bathroom at a convenience store. She’s in the car asleep. Oh, and she thinks I threw my phone out the window, so if you can’t catch me for the next couple of days until I replace it, that’s why.”
“Playin’ with fire, man. Though that’s probably better than ice, which is what I’ve been dealing with since you guys didn’t show up.”
“Man up, Ian. Grow some balls. I think you can handle her sister for a couple of days.”
“You’re one to talk. Wait until that one snags you for good.” Ian clicked off before Tripp could rebut the comment.
His fingers clicked across the numbers, hesitating on the last one. He steeled himself with a deep breath, adjusted the volume down and pressed.
“Tripp!” His mother’s screech pierced his eardrum. He and Ian had popped in on their way out of New York—long enough to set the worry flags in motion. “Where are you? Why did you leave? Did you go back to Jill’s?”
“I’m okay. No need to worry. And no.”
“It’s my job. You’re not all healed, you’ve got that fiancée—girl in New York.” Every time she mentioned Jill’s name, her tone turned defensive. His mother had patently refused to buy a dress for the wedding, though she did say if he showed up, she would too, and his mom never broke a promise.
“She’s not my focus right now.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His Mom would bite her lip to withhold further comment. “Why didn’t you tell me you had work outside of New York? I thought you were giving your arm another week.”
He swallowed the groan. “Something came up. Ian’s not with me right now, so don’t bug him. He won’t be able to help. As for Jill—”
“Tripp Fox.” Her mother-knows-all tone bit at him.
“Now’s not really a good time for me. We can talk more when I get back up your way, all right?”
“Okay.” Her sigh reflected both her worry and the late hour, though she, like Tripp, often stayed up well into the early morning hours.
“Go to sleep. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“G’night, baby. I love you.”
“Yeah, goodnight, love you, too.”
After a quick check of his email, he pocketed his phone, cracked the door open and stepped into the candy aisle. The old man, his eyes closed, had either fallen asleep in his chair or took a really long time to blink.
“Who were you talking to?” Lexi stood outside the door, leaning against the hinges, one brow raised, arms folded across her chest, her cell in her hand.