One Night Stand (5 page)

"No, just the important stuff. Was he freaky? Was he big? Oh, I bet he was big."

"Anna! You're so raunchy."

"Whatever. I am not the only raunchy one. You took a total stranger home from the club and let him violate you in all sorts of ways, you slut."

I smiled broadly. "I sure did."

She erupted in a fit of giggles that pulled me along until we were both gasping for air and I was holding my stomach.

It took a while to recover and Anna was still a little breathless when she spoke again. "Fucking hell, Carly. You know I'm messing with you. And I'm glad to hear you sounding so happy."

"I am," I said, realizing it was true. The moment of panic had passed and I was resolved to focus on the good things, not the bad.

"I'm also proud of you," Anna continued. "It's been a long time since you went after something or someone you wanted."

"Yeah, I know. And it feels good. I mean damn, I straight up threw myself at Sam, but I'm not sorry. And he sure didn't mind."

She groaned. "Oh, I just bet. He was sex on legs, girl."

"A, you have no idea."

"Okay, okay. Enough. I lied. I don't want to know. I'll just sit here being jealous."

"Why? It's not like you didn't have options. There was a crowd of dudes around you when I left."

"Yeah, but nothing good."

"What about the bouncer? I thought you were going to try and find him later."

"I did. Tried and failed. I saw him inside for a few seconds, shoving some guy towards the back, but he never reappeared."

"Bummer. You going out again tonight?"

"Of course. We're only young, dumb and pretty for so long."

I laughed. "You got that partly right. I'm sure you'll be dumb forever."

"Shut up. I assume you're staying in?"

"Yup. You know me, once a week is more than enough."

"Is tall, dark and sexy going to keep you company?"

"No. At least I don't think so."

"You didn't talk about it?"

"Not really. He was running late. We exchanged numbers, but didn't plan a date or anything."

"Date? What the hell do you need a date for? Just call him over to service you some more."

"Stop. It's not like that. I think he's a cool guy. Could definitely be more than a one-night stand."

"Uh huh. So, tell me more about him then. What you like aside from his sweet ass."

"Lots of things. He's smart. And funny."

"Okay. And what does he do for a living? Where does he live? How old is he?"

"Don't know, I have no idea, I'm not sure."

"Yes, I see you've forged a deep emotional connection and shared much about your lives."

"Bitch. I'm hanging up."

Anna laughed. "Sorry, just messing with you. If you like him, call him and ask him out on a date."

"Maybe I will. But not today. I've got a ton of stuff to do. And I might need a nap."

"Don't wait too long, Carly. I know you."

She did, better than I knew myself sometimes. But she didn't understand whatever was going on between Sam and me. I couldn't find the words to explain, but something told me we were going to be seeing a lot more of each other.

Normally I'd be embarrassed for sleeping with him right away, but I wasn't. And from the sweet way he'd said goodbye, the reluctance to leave my apartment, I knew he was feeling it too. We'd just clicked and that wasn't something I was going to let go of. Not to mention I'd never had so many explosive orgasms. I'd be nuts to let a guy like that get away so easily. I'd find out where he lived, what he did and anything else later. I knew we both wanted to see each other again, and that was good enough for the moment.

Monday morning I got to work around seven, as The Slug had requested. He usually opened the office but had an appointment across the city, or so he claimed. I unlocked the place, went inside to turn off the alarm and got the office ready for the day.

I was checking the roster for the day when the phone rang. "Courier Express, how may I help you?"

"Carly? It's James Kent."

"Good morning Dr. Kent. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, but a bit annoyed. Darius was supposed to do an early pick-up half an hour ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I just got in."

"It's okay. Can you call him for me? This is a rather important package."

"Of course, I understand. Hold on while I try to get in touch with him?"

"Sure."

I put him on hold and scrolled through the phone list. Darius was kind of a dim bulb, but he was usually on-time. Especially for Dr. Kent. He was a regular client who used us multiple times a week. I had no idea what kind of stuff a physician would need messengered so often, but he was nice and polite and always paid his bills on time, so it didn't really matter.

The home number we had for Darius went right to voicemail and his work phone was sitting in the charger bank behind my desk, so I was out of ways to reach him.

"Dr. Kent? I'm really sorry but I can't get Darius."

"I see. This is a big problem for me, Carly. I need this package delivered as soon as possible."

"Give me twenty minutes. I'll make sure it gets where it needs to go, one way or the other."

He was silent for a few seconds and then made a noncommittal sound. "All right. I've got a patient coming in, but I'll leave the package with my receptionist. I am trusting you to get this done for me."

"We won't let you down, Dr. Kent. Courier Express values your continued business."

"Yes, well. Okay. Just get it done."

"Of course, sir."

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I tried Darius a few more times, but it was pointless. I even called Mitchell, but his phone was off too. Ordinarily I would have fretted and second guessed myself, but still floating on a cloud from my night with Sam, I was feeling decisive and confident. There was only one thing to do.

Happy I'd worn comfortable pants; I switched the phones back over to night-weekend, locked the front door, and went out back to where a bank of bicycles was chained up. I unlocked one and climbed aboard, wobbling.

As I carefully made my way down the alley I tried to remember the last time I was on a bike. It had been a while. But with no car and no cash for a cab, it was bike or bus and the latter would take forever.

I settled in and managed to survive the ten minute ride to Dr. Kent's office. I picked up the package without incident – save for a strange look from the receptionist who probably wasn't expecting their courier to be a chubby girl – and headed down to the destination address.

Everything was fine until I rode down a steep hill. The street crossed a main thoroughfare at the bottom and I got a little scared at all the rush hour traffic I was about to plow through. A moment of hesitation was all it took to send me tumbling off the bike. I landed hard on my side, scraping the hand I'd put out to break my fall.

Cursing, I sat up.

A car stopped next to me and a concerned looking older man yelled across to see if I was okay.

"Fine, thank you. Just bruised my pride a little."

He nodded, rolled his window back up and drove off. I was partly annoyed. If I'd been some tiny waif he'd probably have gotten out to help me. But on the other hand, the sooner I got up and could try to forget about the whole thing, the better.

A flash of pain went through my hip as I stood up. I gingerly took two steps towards the bike and righted it. The single package was still strapped down, but a corner had impacted hard and was torn.

I got out of the street and walked to the next corner, resting the bike against a pole. I examined the chair and tires and figured everything looked okay before turning my attention back to the box. The skin of my palm was scraped and burning as I prodded at the damaged corner of the cardboard.

Brushing off the dirt, I peered into the opening, trying to see if whatever inside was broken, but couldn't tell. I was torn about what to do. We weren't supposed to open packages, but I wanted to be able to call if something was damaged, considering how late it was already.

Figuring Dr. Kent would appreciate the care, I pulled up the tape that held the box closed. There was an identical role in the emergency kit so I could reseal it right there.

Inside the box was a mass of old newspaper wrapped around what felt like a million broken pieces of something. My heart sank as I unwound it to find a plastic bag filled with – pills?

It didn't make any sense. Why would a doctor be using a courier to send a huge bag of pills? They were all the same and there had to be hundreds in there, if not more.

My mind was trying to make sense of things as I realized I was on a busy street corner holding a big pile of meds. Shit. I shoved the pills and their packing material back in the box, taped it up again and started walking the rest of the way down the hill.

Professional procedures for doctors certainly weren't my specialty, but I was pretty sure it had to be illegal for them to transport drugs like this. Was this what Dr. Kent sent all the time? Did his usual messenger, Darius know? Did Mitchell?

The soreness from my fall was barely registering in my brain as I thought through past occurrences at work. Little things started to fit together, the picture in the puzzle becoming clear. Even the weird guy from Friday was making a kind of terrible sense. As was The Slug's weird schedule and frequent strange behavior.

When everything clicked into place I froze right there on the sidewalk. My boss was using his business and my co-workers to transport drugs. And if he was doing it for Dr. Kent there must be others. He could be helping to move any manner of illegal materials all over the city.

My stomach twisted in a tight knot and it was a struggle to keep myself upright. I was part of this. I'd taken the call, made the arrangements, and handled the payments.

It took every bit of control in me to keep from throwing up. The cool air felt suddenly hot on my shoulders and I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide. But I couldn't. Because I was holding a big box full of drugs. In the middle of the morning where anyone could see.

Panic filled me, spreading out from my gut to every extremity. I needed to call the police, turn in the evidence, give testimony, and do something, right?

I'd be fired, of course. And possibly arrested or worse. I was born in this city and knew most roads in the drug trade led to organized crime. There were stories all the time about people like me, dupes who ended up jailed or dead for being in this situation.

My mind flashed back to a year ago, the last time I'd felt this kind of hopeless terror. I was back in that car, shaking with fear. A low keening sound emanated from me and I curled up into a ball, praying for it to be over soon.

Back in the present I was shaking too. I could barely hear or see anything as a smothering wave of hysteria crashed over me. I tried to remember by steps, struggled mightily to push back against the panic, but I couldn't. Helpless, I wrapped my arms around the pole, closed my eyes, and just held on, hoping that it would pass.

And as always, eventually it did. I had no idea how long I'd been standing there or how many people had seen me, but it didn't matter. Sweat cooled under my clothes and I breathed deeply. The pain in my hand and my hip anchored me and I managed to get myself together and started moving.

I walked the bike down to the bottom of the hill and climbed back on. I rode for a while without consciously knowing where I was headed, but I realized I'd been riding to the drop-off location. I'm ashamed to admit it was a relief. It let me cling to vague possibilities. Maybe I had it all wrong. I was no expert on drug dealing. There could be a perfectly reasonable and legal explanation for what Dr. Kent was doing. Who was I to accuse him?

By the time I got to the address I'd convinced myself everything was fine. I ignored the voice in the back of my head that scoffed at me, called me an idiot and a coward. A thin, pale woman signed for the package and barely glanced at me, thankfully. I secured the delivery slip and walked back to the curb. I got on the bike again and rode back to the office slowly and carefully, concentrating on the strip of road ahead of me and nothing else.

When I got back to work I braced for a confrontation with Mitchell, but the small space was as empty as I'd left it. Still uneasy, I went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and check on my injuries. There was nothing worse than a few scrapes, the only saving grace of this terrible morning.

I went back out to my desk and sat down to check the messages. Another small blessing, there was nothing that needed my immediate attention. Braden and a few of the other messengers would be in soon, so I got thing prepped for them, going through the familiar motions without thinking about them.

But when some of the guys arrived, joking and casual, my heart sank again. I couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. I couldn't ignore that something wrong was going on here. I had no idea who was in on it or if all the messengers were as clueless as me, but I couldn't keep putting them, unwitting or not, in a dangerous situation. I had to report what I'd seen, what I'd done.

"Brae, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," he replied, fiddling with some piece of the bicycle he was constantly rebuilding.

"I need to take care of something and it's kind of an emergency. Can you cover the desk for a few hours?"

He nodded. "Sit on my ass and let these punks do all the work? Hell yes."

I smiled, in spite of myself. "Thanks. I'll try to be back soon."

"Take your time. I'll just sit here and do my nails or chat on Facebook. That's what you do all day, right?"

"Yes. Exactly." I laughed weakly, grabbed my stuff again and headed out. There was a police station a few blocks past my bus stop and I walked there at a brisk pace, my eyes on the ground. I knew if I caught anyone's eye I'd chicken out, so I paid no attention to the people around me until I ran full speed into one of them.

I saw his feet a second before I plowed into his back and almost knocked us both over. But his big, strong body stopped my momentum and I was teetering back to vertical when he turned around and let out a huge bellowing laugh.