Authors: Jack Parker
"Rarely. If it will make you feel better, I'll do my best to break one of them later."
"Oh? And which rule would that be?"
"Never become involved with a co-worker."
"I don't date men I work with."
"I can't resist a challenge."
The car cruised up to the curb, the hubcap scraping the sidewalk. Boyish grin in place, Scott opened the back door. "Let's live dangerously."
Physical Education
Sniff.
The scent of a cigarette wrestled with the sleek leather smell of the sedan as the car doors locked automatically. The car was moving, and rather than a conversational driver asking where they wanted to go, this time there were two silent people up front. Scott could make out the dark silhouettes through the raised Plexiglass. Uneasy, Scott realized, too late, that he'd broken one of his other rules—don't take rides from strangers.
Idiot!,
his brain screamed. But in deference to the woman with him, he simply muttered, "Uh-oh."
"What did you forget?" Tessa asked, at the same time reaching for the carpeted cover that hid the control panel for the privacy wall. "We'll just let Ric know we need to go back."
Flipping the switch, Tessa gave the gadget more than enough time to respond before flipping it again; still there was no movement from the Plexiglass divider. "May be broken," she guessed as she turned to her seatmate.
"Yeah, that's one possibility." Scott played with the thin silver controls on the door handle. Both windows and locks refused to budge as though all electric power was sucked out of the metal barrier.
Tessa raised her hand to the dark glass and gave it a quick rap. "Ric?"
Head cocked to the side as she looked at Scott, she saw worry filled his eyes as he looked past her into the front seat. In New York , there was a code; you didn't kill police or press because it often led to more questions than any problem could solve. But that same courtesy didn't extend to Chicago and its residents, and Scott had a sinking suspicion that someone from Pascal DeMarco's camp was now driving.
"What's wro…" she started to ask, but turned at the sound of the divider coming down. Tessa wasn't quick enough to prevent the small squeal of surprise that escaped as she jumped. She half landed against Scott, a swirl of cigarette smoke following her into the back seat.
Cy Perelli leered at the passengers. "Hello, Tess. It's a damn good thing I spotted you two…" He smirked as he added, "there are bad people around here. Somebody could just snatch you off the street."
His companion in the front seat laughed; one of his nameless goons, no doubt. Tessa didn't recognize him. "Where's Ric?" she demanded.
With a roll of his eyes, Cy whined, "I'm hurt. No 'hello,' no 'thanks for the ride'?"
Tessa leaned forward, her tone sharp, "I asked you a question. Now where's Ric?"
"Out. Why do you care?"
"He's family."
"You're hardly the loyal one," Cy said, pointing at Scott. "You figure hooking up with this guy will change what you are?"
"Change is inevitable." One hand clutching at her stomach, the other hand drifted to Scott's wrist. Scott looked down, noticed the show of solidarity, but understood they were still trapped.
"Damn straight," Cy said. "If you'd just come to Gino's, back in Chicago, this would have been easier."
"I didn't like how you asked."
"Well, I'll be more direct this time." Cy continued, "Gonna show you how it's going to be, Tess. Up close and personal like."
"What are you...?"
"Ya know, your Dad don't listen. Whether he likes it or not, it's time for a new order."
"Novus," Scott said, which rewarded him a glare from Cy. All the players here were of like age—as though a bunch of thirty-somethings had gotten together and decided to defy the establishment. Could glass be the key? Was it someone other than the heads of the Mob behind the Xenex Corporation? Little upstarts? Was that why he hadn't been able to figure out who owned it—looking for the obvious, when that wasn't the case?
"Cy, you don't want to do this." Tessa's fist bounced off the Plexiglass divider as it rolled back into position. "Damn it," she swore under her breath, at the same time rubbing at the now red flesh on the heel of her hand.
Scott muttered, "I think I know where we're going."
"Where?" Tessa asked, still rubbing her hand.
"Harlem." The reporter figured they had about ten minutes to make a plan before they arrived at the glass factory. He kept his voice low, even though the divider was up. It was entirely possible that those in front could hear them no matter what they did.
Looking out the window, he continued thinking out loud, "Where did they get the money?"
"What money?" Tessa asked.
"The money to establish their new order. Factories, real estate—that takes capital."
Tessa stared at him. "Can you think about how to get out of here, instead of your precious story?"
Scott rubbed a finger along his jaw, "It's sort of the same thing."
Holding the material of her dress closer to her slender body, Tessa retreated to the opposite side of the back seat, and once again gave an attempt, albeit in vain, to open the passenger window. "You sure know how to show a girl an exciting time," she muttered, pushing at the small buttons.
The noise she was making broke his concentration. "This is my fault?"
"I haven't even got that stupid postcard with me."
"I don't think that matters anymore."
"Okay," she uttered in a loud whisper, sounding almost breathless. "This is where you pull a rabbit out of your hat or whistle for Silver, your trusty steed, or whatever you hero types do."
The interior grew dimmer with the loss of the heavy street lights as the car exited the expressway and slowed. Scott couldn't help but smile. "Heroes have been known to kiss the girl in a moment like this."
With her fingers still posed on the lock switches, Tessa slowly turned to look at Scott. "Very funny."
The trademark grin faded. He wasn't supposed to feel like he needed to hold her. Yet, it was strangely right.
"I'm not laughing," he said. The perfect melodramatic movie line would have been something like 'and if I'm going to die tonight...' as a prelude to his next move, but although Scott lived by the pen, he didn't like to waste words when they seemed unnecessary. Instead, he slid across the leather seat to close the gap between them.
"I'm dead serious."
Without waiting for permission, he bent forward and kissed her.
It was intended at first to satisfy his curiosity, and perhaps distract her from the obvious. But the impulse changed into something more meaningful. So, since she didn't push him away, Scott brought his other hand up to rest against the side of her face, and continued the kiss, until he would have to come up for air.
The warmth of his touch, the comfort in his soft smile or the look she saw in his eyes—she couldn't be sure which the stronger lure was, but the shivering stopped as she found herself folding into his embrace. As their eyes locked and he slowly bent to touch his lips to hers again, the world as she knew it ceased to exist; everything around them…faded to black. The only sound to meet her ears was the distant swish of wind outside the car and the soft moan in the back of her throat.
The thought of kissing this man was not completely foreign to the pretty redhead; she'd almost taken the same chance earlier that day at his apartment, but had reined in her urge out of respect for their working relationship. That itself appeared to be coming to an untimely end, and so did the kiss…a sharp rise in the road bumped the two apart. In another place, another time, the awkward mishap might have brought forth one of her witty comments. But as they sat in the dark, Tessa could find no words.
The dark sedan slowed until it came to a stop in front of a large steel door a few meters from the front entrance of an industrial building. An oversized neon sign, depicting a beautiful stained glass window with huge lettering, announced their arrival at Novus Glass.
"Stupid name," she said childishly.
"Maybe not," Scott said "Aren't you always saying "everything with these guys is symbolic"? Well, what's Latin a symbol of?"
"You give them too much credit for creativity."
The silly chatter was cut short when both back doors opened at the same. Tessa slid the remaining two inches closer to Scott, which she hoped would be out of the men's reach. Cy growled, "Get outta the car." Her old friend, however, was surprisingly agile and had no problem reaching into the backseat and removing Tessa, with a little more force than was probably necessary.
Her sudden exit didn't allow much of an opportunity to see what was happening to Scott. Holding tight to her purse, Tessa stumbled from the sedan onto the concrete parking area, almost taking a tumble. As if anticipating the problem, Cy pulled up his arm and in effect stopped the fall. In response, Tessa tried to reclaim her appendage, yanking hard to try and slip from his strong-hold. With a guttural growl, the dark-haired man with the tattoos dug his fingers purposely into her bicep muscle, instantly draining her arm of any useable energy. She couldn't catch the quick gasp and tiny whimper that emerged from the result of the barbaric but effective technique, and seeing the lopsided sneer that snaked across Cy's thin lips as they pinched his cigarette, it was obvious he was pleased with his success thus far.
On the opposite side of the car, another man reached in and grabbed Scott. The reporter was smart enough not to try and hit his armed escort, or do much more than glare defiantly. Patience was the best weapon, although his palm did flex and he reconsidered his options when he heard Tessa's sounds of protest. Recently referred to as a hero, it bothered him as the 'damsel' was pushed around.
"Inside," Cy commanded. With a shrug and as much dignity as he could muster, Scott complied by walking towards the front door. He didn't need to open the steel entrance. Cy did it for them. Tessa and the last bruiser with the gun followed behind.
The low hum of machinery greeted them. For the time of day, a surprising amount of activity was going on inside the glass factory. Smelters and conveyor belts were operating. Electric lights were on, and the bright flames of the ovens offered additional sources of illumination, so much that Scott lifted a hand to shield his eyes as he glanced about. The other hand found a home in the pocket of his suit and randomly hit a number on the speed dial of his phone.
The big open room they'd been ushered into was loud and hot, adding to the stress of the moment. Tessa rolled her shoulders back, and rose as tall as the high heels and her 5' 2" frame would allow. She stepped past her aggressor, snatching the lit cigarette from between Cy's fingers as she went by.
"You know , these things could kill you," she said confidently, ironically bringing it to her lips and taking a long draw before throwing it to the cement floor and crushing it beneath her shoe.
But who can wait that long
. The biting remark lay dangerously close to the tip of her tongue but she held it back.
Scott's eyes widened at her act of defiance. He looked pointedly at Cy and asked boldly, "How about a tour?"
Cy hesitated, his hand was raised and clearly intent on dealing with Tessa. Then he seemed to think better of it. He took the few steps necessary to walk over to Scott. The two men glared at each other for a moment before Cy lowered his now empty hand and pulled out a gun for effect. "I don't think so."
"You don't need to do that, Cy, we're not armed," Tessa immediately confessed. Guns were as common as wristwatches in her home while growing up. Seeing the Bren Ten tucked comfortably in Cy's right hand, didn't bother her as much as the fact that it was pointed at Scott.
"You don't need to do that , Cy," the grown man mimicked in a childish voice. "You sound like Rhen, always thinking he knew better." The bitterness hissed through his teeth and the nudging in her gut became more insistent, pushing her to find out the truth about what happened five months ago.