Dark and Deadly

He laughed. “Oh, come on. Wouldn’t it just be justice for something to happen to me? After all, I’m sure you’ve wished me dead or to the devil at least a hundred times since we met.”

“No,” she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” She turned in the seat to look at him. Since the light was red, he turned to her, grinning.

“Oh, right. How better to get back at me?”

She shook her head. “That’s not the way I work. Never has been.”

“Right,” he smirked, and drove on.

Her cell phone rang. Digging it out of her purse, she answered it.

“Hi, Pam.”

“You’ve got to come, quick,” Pam was panting the words. “It’s the package. There’s been a problem. You gotta come.”

Torie looked at Paul. Crap. He’d never understand. Closing her eyes, she wondered why she cared. What did it matter what he thought of her? He’d made his decision a long, long time ago.

“Turn around, Paul. We’ve got to go to Germantown.”

“What?” Paul snapped.

“It’s a matter of life or death. I’m not kidding.”

“You’re kidding, right? Life or death in Germantown? It’s a suburb.”

“Pam and my cousin Dev are there. Yes. It’s for real.”

“I’m calling Tibbet,” Paul said as he made a squealing U-turn and headed for the interstate.

“No,” Torie screeched and snatched his phone away. “This isn’t about that. It’s something else. But we have to go.”

“We’re on our way, Pam,” she said, cutting off Pam’s stream of chatter. “Can’t talk.”

Slapping the phone closed, she grabbed the armrest as Paul whipped the car onto a side street, screeching to a halt at the curb.

“What the hell is going on?” Paul demanded.

“Pam and I had a little side incident, the day my house burned down. The, um, package, we delivered is really fragile, and…”

“Torie, if you don’t speak English and tell me what the hell you and Pam did, I’m turning the car around and calling Tibbet.”

“You can’t. Really. Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” His incredulity crushed her heart. “I can’t believe you said that to me, of all people.”

Her nerves, frayed to the point of breaking so many times over the past few weeks, finally gave way. The scream started low and rose until she let loose a howl worthy of a banshee.

Paul recoiled in reaction and she poked a finger into his bicep.

“I want you to shut the hell up. Trust. What the hell do you know about trust? I trusted you, you bastard. You’re the one who told Todd, not me, and I’m supposed to trust you? Ohhhh, no. Then you go from helping me get away, asking me out, being that way with me, to shouting at me afterward? Telling people we were a one-date wonder? Then complain when, after six months, six months, that I’m dating your friend?”

She sat back into her seat with a whump, sat for all of two seconds, then fired up again. “I think you should be really watching who you ask to trust you, buddy. I’ve never been anything…” she shouted, turning back. She felt as if she could shoot fire from her fingertips, she was so mad, as she poked his arm again. “Anything but honest and truthful with you. You’re the one who betrayed my trust. So suck it up, Jameson. If you want to protect me, fine. I’m going to help my friend since she asked, and has never, ever broken the bonds of friendship. So let’s go. Drive.” When he didn’t put it in gear, she put her hand on the latch and picked up her purse. “Trust me on this, Paul, if nothing else. If I have to get out of this car and call a cab, I will.”

Paul sat for several heartbeats more, just looking at her. His dark eyes betrayed turbulent emotions, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Her own outburst had her so wound up, so shaken, that she didn’t really want to know.

“Damn it, Paul,” she began, pulling the latch.

He slammed his hand down on the locking mechanism.

“I’m driving.”

The silence was fat and thick with unspoken pain, with memories and bitter words from long ago rising to shake off the dust of time, to bite again. Torie sank into her seat. She’d gotten her way, but at what cost? Her resolve to never speak of those days again, her decision to not go there, was blown.

They pulled into the neighborhood; Torie gave terse directions to get them to Carlos’s house. There were three cars in the driveway. Carlos’s low-slung Jaguar was first, then Pam’s SUV, then what looked like a rental car.

Paul pulled to the curb behind the rental. Torie got out before Paul could cut the engine.

“Where is he?” Torie called as Pam hurried out the door.

“Who?” Paul was quick to follow. “Where is who?”