“No,” she said, struggling. “Just, step back from. . things.”
Jack was having trouble seeing a difference, but her proposal didn’t seem negotiable. “Okay then. We’ll step back.”
Andie dug her car keys from her purse. “I’ll drive you home. I’m glad you’re okay with this.”
“Sure,” said Jack. “Perfectly okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tennis anyone?” said Jack, grumbling. He was still in bed, too tired to fight off the fuzzy yellow ball that Max was trying to insert into his master’s left eye socket.
“Max, down!”
In golden-speak, Jack’s words translated to something along the lines of
He’d managed to be awake for all of thirty seconds before the thought crossed his mind. Not bad.
Jack stepped in front of the mirror and checked out the bruise on his neck. It was indeed high, like a hanging, just as Detective Rivera had pointed out. Whether it matched the bruising pattern on Celeste Laramore’s neck was a question beyond Jack’s pay grade. He’d be interested in the opinion of the forensic experts, which was simple enough to find out. All he had to do was call Andie and-
A banging on the front door interrupted his thoughts. Jack knew only one person rude enough to come knocking so early in the morning, but then he checked the time and discovered how late it actually was: 11:09 A.M. The painkiller he’d taken before going to bed had knocked him out for ten hours. He pulled on a pair of jogging shorts and answered the door. His suspicion had been on the money; it was Theo.
“Dude, I been calling your cell for an hour. You all right?”
“Yeah, fine. I was just out of it.”
Theo smiled. “Good drugs?”
Jack’s Spanish was notoriously bad. The death of his Cuban American mother in childbirth left him “culturally challenged,” a half-Cuban boy in a completely Anglo home with no link to his Hispanic heritage. Decades later, when Jack was in his thirties, Abuela had finally fled Cuba. For a time, her mission in life had been to give her gringo grandson a crash course in everything Cuban. He’d worked his way up to a C-minus before she’d virtually given up on making him fluent.
“Your neck!” said Abuela.
“It looks worse than it feels,” Jack said.
“When you last eat?” Her English was only slightly better than Jack’s Spanish.
“I don’t remember.”
Abuela shook her head and went to the kitchen. Keeping him fed was the one aspect of his cultural education that had not failed. Jack closed the door, and he and Theo sat in the living room while Abuela searched the cupboard for something that in her book even remotely qualified as “food.”
“Thanks for staying with Abuela last night,” said Jack.
“No problem. What’s the plan going forward?”
“I don’t know. We can’t leave her exposed. The threat was against ‘someone you love.’”
“And you assume that means Abuela, not me?” Theo said with a cheesy grin.
Jack ignored it. “I don’t assume it’s Abuela. We’re just being cautious. Andie thinks the threat is directed at her.”
Theo glanced around the place. “Where
“Work.”
“Everything good between you two?”
“Yeah, fine.”
Theo chuckled. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Jack was taken aback. “Did you talk to her?”
“Nah, I read the blog.”
“The blog?”
“BNN: no-blood-money.com.”
“Bonnie showed that to me. What are you reading that trash for?”
Theo shrugged. “I take my bodyguard role seriously. Gotta suck up all the information I can.”
“That’s even less reliable than Faith Corso.”
“What are you talking about? It
“No, it’s not. Bonnie showed me the site. Corso was just a guest blogger, and there was a link to BNN.”
“Not anymore. Faith Corso’s picture is all over it,” Theo said as he retrieved it on his iPhone. “Look at the address: www.BNN/FaithCorso/no-blood-money.com.”
“Corso must have liked it so much, she took it over.”
“Anyway, this morning’s front page is all about your ass-kicking.”
“I didn’t get my ass-”
“Dude, I saw the picture. Nice neck brace.”
“Damn, I knew I should have taken that thing off.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered. Looks like the picture was taken inside the ER. Kind of grainy, like maybe a nurse or another patient snapped it with a cell phone from far away and then had to blow it up. Anyway, it’s the other picture that’s the money shot. You and Andie arguing outside the hospital. The caption says your fiancee dumped you.”
Jack groaned.
“Clever headline, actually: ‘Broken Neck, Broken Heart for Shot Mom’s Lawyer.’”
“Oh, my God.”
“Is it true?” asked Theo. “You and Andie, kaput?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“Andie isn’t happy about the publicity this case is getting. She’s afraid the bureau might rethink her role as an undercover agent. When some jackass jumped out of the bushes and snapped our picture last night, it sent her over the edge. We decided to separate for a few days until the hoopla blows over.”
“Cool. So you’re single?”
“No, I’m not single. This is temporary.”
“Really? Do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporary custody of the children awarded to the mother, pending finalization of the divorce, which always means permanent? Or do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporarily laid off, which means permanent only ninety-nine percent of the time?”
“Why are you such a smart-ass?”
Jack heard his cell vibrating on the kitchen counter. He got up and checked it. The incoming number was unfamiliar at first, but something in the back of his mind made him realize that he’d seen it before. The text message confirmed his hunch. The sender was definitely no stranger.
“Something wrong?” asked Theo.
Jack cleared the look of surprise from his face. “It’s from Rene,” he said.
