Grand Slam (23 page)

Before I left Jack's, standing at his front door, I told him I needed to go to the tennis.

‘You don't
need
to go.' With hands on my hips, he pulled me close. ‘Spend the evening with me. I'll chase you around my bedroom.'

‘Really? You'll chase me?'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘All around the house?'

‘If you want. I'll send Joe and Sharon to the tennis,' he said into my ear, closing in even further, arms around me. ‘We'll be all alone. Just you and me and my bed.' He kissed me then, tongue probing gently.

I moaned, clutching him. The kiss got deeper. We side-stepped away from the wide-open door and he kicked it shut. But wait! What was I doing? I couldn't
not
go to Emilio's match. What if he lost because I wasn't there? I pulled away, stepping back to get some distance so I could think straight. I shook my head to kick start my brain.

‘I have to go to the tennis. If Emilio loses the match because of me, I'll never forgive myself.'

Jack groaned and sat on the stairs, put his face in his hands. I sat next to him, but not too close.

‘Did I tell you what happened at his first match?'

‘No, but I heard.'

‘He says he can't play without me there watching. He thinks I'm his muse or something.'

‘This is getting out of control.' He shook his head. ‘This whole thing with you and Méndez.'

‘It's fine, really. I'll manage it. But I need to go to his games.'

‘All right.' He sighed. ‘I'll come and get you later, take you in. Joe will get Méndez.'

We stood and I held out my hand.

He looked at it. ‘You want to shake my hand.'

‘It's safer than kissing.'

He took my hand and hauled me in, kissed me passionately, sent me on my way with a smack on the bum.

Back in Andrew's car, I asked him to take me to work. As we neared my office, I said, ‘Will you come in?'

‘Of course.'

‘Do you know Shane McGann?'

He gave me a quick look. ‘Why? Is he in your office?'

‘No. I think he's behind the shooting this morning.'

‘How?'

I shrugged. ‘He's got nasty friends. And good reason to want payback. You know about what he did to me in Sydney?'

‘Yeah.'

‘I reckon Sharon would know him.'

Andrew didn't respond, concentrating on parking the car.

‘Do you know if Sharon knows him?'

‘She would.' The look he then gave me said:
Where are you going with this?
‘McGann and Sharon were both under Jack in Iraq.'

‘Can you rephrase that please?'

He laughed. ‘Sharon
reported
to Jack in Iraq.'

Andrew came with me to my desk, looked all around and under it, then found a comfy spot to read his crime novel. I stole occasional glances at him, wondering if in fact it was Andrew, not Sharon, with the contract on me, even though Jack says he trusts him like he trusts Joe. He certainly had his chance on the deserted floor of my office. Mind you, if Andrew had strangled me in my office and left me there, Jack would have had a pretty good idea who'd done it. Unless he somehow made it look like a vampire attack — maybe with a staple remover — in which case we'd all know who the prime suspect would be.

I searched all my drawers, went through files, inbox, outbox, trying to find evidence that Charlotte hadn't done all the work she'd said. I did find some, actually. A pile of my filing that she said she'd done was shoved into the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet. Exactly the sort of thing I'd do. I checked out the documents she'd created. Read the media release she'd written. I opened one I'd written earlier on the same subject. Yep. She'd pretty much plagiarised mine. Oh well. No harm done, I supposed, except that Rosalind was possibly thinking of replacing me with her new favourite person. But not if ‘all goes well with the tennis' and Rosalind gets transferred outta here. An evil cackle sounded in my head.

Before I left work, I called Emilio and told him the plans for the evening. He wanted me to come straight away, and for the first time since meeting Jack and being under what seemed like constant house arrest, I was pleased about needing a bodyguard. ‘You and I both need protection now, Emilio. I'll see you in the café before your match.'

Andrew took me home in time for me to change for the tennis.

Jack picked me up and on the way, I said, ‘What are your plans for when we get there?'

‘I'll deliver you to Méndez and stay with you until his match starts.'

Oh, shit. What if Emilio was feeling all sooky and wanted to be all touchy and feely with hugs and the like? ‘Er, you might not want to come into the players' café. It's pretty . . . noisy and . . . annoying. You know.'

‘No, I don't know.'

‘Um, it's full of . . . tennis players.'

‘And?'

‘And Emilio.'

‘Who'll be all over you and you don't want me to see that.'

‘Yeah.'

He drove a bit faster. ‘I'll handle it.'

Jack and I both had All Access passes so we were able to walk straight into the players' café. Mind you, I reckon Jack could just turn up anywhere and be allowed in. We got something to eat, and waited. I called Teresa from my mobile and told her we were there. She said that Joe was at the hotel, and he would bring her and Emilio, and that Emilio was feeling very happy. ‘The shopping expedition and the shooting have made him feel so alive,
chica.
He is, how you say, buzzing with energy.'

I wondered again about Teresa. She seemed to sincerely care for Emilio, but then the sister in
The Bodyguard
had really seemed to care about whatsername. Did Teresa organise the shooting? But if she did, how did she get one of Jack's guns? Maybe she got Martin McGann to pay Sharon.

‘Apparently the assassination attempt has had a positive effect on Emilio's state of mind,' I told Jack.

‘Interesting.'

‘Maybe we could organise another heist before the finals.'

Jack chuckled.

‘Let's plan something really big for the grand final,' I said.

‘Careful what you wish for.'

We waited, seated next to each other but not too close. I looked around the room. Not many people, no-one near us to listen in on our convo.

I whispered, ‘Are you still considering Teresa?'

‘Regarding the train incident?'

‘All of it. There's something I haven't told you yet.'

He looked at me.

‘I saw Teresa and Martin McGann arrive at the Sofitel within ten minutes of each other.'

‘What were you doing there?'

‘Following her.'

He nodded, looked away, stared at the television for a long moment. Finally he shrugged. ‘It doesn't necessarily mean anything. Could be a coincidence. Maybe they're having an affair.'

‘I think she might be trying to get rid of Emilio.'

Jack gave me a long look. ‘I don't know how either Martin or Teresa would acquire one of my weapons.'

‘Maybe she's paying someone.' Should I go there? Okay I will. ‘What about Sharon?'

He stiffened slightly, eyes on the television. ‘What about her?'

‘She has access to your weapons. And she knows Shane McGann, if you'd prefer to think along those lines.

He held up a hand. ‘No.'

‘But —'

‘No.' He looked at me. ‘I've known Sharon a long time. We saw active duty together, for God's sake.' His voice was hard. He meant it.
Don't take this further, Erica
.

‘I think she wants you.'

He leaned close. ‘Even if that were true, and she was prepared to kill for it —' He gave me a stern look, one that demanded we drop the subject, pronto, ‘— if Sharon had made that shot, you wouldn't be sitting here now.'

End of subject. Hmph. I bowed my head, duly chastised, reminding myself to go practise at the shooting range some time. I wasn't such a bad shot myself. And that reminded me, I still hadn't moved my gun.

We sat in silence, watching the television. I let five minutes pass before I dared speak. In fact, I didn't speak, just leaned in and nudged Jack with my shoulder, testing the water. He looked at me and I gave him a smile. After a few seconds he returned it. There was lengthy eye contact – I gazed into his beautiful, smiling eyes, and then they weren't smiling. Uh-oh. He turned back to the television. I didn't say anything, not wanting to know if he was thinking angry thoughts about me and my accusation. But he surprised me when he said, ‘Does he . . . do you let him . . .'

‘Who?'

‘You know who.'

‘Emilio?'

‘Do you let him kiss you?'

‘No, of course not.' Sort of.

‘Does he try?'

‘Yes.'

‘How do you get around it?

‘I managed to sidestep you earlier.' I gave him another nudge.

‘That's true. You're good at it.' He frowned. ‘Méndez . . . he must want to sleep with you.' Jack's voice had tightened, and he was now scowling, searching my face, seeking the truth or reassurance, I wasn't sure. Jack clearly doesn't like to share. ‘He's completely in love with you.' Unlike someone else, who I'd like to be in love with me.

‘He
thinks
he is. Like every other girl he's with. But anyway, he believes if he sleeps with me, it'll upset his game. It's not a problem.'

‘So he's planning to wait until after the tournament.'

‘That's right.'

‘By which time you'll —'

‘Be in your bed.'

He sat back, shook his head. ‘It's a wonder I'm not a nervous wreck. Since the day I met you, I don't think I've had a good night's sleep, except when you're with me.'

‘And when I'm with you, neither of us gets much sleep.'

He smiled. ‘True.'

Emilio, Teresa and Joe arrived and joined our table. As predicted, Emilio wanted to hug me, but it was quick, not too intimate, because he was feeling so buoyant. He also wanted to hug Jack, and somehow I think that made Jack happy.

Emilio sat beside Jack and put a brotherly hand on his shoulder. ‘You know,
Yack
, I thought that photograph of you and my Emilita . . .' He laughed. ‘Well, you can imagine what I thought.'

Jack nodded. ‘Yes, I can imagine.'

‘But you have a magnificent lover in Sharon Stone.'

Jack smiled and looked at me. ‘Yes, magnificent.'

Joe groaned, Lurch-style.

My mouth pursed, mother-style.

Jack delivered me to Rod Laver Arena. We stood at the top of the steps, looking down on the court and growing crowd.

‘What are you doing now? Looking for baddies?' I glanced around. Couldn't see any.

‘No, I need to leave. Joe will take you home.'

‘Where are you going?'

He could have made something up and I would've believed him, but it was his hesitation and the way he looked away before saying, ‘Need to pay someone a visit,' that made me press further. Jack occasionally ‘pays someone a visit', which could sometimes mean that that someone, as a result of Jack's visit, will change their behaviour or leave town, never to return.