Still Into You: A Novel (Better Than Series Book 3) (8 page)

“I’m smiling because Randall has tipped his hand.  It’s just as Dr. Matt and Donnie suspected.  He’s stalking me.”  Charlie, Davis and Jules all gasp audibly.  I push through them and see Quarter sprawled on one of the couches of the sectional.  His face is smeared with blood and one of his eyes is swelling visibly with each passing moment.  His face looks different, broken.  Clay and Jack are pacing around him, firing a million questions at him.  Thank God someone thought to recline him on the couch and give him a cold washcloth.  Quarter pats at his face with a shaky hand.  I sprint over to him and sit in the small open space by his side, facing him.  Taking the washcloth from his hand, I slowly, carefully wipe away the blood.  I can sense everyone else in the room huddling around us.

I speak quietly, my voice strangely tiny, “Quarter, oh my God, what happened?”

“I was out by the pool gate, thinking everything had calmed down.  You know, we were back at the resort and your husbands had arrived.” Quarter, even bloodied and beaten, politely looks at Charlie and Davis and stammers, “Hi, Gu – guys, nice to meet you.”

Davis comes up and puts one hand on my shoulder and reaches out to shake Quarter’s hand with the other, “Nice to meet you, Quarter.”

Jules and Charlie move to stand by Jack and Clay at the back of the couch.  Charlie reaches over and shakes Quarter’s hand, too.  He tells him, “Man, we’re so glad you, all of you…” Charlie up-nods to Clay and Jack, “were here to look out for our girls.  What happened next?”

Quarter takes a deep breath, “Like I said, I was standing by the pool gate.  Jack and Clay were walking around the resort, sort of doing one last check to see that there wasn’t anyone around.  I was about to go upstairs to our condo when I spotted, through the lobby windows, this guy with a green shirt and a baseball cap on backward, hanging around the elevators.  I thought it was weird, like why would you pace in front of the elevators, why wouldn’t you just stick in your key card and call it.  Then I realized, the guy didn’t have an access card.  Cardinals Hat, Green Shirt.  He was THE Guy.  The guy bothering Biz.  The guy from The Snap that she told us hurt her.
 
I didn’t really think, I just went over and asked if I could help him.  Get a better look at him.
 

“
He was really worked up and he said he left his key upstairs and he needed an access card.  When I said no…  it all happened so fast, like out of the blue, he punched me in the eye.
It shocked me.  He started to lurch for my pocket, like to get the access card, and I went at him with an upper cut.  I think that’s when he punched me in the nose…” Quarter reaches up to gingerly touch his nose and winces.  It strikes me,
that
’s what I perceived as different when I first saw him lying on the couch.  His nose is visibly broken – turning at an almost 45-degree angle to the right.

Jack and Clay take over the story from Quarter.  They saw the fight.  They saw a commotion in the lobby through the window from across the parking lot. They started running toward the lobby and yelling.  The ruckus alarmed Randall because the guys report that right after he punched Quarter, breaking his nose and knocking him out, Randall looked out the window, made eye contact with Clay and ran.  Jack ran after him, but Randall must have hidden or found some way to escape because Jack lost him in the under-building garage full of cars.  Jack and Clay brought Quarter right up to our condo.

Clay pronounces, “We gotta call the cops!”

I look at Quarter, then Davis and finally everyone else in the room.  I return my attention to Quarter, “Thank you for stopping him…”

Quarter opens his lips, the ones still smeared with blood from his broken nose, “But I didn’t…”

“No, you did.  You stopped him from getting to me tonight.  Can you do something else for me?” I question Quarter sincerely, “Can you put off calling the cops?”

Quarter looks at me for what feels like a full minute, never breaking eye contact, “Sure, Ms. Biz… whatever you need.”

His friends protest loudly and with a lot of profanity, “Quarter, what the fuck, man?” “We need to crush that guy!”

I say calmly but not loudly, “Quiet.”  The guys continue their rejection of my idea to leave the cops out of this.

“Quiet!” Quarter yells at them, stopping the din immediately.  His hand goes back up to his face, like it hurt to be that loud.  “Let Biz talk,” he adds.

I explain to all of them, Davis, Jules, Charlie, Quarter and the guys, that I need to leave Florida immediately. 

“I need to get out of here and get home to St. Louis.  If we call the cops here, they’ll keep me here.  Donovan…” I touch Davis’ hand and pull him toward me to look deeply in his eyes, “you know Donovan, Detective Garrett?  Well, he has an idea.  A way to apprehend Randall.  It depends on me getting home and Randall hopefully following us there.”

Davis shakes his head.  I can’t tell if he’s disagreeing or merely trying to comprehend what is happening.

Quarter agrees not to call the cops.  I insist he go to the hospital.  His eye and nose are starting to look really bad.  The upper half of his face is really swollen.  Quarter has agreed to tell everyone he ran into one of the poles in the garage.  It’s a plausible story for his injuries.  The plan is to call an ambulance.  The commotion of it arriving and taking Quarter away will make a perfect cover for Davis and me to get away.  While everyone at the resort is watching the ambulance, Charlie and Jules will “sneak” us out to the airport.  Our “sneaking” will only look that way to everyone
not
monitoring my every move.  Meaning to everyone, except Randall Ireland.  We are going to “sneak” out to make sure he sees us.

After it’s all settled and before the ambulance is called, I leave the group and fly back into my bedroom of the condo to pack as quickly as possible.  Davis’ bag is still packed from his trip down from Atlanta.  He follows me into the bedroom, pulling his cell phone from his back pocket.

He begins a conversation with I don’t know who, “Hey, man.  Yeah, yeah, it was really great to get here so fast.  Thanks again for the lift.  Uh… could I ask you a favor, like a huge one…” Who the hell is Davis talking to? “I need to get my wife out of town quickly.  She, uh, we think she has a stalker… Yeah, I know.  Crazy.  Yeah, that’s what I was going to ask.  I owe you, huge. Thanks.  Okay, we will.  Bye.”

I’m baffled by Davis’ phone conversation.  “Who were you talking to?” I ask.

“Matt.  He’s the lead singer of Lawnmower.  I didn’t get a chance to tell you he gave us a ride down here to Destin on the band’s private jet.  He was feeling like a little time off himself.  He’s gonna let us borrow the jet to get home.”

I’m momentarily speechless.  Boxwood
is
on the rise, if Davis is talking to the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the country and has his number in his contacts.  When I finally regain control of my speaking abilities, I blurt out, “Wait, Matt?… You mean, Matt Chambers… of Lawnmower?  THE band, Lawnmower… gave you a ride and is letting you… us… use his plane?”

Davis smiles, his patented, symmetrical dazzling smile and tells me, “Mmm…Finally.  The chatter.  I almost wish we didn’t have to leave.”  Davis walks over to me, pulls me into his arms and kisses me soundly.  I wish we didn’t have to leave either.  Then he collects himself and answers my question, “Yeah, he’s a good guy, all of the Lawnmower guys are.  Are you almost ready?”

“Almost,” I answer.  “Go tell Jules to call the ambulance.”

Chapter 10-Present:  Run Away, Baby

The sun is up.  And I have not slept all night.  Most of the not sleeping was great.  The Snapper. Dancing. Hearing Boxwood’s song in public. Davis. Nearly-sent-into-a-coma-sex. The rest of the not sleeping, well… it was a nightmare.  A fully conscious nightmare.

The paramedics have arrived and are strapping Quarter to the gurney.  He’s answering questions, but he looks drawn and exhausted.  Pain can do that.  We all follow the paramedics and him down to the ambulance.  Davis carries both of our suitcases.  My hand is grasping his upper arm.  I’m so tired, but I keep pushing back against it.  It’s not the time to fall apart or fall down.  I can do that after we are away from here.

Clay goes in the ambulance with Quarter to the hospital.  Jack plans to follow in the truck.  They’ve promised to send me text updates about how Quarter is doing.  Charlie is going to swing by the hospital later and make sure all of Quarter’s bills are paid.  I made him promise.

In a spectacular show of lights and sirens, the ambulance delivers an early morning wake up call to all of the tourists in the condos.  Jules tells me some of them are out on their balconies watching the hubbub.  I’ve stayed “hidden” in plain sight in the lobby.  Charlie goes and gets our rental car and pulls it up to the lobby entrance.  We make a scene of looking out the door and around the under-building garage. Then Davis and I run to the car.  I jump in the closer side.  Davis chucks our bags in the trunk and runs around to the other side and gets in.  Jules rides shotgun.

I don’t know if Randall is out there spying, watching my every move.  I only hope, now, that he is.  He’s managed to do it for the past few years and stay off the radar.  But his slip up at the bar just “pinged” that radar.  Donovan told me he suspects Randall will now follow me even more closely.  It’s a game to him.  A challenge.  I think Donovan’s game is better.  And Randall watching me now is part of it.

Jules and Charlie are staying a few more days.  If Randall hasn’t watched me leave, he’ll soon figure out I’m gone if Charlie and Jules are here alone. 

“Jules, thanks for the great vacation,” I say as I hug and kiss my best friend goodbye. 

“It was pretty great… relaxing,” she laughs into my ear.  “Up until that last part… Shit got crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy,” I agree.

I wonder what she’ll think of what’s coming next.

Right before we get on Lawnmower’s private plane at the small local airport, I text Donnie Garrett:

Getting on the plane to STL.  Will text when we land.

Donnie’s reply is rapid:

I’ll head to your condo as soon as I get your text.

Looks like we’re wasting no time with Operation Trap Ireland.

***

Once on the plane, seated and holding Davis’ hand, I can breathe again and I exhale.  A huge exhale.  Davis kisses my forehead and rubs my knuckles with his thumbs.  Each move designed to relax me.  I, uncharacteristically, order a glass of white wine from Lawnmower’s private flight attendant, take three large cooling sips and pass out on Davis’ shoulder.

Chapter 11-Present:  Home, Sweet, Home

“Hey, we’ve landed,” Davis whispers in a scratchy voice into the top of my head.  I remember drinking my wine and then putting my head on his shoulder.  Evidently, I was so exhausted I missed the entire flight back.

“We’re here already?” I ask and then yawn.  I smack my lips and tongue a bit.  Ugh! Dry mouth from airplane air.  My breath must be delightful!  Davis unfastens my seatbelt and I reach down to grab my purse from the floor.

Davis rubs an infinity pattern on my back as I bend and tells me, “I was going to lie you down on the other couch you were so conked out, but I’ve missed having you near me.  You didn’t move a muscle once your head hit my shoulder.  You were so still, the only reason I knew you were still breathing was your hamster snore.  God Damn, it’s adorable.”

I’m still not really awake, but Davis’ hand massaging my back is helping, maybe a little too much.  We’re still taxiing in.  I suddenly realize I probably missed my chance to join the Mile High Club.  I mean, how often will I get a chance to be alone with Davis on a private plane?  I turn suddenly and launch myself at Davis, pushing him all the way down on the soft, buttery leather couch of the plane.  I thrust my hands in his hair and attack his lips.  Davis meets my every move with enthusiasm, a lot of enthusiasm from the feeling I’m feeling underneath me! 

“What’s all this about?”  Davis laughs in my mouth.

Pushing up on his chest so I can look down into his darkly lashed green, green eyes I whisper shyly, “I think I deprived you of a golden opportunity by falling asleep on this flight.”

“What?”  Davis looks at me quizzically.  I thrust and rotate my pelvis into his growing hardness.  “Oh?  You mean, getting my…”

              I finish his sentence, “…your Mile High Club card. Yeah.  I screwed that up, huh?”

              “I’m not too worried,” Davis says nonchalantly, “I think we’ll have plenty of opportunities in the future.”

              What in the world is he talking about?  We are NEVER going to get another chance to fly in a private plane.  We don’t know anyone with a private plane.  Well, now he knows the Lawnmower guys, but other than that…

              I hear the curtain from the other part of the plane being opened and someone clearing their throat.  “Uh-hem.  Mr. and Mrs. Brandon, we’ve landed at Spirit airport.  You are welcome to deplane whenever you’d like.”  It’s the cabin attendant. 

              Davis just smiles at her over my shoulder, as I drop my head to his chest, embarrassed at being caught making out. “Thank you, we’ll be right out.”

              Davis slides me off of him and we sit, side by side on the couch.  He laughs out loud. 

              “Busted! I thought we might get initiated after all,” he says.

              I chirp, “We aren’t a mile high anymore.”

              Looking down at his pants, he draws my attention there, “One of us is.”

              I shake my head and then squeeze his knee. 

Davis stands up, pulls me up off the couch into his embrace and smacks me on the ass.  “Let’s go home.”

***

As we step off the elevator, Donnie Garrett greets us with a wave from our front door.  I don’t know how he knew exactly what time we’d get here, but here he is.  I didn’t text him when we landed, only when we took off.

“Why is he here?” Davis whispers down to me.  He’s squeezing my hand and I can sense the tenseness in his grip.

I squeeze back, more gently, trying to calm him.  I whisper back, “I told you.  Donnie and I have a plan.  A way to stop Randall.”

Davis sighs, but continues to walk down the hall.  He hasn’t looked at me since he spotted Donnie. “I thought coming home and keeping you safe was the plan.  Tell me that’s the plan.”

I reply, tentatively, “It’s the first part of the plan.”

Davis growls his next words, “I can tell I’m not going to like this plan.”

When we arrive at our door from a walk down the hall that felt eternal, Davis snaps out a terse greeting to Detective Garrett.  I get the sense he’s recalling the deal I made with the STL Metro police to aid with the arrest of Randall Ireland a few years ago.

Davis greets the detective with a surly tone, “Donnie.”

“Davis,” Donnie responds, then, glances at me, “Hey, Biz.”  I can see a bit of tension in his eyes.  I know he’s also not thrilled about this plan, but we need to do it.  I need to do it.

Davis opens the door, but before any of us go through he turns and asks Donnie, “Can you… just give us two minutes before we do this?  We just got home.  We’ve barely seen each other for almost two weeks and Biz is really tired.  Just… two minutes.”

Donnie holds up both his hands, “No problem, man.  Completely understand.  Take your time.”  Donnie goes right into security mode.  He turns his back on us, squares his feet and places his hands behind his back.  I see his eyes shift up and down the hall.

***

“Do we have to do this now?  Right now? I was hoping to at least have tonight with you.” Davis drops our bags in the entry and paces in front of the couch.

I go to him and stop his pacing.  I run my hands up and down his arms, trying to soothe.  He finally looks me in the eyes.  His are damp and glistening.  I don’t have a drop of moisture in mine. “Hey, Davis… Mav… We
are
going to have tonight.  It’s going to be fine.  Just… please just listen to our idea.”

Davis runs his hands through his hair.  That’s it.  That’s the motion that tells me he’s not okay.  He’s worried.  I reach up and bring his hands down to rest on my hips.  I replace his hands in his hair with my own.  I could stroke his dark silky hair endlessly. 

“I don’t want you in any danger, okay?” Davis’ voice is rough.

“Okay.  I don’t think I will be.”

Davis cuts me off, “Not, ‘I don’t think…’ NO! DANGER!” 

I shake my head yes and then no, responding silently that there will be no danger. I do it, but I don’t know if it’s true.  “We need to let Donnie in.  It’s been over two minutes.”

Davis takes a hand from my hip and waves it toward the door.  He motions with resignation.

***

I open our front door.  Not only is Donnie there, but Jake is in the hallway.  Jake Gianni is standing outside the door to the home I share with Davis.  I’m astounded.  Jake is the last person I would expect to be here.  I turn my head to Donnie.  I know my eyebrows must be pinched together and I tilt my head and then shake it ever so slightly, a non-verbal, “What the hell?” shooting straight at him. 

I snap my head back to Jake, “What are you doing here?”  Before he can answer, I’m right back on Donnie rapidly asking, “What is he doing here?”

Davis calls, “Biz, what’s all the noise?  What’s going on?”

I feel Davis step up behind me and put a hand on my lower back, “Hey, Liz…ar…” He doesn’t even finish my nickname, when he sees Jake standing next to Donnie.  Davis is not so subdued in his questioning of the situation. “What THE FUCK? Jake Gianni?”

Donnie in a serious tone and measured rate, devoid of emotion tells Davis, “You need to let us in.”

If there isn’t a linear mark permanently worn into the carpet behind the couch, I’ll be amazed.  Davis has not been able to keep his seat or his cool throughout the discussion with Donnie and Jake.  He’s sat for approximately 30 seconds at a time, hopping up and pacing as every new aspect of the plan to snare Randall is revealed. He’s sure to have taken the nap on the carpet down by at least half an inch with his constant back and forth.  The final step in the plan is divulged and Davis is livid.

“NO!  Do you hear me Biz! NO! We will not do this! YOU will not do this!  This is… This is fucking insane… No.”  The last couple times I’ve seen Davis like this someone got punched or almost punched.

“Jake, Donnie… could we?  Could Davis and I have a few minutes?” I ask sweetly.  It’s up to me now.  If we are going to make this plan believable, it’s up to me to sell it.  Davis won’t listen to anyone else.  I need to talk to him alone.

Jake takes the hint immediately. Donnie, though an investigator, isn’t picking up on the cue that I need to speak with Davis alone to get agreement from him. Jake places a hand on the detective’s shoulder, “Let’s go down to Starbucks and get a coffee.”

A look of revelation comes of over Donnie Garrett’s face, “Oh…” He looks at me, I smile tightly and cock my head quickly toward the front door. “Oh, yeah…I do need a little caffeine.  Didn’t sleep much.  Back in say, five…Biz?”

“Make it fifteen.” I tell them both.

While I’ve been “kicking” Jake and Donnie out, Davis has continued to pace and grumble.  Once I hear the front door to our condo close, I go to him.  I stop his pacing by standing directly in his path, sliding my hands up his chest, over his shoulder and into his hair.  I do that thing I like so much.  I rub his hair together between my fingers.  It’s a small thing that can both calm and excite me.  Right now, I need to calm.  Davis
and
myself.

“Please come sit down with me,” I request.  “Davis, I can’t think with you pacing and growling. I need you to listen to me.”

Davis allows me to take his hand and bring him around to the front of the couch.  I sit and then pull him down to sit next to me.  Usually, after being away from home and each other, this is the moment I’d kick off my shoes, tuck my feet under myself and snuggle right into his side.  But right now, I need him to listen to me.

I start to speak, but Davis cuts me off, “Biz… I don’t like it.  It’s risky… dangerous.  I think it’s dangerous. I am NOT okay with this.  How are you okay with this?… with this plan?”

Taking a deep cleansing exhalation, I empty my lungs to release the built up tension.  All those years of practicing breathing to allay my anxiety has paid off.  When I feel my lungs fill again with new, fresh air, I begin, “I’m okay with this because I don’t see another way.  I don’t want Randall around me.  I don’t want him stalking me.  I don’t want him hurting another girl… ever again.  I’m not scared, Davis.  For once in my life, I am not petrified.  I… we can do this.  Donnie. Jake. Me. But I can’t do it without you.  I need you…all in.” The only thing I’ve ever been this sure of before in my life is that I love Davis.  I’ve tried to fix my problems on my own in the past.  It worked – partially. Not really.  Now I need support.  A team.  Team Biz.

Davis drops his head and shakes it back and forth, then clutches my hands. “Biz, I’m scared,” he whispers roughly. Davis stares at my hands, not me. Then he runs his thumbs over my knuckles.  It never fails.  It sends a zap straight to my heart and lower.  All that caring.  All his love.  In a tiny glide of his thumbs. 

“What part?” I ask, trying to make my voice lower, less excited.

Davis’ head tilts to the right and he raises it slightly to look at me with a frown.

I ask again, “What part of the plan makes you scared?”

“All of it.  No, that’s not true.  I’m fine with the first part.  The first week, when you’re protected and I’m with you… it’s the next part.  The part when I’m gone.”

I look straight into Davis’ darkly guy-linered green eyes.  The eyes I’m in love with.  The eyes that look so torn right now. I tell him, “I don’t like that part either. I don’t even want to imagine it… but…you do know why this is so important to me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”  Davis tries to smile, but only succeeds in pulling the corners of his lips up from a frown to a tension-filled line, “I think catching Randall, seeing him put away, will give you peace.  I feel like just knowing it’s a possibility, knowing that you have the power, not him, has already changed you.  You know, you seem more in control of this than I am.”

“I think you’re right, Mavis.”

“Mavis…” Davis, finally makes a noise that is positive, a chuckle. “I love when you call me that.”  Davis pauses briefly and then says quietly, but firmly, “Okay.”

“Okay?  Like, you’re in?”

“I’m in.  I’m not thrilled.  I’m in no way thrilled.  But I’m in.” Finally Davis agrees.

I throw myself at Davis, knocking him back on the couch and cover his lips with mine. “Thank you.” 

Davis pulls me in for a longer kiss, but then suddenly breaks it off,  “Call Donnie and Gianni back, NOW.  Jesus, I can’t believe Jake Gianni is back in our lives.  Let’s get this thing settled, so I can have you all to myself for one more night.”

I practically sprint off the couch and run to my phone to call them back.

***

Donovan’s plan to lure Randall is well thought out.

First, there is information gathering.

“I’m going to go down to the capital tomorrow.  Chat with Randall’s brother in Algoa Road prison,” Donnie informs us.

There’s no love loss between Neil and Randall Ireland since Randall brained his brother with a baseball bat and basically “threw him under the bus,” to take all the blame for their shared crimes against women.  I don’t know what kind of information Donnie thinks he’ll get out of Neil.

Donnie has been talking to Davis and Jake, but I’ve only been half listening.  My mind has left the present and has traveled back to how Neil used me and passed me off to his brother, Randall.  I catch the end of Donnie’s sentence, “I think he’ll work a deal.  Roll over on his brother.  Neil has got to know something.”