AN: Thanks so much for continuing to read my story :-) I also appreciate all the feedback I've received. Here is another installment.
Tanith
Chapter 20
Jeannie was exhausted and fell asleep on the drive back to Mike's. When they pulled into the driveway, Whitney brushed loose strands of her brown hair gently away from her face and kissed her forehead. "We're home, sleepy head."
"Hmm..." Jeannie opened her eyes and yawned.
"Come on, I'll walk you to the door." Whitney removed his seat belt, exited the car and walked over to the passenger side to open the door for Jeannie.
When the couple reached the front door, the porch light flickered on and Mike's head appeared. "You kids are out late," he remarked with a hint of disapproval.
"Sorry, Mike. That was my fault. Lost track of the time," Whitney apologized.
An awkward silence fell over the three people as they stood at the threshold.
Whitney cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, good night, Mike."
"Night, Whitney. Drive safe," Mike replied neutrally.
Jeannie bade Whitney a goodnight with one last tender kiss. She waited until Whitney had gone back into his car and driven off before she gave Mike a reproachful look for his comment. I'm not a child!
"Okay, what did I do now?" Mike heaved a heavy sigh as he locked the front door.
"I would hardly call this late, Mike! I mean, look at you – you haven't even changed out of your work clothes which to me suggests you only just got home yourself. And how many late nights have you had? I'm an adult now. Please start treating me like one," Jeannie exploded, although the moment the words had left her mouth in one long rush, she instantly regretted them. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm…I'm going to head up to bed. Good night," she added apologetically. She leaned forward, reached up on her tip toes and kissed Mike on the cheek.
Unprepared for the outburst just moments ago, Mike stood speechless at the bottom of the staircase as he watched his daughter disappear up the steps. He decided after some hesitation over whether he should chase after her or leave her be, that it was probably best to choose the latter option. Perhaps she just needed some sleep, he thought to himself with a sigh.
Steve stepped out of the bathroom and was about to cross the hallway when Jeannie slammed straight into him.
"Steve!" Jeannie gasped in fright.
Winded and seeing stars, Steve placed a hand against the wall to steady himself. The collision had aggravated every bruise on his body and jolted his injured ribs but he tried his best not to let it show. Evidently, judging by the look on Jeannie's face, he wasn't very successful at hiding the pain.
"Oh, Steve! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" Jeannie took hold of Steve's bare arms and bit her lower lip guiltily.
Steve carefully drew some air into his lungs and nodded. "I'm okay. Don't worry about it."
Jeannie was surprised to see the young man shirtless when it was a cool night. She placed her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up."
The lingering smell of Whitney's cologne on Jeannie's clothes assaulted Steve's senses, making him feel irritable and, well, in all honesty, jealous as the green eyed monster he had been trying so hard to contain, reached the surface. "Jeannie, just drop it, okay? I said I was fine! I don't need you or Mike to mother me!"
Stunned by Steve's attitude, Jeannie opened her mouth to respond but clamped it shut again. If anyone had the right to be mad, it was her, she thought, angrily. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she finally said tersely before she walked past Steve and into her room, shutting the door behind her.
Feeling the guilt starting to build in his gut, Steve walked over to Jeannie's room and raised his hand to knock on the door but his pride won him over and stopped him. Turning away with a sigh, he made his way back to the guest room when Mike appeared at the top of the stairs. "What?" The last thing Steve wanted to hear was another one of his partner's lectures.
"Nothing. You know, pneumonia is no ball game when you got busted ribs. It's gonna be a cold night so you might want to put at least a shirt on," Mike said matter-of-factly then without waiting for a response he walked into his room and shut the door quietly, hoping that Steve would heed his advice.
Sheepishly Steve did in fact decide to consider his mentor's suggestion. Pulling on a shirt as carefully as he could, he tucked himself into bed with all the blankets covering him up to his chin. He knew he was running a temperature so he ignored the discomfort and the urge to push all the blankets back off him. It proved to be a restless night for the young man, riddled with strange nightmares that he couldn't even piece together rationally. Sometime in the early hours of the morning he had snuck into the kitchen and took another dose of pain killers. The creaking of the stairs had alerted Mike and he found Steve leaning over the breakfast bar using his good hand to support himself.
"You okay?" Mike asked worriedly.
Steve merely nodded as the shooting pain in his skull made forming an intelligible reply too much of an effort.
Mike gave the back of the young man's neck a gentle squeeze. "How you doin' really, Buddy Boy?"
"My head's killing me. Everything else just hurts like hell," Steve finally answered with a groan.
"How many of those have you taken?" Mike pointed at the bottle of meds on the counter.
"I don't know. I took some a couple of hours ago I think," Steve said, heaving a shaky sigh.
Mike's brow creased with concern as he picked up the bottle and read the directions. "Steve, you need to take it easy on these!"
"Yeah, well, they don't seem to be working anyway."
"That's because you've been taking them on an empty stomach. They're meant to be taken with food!" Mike pocketed the bottle. "You can have them back tomorrow. I'll swing by after the morning briefing and bring you something to eat. In the mean time I'll make you some tea."
"Great," Steve mumbled. "Thanks." While he appreciated the gesture, he had little in the way of confidence that a cup of tea will do him any good. Still, he had already upset one Stone tonight so he decided to bite his tongue.
George Holden had just finished drawing the last puff of his Cuban cigar when his son walked through the front door. "How was dinner?" He asked disinterestedly.
"Great! How did the conference go?" Whitney called out. He dropped his father's car keys into the bowl on the table in the entrance hall and shrugged out of his jacket.
"Well, once that China man and his wife sign the papers for us to buy their crummy laundromat, we'll have the green light to start Project Evergreen. But I don't think we'll have any more problems getting their cooperation," George said smugly.
Whitney walked into his father's office with a curious look on his face. "What makes you so sure?"
"For starters, while you've been busy playing Love Boat with that Jenny girl, I've made certain arrangements to help our cause," George replied scathingly.
"It's Jeannie, dad. If by arrangements you mean you've sent Sid and Johnny to threaten them, well I've tried that."
"Those amateur clowns?" George released a hollow laugh.
"What'd did you do – pay some hood to beat the living daylights out of them?" Whitney questioned suspiciously.
"I'd prefer to call it the power of persuasion. If you knew a thing about what it takes to be a successful businessman, I wouldn't have to explain that to you," George reprimanded.
Whitney's face started to burn. He'd just come home after a wonderful evening, the last thing he wanted to hear was his father's lectures and condescending soliloquys. "So you keep reminding me."
"And need I remind you you're sleeping with a cop's daughter?" George shot back angrily.
"She's my fiancé and I'm well aware who her father is! You know what, dad? I'm not getting into this with you again. I've had a long wonderful night. I'm off to bed."
"By the way, you have me to thank for cleaning up after your little mess with Sid and Johnny."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Whitney tried to skirt away from the subject without success.
"Don't play dumb with me, boy. Those two low lives were blackmailing you. Don't think I don't know what goes on behind my back!"
What'd you do – throw them in the bay? Was what Whitney wanted to say but for the sake of not making things worse for himself, he refrained from the temptation. Besides, if his father did throw them in the bay, he'd rather not have any knowledge of it.
"And, son, if I find out you broke into that cop's house and worked him over, your problems with Sid and Johnny are going to feel like child's play. The last thing we want is to be on their radar. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Whitney grated before removing himself from his father's domineering presence.
AN: Those of you waiting for Whitney's reaction to Steve's presence in the Stone residence, this will take place in the next chapter.