Previous chapter: Bulma accepts Vegeta's marriage proposal. Josh Marley's plotting takes a new turn. Mysterious and upsetting letters are sent to Ambrose, Bulla, and Vegeta. Tarble comes to town to investigate.

Calculations besieged Bulma's mind like a swarm of wasps. Two and two didn't equal five. She couldn't discount any potential perpetrator – namely, political operatives - but this emerging harassment had the stench of organized crime. Yet this wasn't New York or Chicago or Philadelphia or New Jersey. Bulma also wasn't that gullible to believe random gangsters had her on a shoot-to-kill list, even though she had once been a prosecutor.

Nonetheless, the perpetrator had enough sophistication to obtain unsettling private information. As a juvenile, Cricket's case files should have been sealed from public view and, later, deleted. All documents Bulla received would still have to be professionally authenticated. If they were fake, that still didn't scratch the surface of the motivation behind the act.

Bulma looked down. "I'm… I'm sorry about the glass."

"It's all right," Tarble said, wiping the floor. "We have plenty around here. My apologies as well. I don't lose my temper like this often."

"It's justifiable, Tarble, but Ambrose and I wouldn't have kept quiet about threats to the family's safety."

Tarble eyes filled with sadness. "Gure didn't think it was a good idea to have children. It's…just…just that Bulla is so precious to me. Why someone would attack an innocent child, I can't fathom."

"She must be afraid. I'm so sorry."

"My niece's courage is commendable. She fears more for her father. He's the happiest I've seen since your engagement, but Vegeta still deeply mourns our mother. He doesn't have to say it. Mama wouldn't want it this way, but that's where we are. Does this surprise you?"

"No, and I give your brother space. It helps when we visit the cemetery together. Mourning is complicated, and I've seen my fair share."

Tarble's thoughts split between near and far. "I loved Cricket just as much, but our relationship was different. They both protected me. Vegeta struggled with feeling like he couldn't protect her enough before our father died. In some ways, parts of his heart shut out everyone after he left home. Shame can be so insidious."

Fear filled Bulma's eyes as she gripped the chair's armrest. "Oh my god. Call him now! Both of us aren't thinking clearly. What if he's in danger on this Jersey trip? He said we'd discuss more after seeing Bulla's mom."

Tarble scrolled the messages on his phone. "Don't worry yourself about that too much yet. He's fine for now."

"How do you know?"

"Because I hired security detail to follow him, using his car-rental information. He's visiting a run-down neighborhood in Newark but staying at a motel farther from there. Vegeta and I have shared a credit card for years, for emergencies."

"That would have been helpful for me to know," Bulma said sharply.

"Your anger is misplaced," Tarble said, mildly scolding her with a warm smile. "You just got engaged. Are you blending your finances yet? No, because that takes time. There's no big secret. He'll tell you. Have you met Alejandra yet?"

"No."

"I have, just once. She… is a character, but a kind woman. Maturing can take longer for some people. She fits that description. Anyway, I hired another person to keep an eye on Bulla too. I suggest confidentiality on that."

"I won't say anything, but we don't have much more to go on here legally," Bulma replied. "I'll speak with Krillin and state-police security. They're tracking other concerns. Ambrose too."

"Let me talk with Vegeta alone about Bulla and the package about Cricket."

Bulma's neck rose in protest. "No, Tarble. That's where I must draw the line. I won't be relegated to the background like some castle-bound maiden. I should be right there with you. No matter how painful, none of this should be an embarrassment if proven true. I suspected Cricket may have been exploited at a young age, but that discussion wasn't mine to broach. Not everything Bulla received was the truth either, I suspect. "

Tarble her hands. "Let me put it another way. This is about his daughter. Allow me the privilege to be another protector in Vegeta's life. I haven't been the unassuming little brother in a while. I'm sturdier than Vegeta believes. Consider how long I've been married - and to whom."

"All right." Bulma patted his cheek, quietly laughing with him. "I'll take a seat and prepare for the fallout. What does Gure think of all this?"

Tarble held his breath briefly, checking his phone again. "Gure and I will discuss this when it's appropriate. Right now, it is not."

Bulma frowned. "I'm not sure about that, Tarble. If I were your wife -"

"You would want to know immediately – and you aren't anything like my wife. Gure and I are safe, from my judgment, and I prefer delaying the almost-certain arguments and overreactions about my response."

After final hugs with Tarble, Bulma found Krillin standing sentry in the estate's foyer. He hadn't felt well in the past few days, and now it showed considerably. Bulma felt guilty, listening to him cough through a face mask. She had to reset the boundaries of his professional dedication to her.

"Something serious?" he asked hoarsely.

Bulma held his shoulder as they walked out. "It has the appearance of seriousness, which we'll discuss later. First, you should rest. Someone else in security can drive me until you're feeling better."

"I'll be all right, governor," Krillin replied, wiping his shiny head. "I'm two steps ahead of you. One of the guys came out to drive. We'll sit in the front."

Bulma unexpectedly found Ambrose waiting for her in passenger section. His eagle-winged eyebrows and puckered lips confirmed more trouble on the horizon. She didn't want anything worrisome to push him back into drinking, but his treatment seemed to be working out.

He gallantly reached for her hand. "You needn't bring up any concern about me taking a drink. I haven't. However, the wine on your breath is noticeable. Perhaps you should start with the reason for Tarble's visit."

"You came unannounced too," Bulma said with a sigh. "Why don't you take the lead?"

"You OK, bumblebee? Your voice is scratchy."

"Your brother just asked me that twenty minutes ago."

"Yeah, and he's not on our call anymore, Bulma, so stop stonewalling."

"I'm… fine. Just worried about you and what happened to Alejandra. You sound exhausted already."

"I'll return soon, and Bulla's mom will be OK. I want to know who sent that letter about her. Thanks… for trusting me. Everything happened so quickly. Despite her faults, Alejandra was good to me."

"You don't have to explain any more, Vegeta. I understand. We'll catch up later."

Bulma sweat like a rugby player throughout their call, restlessly staring into a mirror. Having her miscarriage history callously dangled like a pinata in front of her chief of staff – at his home – prompted a ferocious round of furious hollering in her bathroom. Warfare, not fright, saturated her thoughts.

Ambrose and Krillin waited patiently for her return to the mansion's library. Bulma entered wearing a grey track suit and training shoes, holding a notepad and pens. Krillin was dozing a soft chair in the room's left corner. After coughing through most of the day, he appreciated the temporary breather the other patrolman offered, providing the local drug store's nastiest-tasting cough drops.

"Krillin, hon, I told you to rest. We'll keep you informed."

"Just stop being contrary, preacher," Ambrose said, pouring water for everyone. "Git."

Krillin took a hard swallow, regaining his voice. Ambrose had taken to calling him "preacher," which annoyed at times. "I'll leave when I'm ready. Vegeta shouldn't have run off without more explanation, Bulma. I don't care if Tarble has a black car tailing him in Jersey."

"He didn't run off," Bulma said. "I wasn't upset when he left either. Tarble and I just had a three-way call with him. Bulla's mother is… severely addicted to prescription drugs."

Krillin's hands joined. "Oh no. I'm so sorry."

"It's OK. Vegeta and Alejandra's brother are moving her into another environment to receive better treatment and be closer to family. I'm glad he can help."

"But I'm certain the letter Vegeta received about Alejandra wasn't meant to be benevolent," Ambrose said, angrily shaking his leg. "Who the hell was her supplier? Who found and sought info from that supplier? This is a coordinated hit, Bulma - period. It could be better for Vegeta and Bulla to leave town for a spell until we sort this out."

"Vegeta will never agree to that for himself," Bulma said. "Possibly for Bulla, but that would be a struggle too. Furthermore, I also don't believe any of us should give in easily. I'm the fucking governor and an ex-prosecutor! We don't know the exact motive or what they're seeking – other than to upset me and Vegeta - and I won't be held hostage. We will increase security and overall investigation."

Ambrose and Bulma rushed to Krillin's side as his faced reddened from coughing.

"We're getting you out of here, buddy," Ambrose said, appearing more concerned. "No more backtalk."

Krillin steadied his breathing, looking up. "You think Marley is behind this?"

Ambrose stared at Bulma. "The ripple effects would be murder the careers of some others in his party, especially with women voters. Il Duce Marley is a swamp creature, but testing tactics such as these this early - just to mentally fuck with likely opponents - also wastes resources. We aren't in a congressional race after all. Josh must go big to oust Bulma as governor but not look like a total villain. That said, we can count on more than a few who would fall in line to do whatever that impudent brat wants if he wins. He'll get some national attention."

"Maybe another group is behind it, giving him cover to look the other way," Bulma suggested. "Plausible deniability."

"We could speculate all evening," Ambrose replied. "As you said, Bulma, we don't know where this falls on the political-bullshit meter yet."

Krillin sweat profusely, increasing his exhaustion. "Pardon me for not listening to you both. I do think I should lie down. Bulma, I'll feel better tomorrow to help out."

Bulma exhaled. Perhaps she needed to hire surrogate mother to kick the ass of every outrageously stubborn man in her life. "You'll sleep in the mansion's eastern hall instead of the carriage house tonight, Krillin. I want a doctor here to see you as soon as possible."

"Hi, daddy."

"Hey, princess. Technical problems are delaying my flight, but I won't be here overnight. What's up?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice."

Vegeta didn't need special insight to sense Bulla's unhappiness. Pent-up stress radiated from those seven words more so than normal. He wanted to be physically present to discuss Alejandra but decided not to delay the unavoidable. Bulla wasn't alone, with Tarble insisting that she join him at the estate. Not once had she showed concern about her mother despite Vegeta's hasty departure to New Jersey.

"You usually have exclusive access to me, kid."

Bulla smiled, putting him on speakerphone. "I won't keep you long, daddy. Granny told me before she died how important downtime would be for you after she left this world."

"Your granny called it 'think time.' I'm not partial to that other word, really, but I have proven my willingness to set aside my needs for my only daughter –- don't you think?"

"No argument there," Bulla said, laying on a mammoth bed in her suite. "You OK?"

"Bulla, let's not meander. As long as I'm breathing, we can deal with the rest later. We need to discuss your mother. I'd rather speak in person, but your uncle is there to support you until I arrive. I'm sorry to say this, but your mom is ill. I got an anonymous letter about her. She has a severe drug addiction."

Bulla mentally traced the ceiling's painted designs as he spoke. Despite her overall extraversion and emotiveness, she could detach from her feelings as easily as her father. Bulla had fewer triggers than Vegeta, the main one being most discussions about Alejandra.

"OK."

"Your uncle Carlos and I moved her from a shabby home to receive treatment closer to her family."

"Tarble is my uncle. Mom's family's hasn't stopped being angry since you moved away with me."

Years earlier, Tarble made the mistake of telling Gure about Vegeta's trouble with Alejandra's family, though not with the woman's youngest brother, Carlos. Gure delivered the news with Bulla, who was twelve at the time, during a lunch at her estate, saying it was "for her own good" to know. Gure believed Vegeta unwisely blocked a clean separation from "possibly untrustworthy relations more interested in money," which she also "shared" with her niece.

"Have you ever heard me say that, Bulla? Actually, I'll amend that question. Who put that on your mind? I'm sure it wasn't Cricket."

"Doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't, Antonia. I just asked you a straight question. Answer."

Bulla had to tone down their escalating conflict. Telling her father about Gure's comments would be another nail in the woman's coffin, and the teenager still loved her meddlesome aunt. Bulla also hated that Vegeta would soon walk into another explosive situation about Cricket's past. But she had feelings too, tiring of her father's attempts to strengthen a connection she didn't want.

"Daddy, what you're doing for Alejandra is one of many reasons why I look up to you, but stop trying to get me to care so much. What if she ends up like your father no matter how much help she's offered? You're worried her addiction means nothing could be salvaged for our mother-daughter relationship."

Having a smart kid brought Vegeta constant enjoyment, but days like this felt like walking barefoot on hot coals. He also suspected Gure had a hand in Bulla's behavior. "I'll lay off – for now. Arguing with you before a flight is a losing battle. What's the real issue bothering you? I can at least think about it on my flight before we talk again."

Bulla muted her phone, crying. He truly wore his heart on his sleeve for her. After taking a breath, she replied, "I'm entitled to being concerned about you, daddy, just as you are about me. Hearing your voice helped me feel better - excluding our argument. Have a good flight."

"Be ready for a diner dinner when I get there," Vegeta said, touching her picture. "Choose a place, and then we'll head home."

A well-dressed man held up a placard with Vegeta's name as passengers left the plane in St. Louis. Vegeta frowned. He would never order a black car to retrieve him, preferring to ride a chartered bus back to Jeff City.

"Mr. Rutledge?"

Vegeta dropped his bag – politely, but no smile followed. The driver looked barely out of diapers. "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Alex," the sandy-haired young man said enthusiastically. "Your brother sent me. He's asked that you stay the night at Yardley estate."

"Well, I can't do that," Vegeta replied. He fully believed Tarble sent the unfortunate man, given the ambush. "I need to be at home. You can take me there after picking up my daughter from the estate."

Alex appeared crestfallen. "Please, sir, this is my first week on the job with my company."

"Is my brother paying extra?"

"Yes, sir," Alex said hesitantly.

Vegeta turned on his phone, irritably banging out a text to Tarble. "Unfortunately, Alex, you are a pawn in that man's attempt to impose his will on his older brother. Just because it's your first week on the job doesn't mean I should feel sorry for you."

"No, sir."

Vegeta handed Alex his bag. "Here's a lesson. Ask better questions before accepting more money from anyone for anything. Does your company know my brother offered to pay two times your normal rate?"

"Your brother spoke with me directly after the job was assigned." Alex's cheeks prickled as he led Vegeta to the car. Having the truth yanked out of him by the older man this easily felt embarrassing.

Vegeta's eyebrow did a slow climb. "We could be gangsters, for all you know."

Now amused, Alex shook off his nervousness. "I'm the youngest of four boys in my family, Mr. Rutledge, who all delighted in hassling me. I can't imagine how your brother survived yours."

"He's done well for himself," Vegeta said with a prideful grunt. "Let's hit the road, kid."

Bulla ran to hug her tired father as soon as the car door opened. Other guests at the estate smiled, watching them walk inside.

Vegeta wrecked her neatly brushed hair as they entered a private office, followed by Tarble. "So no diner food tonight, I guess. Why didn't you say you wanted to stay here longer with your uncle?"

"You don't want to be here with us, daddy?"

"Being with you isn't the problem," Vegeta replied. He and Tarble silently assessed each other, as protective brothers do. "I don't want to be here. This place isn't…a part of my life anymore."

Bulla and Tarble shared cautious glances, accepting that the talk about Cricket couldn't happen there.

"Vegeta, I asked the kitchen to make porterhouse steaks – with all the fixings – for us," Tarble said, nudging his arm. "They're your favorite, and we haven't indulged ourselves like that together in a while."

"Did you invite Bulma for dinner? I haven't heard from her since the drive down here."

"Yes, and she wants us to have time alone while I'm still in the city."

Nothing felt right, but Vegeta decided to blame himself. Dropping everything to leave town had been tiring. He accepted the hospitality, enjoying a fine meal and playing board games with Tarble and Bulla like the teenager he once was.

Besides seeing Bulma, returning to the store the next morning topped Vegeta's priority list. Tarble couldn't convince him to wait a few more days but negotiated that Vegeta would spend a few hours at Black Orchid and then return home. Not having Gure around kept the older Rutledge sibling more at ease. The brothers had a late lunch on Vegeta's deck, entertained by all manner of small creatures attempting to break into the bird feeder. None were birds.

"So what's eating at you?" Vegeta asked. "This trip isn't only about being with Bulla, though that was the best result. Her close friends' parents are trustworthy enough – meeting my standards - to house her."

Tarble poured coffee, collecting his thoughts. "I... asked for Bulma Jean's permission to let me do this without her for now. Vegeta, Bulla received an anonymous package at school with some disturbing information about mama. It upset her, but you see she's…."

Vegeta entire body tensed up. "And Bulla told you about this before me? Then you make a pact with my fiancée over how to tell me? Why?"

"Because," Tarble said softly, "you're still struggling over mama's death – a lot. We're concerned."

Enraged, Vegeta stood up, flipping over his plate and coffee cup. "Those reasons take a back seat to my child's welfare, damn it! Neither you nor Bulma had any right to wait, and Bulla shouldn't feel the need to protect me! I have worked my ass off to keep her safe and not feel how we did as kids!"

Tarble inhaled. "Vegeta, you left town at the drop of hat to be a savior for Alejandra –- barely offering a complete explanation to your fiancée."

Vegeta glared at him. "Alejandra is Bulla's mother. Bulma understood why I had to leave."

"True, but you are still repeating the pattern from our childhood," Tarble replied. "Now that mama's gone, you have to break that seal. No matter how much you love Bulma and my niece, depression could take you down. I know you. You're on the edge. You can never hide it from me."

Feeling a headache coming on, Vegeta returned to his seat. "Enough of that, Tarble. What was in that package?"

Tarble's mouth trembled as he opened a handkerchief, wiping his eyes. "We have to verify the documents Bulla received, but Bulma and I believe a lot of the details are accurate - but not everything. Mama was hurt in a bad way, Vegeta, in many ways when she was young. I'm so, so sorry Bulla got caught up in this."

Vegeta instantaneously knew what "hurt" meant. The disclosure felt like two swords through his gut. Life could be unbearably cruel to everyday people, but he tried hard to set aside those thoughts to do the best he could. Nothing could be done about what happened to Cricket, but his sweet, affectionate daughter's welfare had been compromised at school, a place where all kids should feel safe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling Bulla, who immediately began sobbing. "It's all right. Don't apologize for crying. You did... the right thing by telling your uncle. I'm proud of you. I'm sorry you felt more scared about me. You don't have to spend the night at Erin's house. Tarble and I are OK. You can come home."

Bulma arrived at 11:30 p.m. She hugged Bulla for a long time, also apologizing profusely, before going to Vegeta's bedroom. After knocking a few times and receiving no answer, she spoke.

"May I come in, Vegeta, please?"

Vegeta opened the door abruptly, appearing haggard. Normally, he would have felt relieved. Instead, he felt hollow. It would pass, but spending the evening reassuring his daughter left him drained. The medicine he took for his awful headache made him extremely groggy, so much so that he almost didn't make it out of bed. After stepping aside for Bulma to enter, he climbed back under the covers without a word.

Bulma picked up the pill bottle. He had to be feeling quite unwell to take medicine that strong. Tarble must have asked a doctor and had them delivered. She soaked a hand towel in cool water in the bathroom, returning to his side. Vegeta's eyes opened muzzily as Bulma daubed his forehead, temples and neck. She didn't fault Tarble. He made the best decision. She also expected Vegeta to be angry with her. Guilt that this happened to Bulla ripped at her insides, though. Honor meant nothing to certain people anymore. Someone would pay for this, she vowed.

But like Ambrose said, the situation could get better or worse. Bulma tried to push their spats over Vegeta out of her mind. Her iron-willed fiancée believed he was ready to face more challenges, but his vulnerabilities had been penetrated already. The political competition cycle had barely begun. Had she been hasty and selfish by accepting his marriage proposal?

"I'm sorry you're feeling poorly, hon. I'm just so sorry about all this."

Vegeta rolled over on his left side. "I'll be… fine. Just… let me sleep it off."

Bulma got into bed, embracing his back. Vegeta held her hand, tightly. This incident was the tip of the iceberg, and he expected Bulma had far more to tell. Before falling asleep, he wanted to assure her that no injustices confronting them –- present or future - would break their bond or his love for her.

Your comments and speculation are welcome.