CHANCE ENCOUNTER
She sat back and watched him for a distance as she had been doing for days. She was frustrated because she hadn't found out much about him other than his name. She again realized how much of a challenge he presented to her, but she was intrigued. He was much more handsome and younger than Ced. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was brooding. Perhaps he was even a bit on the angry side. She liked that. It meant he was a man always on his toes. He'd likely be suspicious of every person he encountered, including women. She ran her tongue over her lips as she watched him walking back and forth, speaking urgently on a cell phone. She wanted to wait before she met him.
* * *
In Michigan, a family sat around the dinner table discussing Joel Kennedy and his grieving young widow, Brianna. Of course, Brianna no longer resided in Michigan, but they weren't sure where she had gone. All they were sure of was that she had taken off with more than seventy percent of Joel's fortune. Unlike Ced's family, they were more concerned with Joel's death than his fortune. Kennedy had died of a massive heart attack, but they were having a hard time coming to terms with his death. In fact, they were quite suspicious of the way he died. There was no reason for him to have had a heart attack. He was relatively young, only forty, and was in perfect health. The family had power and influence in their state. They made plans to have Joel's body exhumed.
Meanwhile in Texas, another family was discussing the death of Cedrick Clawson. They thought that Sam's explanation was a bit unbelievable. Ced's nephew, Miles, was a 'cop' wannabe. He decided to take the law into his hands and to initiate an investigation. The first place he stopped was the hotel where his uncle died. None of the employees were eager to give any information to Miles. The manager had basically forbidden them to say anything, because he was terrified that the family wanted to sue the hotel. Miles was not dissuaded that easily. He took his cock and bull straight up to the manager. Of course, the Clawson name in Texas was a big deal, and he was literally kissing Miles' feet. However, he didn't know anything other than what he saw the night Clawson died.
Frustrated now, Miles was tempted to kick a hole in the wall. He was counting on Uncle Ced's money to get him out of his gambling debt, and he couldn't get his hands on any money while Sam had it. Of course, what Ced never knew was that Miles had had a very brief fling with Sam before she married his uncle. He began to slam his way out of the hotel when a housemaid stopped him. She gave him the information he needed to hear. Satisfied for the time being, Miles hurriedly left the hotel and made his way back home. After downing a ton of gin, he gave his family the news. The housemaid at the hotel had seen Sam carrying in a wasp nest in a plastic baggie. It appeared that Ced's death wasn't exactly a tragic accident.
The families in Michigan and Texas weren't exactly the only ones with 'relative' issues. Other families in California and Utah also had a couple of sudden, unexplained deaths. Sam Crump got around.
* * *
Donovan was making his way home after a long, grueling day. It was a bit past ten at night, and he was more than ecstatic to be home. He couldn't wait to get inside, have a glass of wine, and pass out on the bed a full eight hours. What's sleep, he thought sardonically. Lately, he had gotten very little. It seemed as if every case they had decided to explode all at the same time. He couldn't remember the last day he had slept in his own bed. Was it two days, or four? Who cares? It mattered little right now. His bed was less than a dozen floors away, and his body seemed to be running down the closer he drew near.
He left his car, not caring if he locked it, and headed toward the elevator that would take him to his apartment. On any other night, he might have foregone the elevators and hit the stairs. Not tonight. He was simply too damn tired for it. He impatiently stabbed the 'up' button with his forefinger and waited. If I had taken the stairs, I'd be in bed by now, he grumbled to himself. After a seeming eon, the elevator doors opened. He started to climb inside, but a noise from behind stopped him. He stopped and turned toward the noise. For a moment, he thought his tired brain had begun to make him hallucinate. Donovan stood absolutely still and listened carefully.
The noise came again. It was the sound of a woman cursing under her breath. He was almost too tired to react to it, but he couldn't exactly let it go. Cautiously, he made his way toward the noise. It came from a few cars to the left of his. He moved lithely, keeping his body stiff and his arms tight to his body. It's ten at night; you're not on duty. He shoved the voice aside, wondering if all people in his line of work were schizophrenic. As he drew closer, the curses became clearer. Temptation nearly forced him to take his gun from its holster.
"Shit," a voice said. "Why me? Why today? Fuck it all."
Donovan finally had the woman's car in sight. It was a snazzy Jaguar XJ6. The passenger door was wide open. As he drew closer, he saw the woman. She was kneeled on one knee picking up dozens of books. The first thing that immediately drew his attention was her hair. It was lovely, a deep shade of auburn, and hung just below her shoulders. She had impatiently tucked the locks behind her ears as she set about her task of retrieving the books. She didn't immediately notice Donovan; she continued to curse the books, her 'shitty' life, and the fact that 'no one had offered to help.' Amused in spite of himself, Donovan relaxed. What he thought had been someone in trouble was simply a woman in a fit of rage.
He cleared his throat, the noise echoing in the parking garage. She looked up suddenly and fixed a beautiful set of green eyes on his face. His tall imposing stature intimidated her. He could see the expression in her face. Before he had the chance to announce he was harmless, she stood up shakily.
"Look, I have nothing but these books, but you're welcome to them," she said fearfully.
Donovan wasn't sure if he was tired or evil or both. Almost wickedly, he grinned. "The car is kind of nice."
"It's a rental. But if you want it, take it," she said, the fear never leaving her voice.
He couldn't help but chuckle. He held out his hands as an act of attrition. "No, please, I'm sorry." Yes, I'm evil, he thought, truly evil. "I'm harmless, really."
She studied him suspiciously. She wasn't born yesterday and noticed the gun holstered beneath his jacket. "Oh yeah," she challenged. "Why do you have a gun? You don't look like a cop."
He lifted an eyebrow and matched her glare. "I don't? What does a 'cop' look like then?"
Damn, he's hot, she thought. "Not like you. I was thinking along the lines of Sipowhatzhisname on NYPD Blue."
He shook his head. "I'm not a cop, but I'm also not a thief. I'm Frank Donovan, I live in this building. I heard you and thought you might be in some type of trouble."
Donovan offered his hand to her and she stared at it a moment, as if he had the ability to kill her just by shaking it. She took his hand in hers briefly. It was large and warm with long, tapered fingers. "The only trouble I'm in," she began, "is insufferable clumsiness."
"As I noticed," he said while gazing down at the pile of books. "Do you live here? I've never seen you before."
"Nope," she said nonchalantly. "My co-worker lives on twelve. She was helping me with my dissertation." Realizing she had forgotten something, she shook her head incredulously. "I'm sorry, I'm Loralei Kadin, and this," she said as she swept her hand over the pile of books, "is my mess, which I need to get back to."
Without ceremony, she went down on one knee again and began picking up her books. Donovan kneeled before her and began helping her gather them. "Really, Mr. Donovan," she said, "you don't have to."
"No, I want to," he said, and he meant it. "By the way, I'm Frank, not Mr. Donovan."
Every few seconds, he would pick up a book and glance at her face. Her skin was clear and peachy, with a scattering of freckles across her nose that she had desperately tried to hide with makeup. She was beautiful and intriguing. She looked up once and met his gaze. Her cheeks pinked considerably. This fellow had the loveliest dark brown eyes. They seemed to be able to read her, to know her thoughts. She vaguely wondered if he had been able to read her passing 'he's hot' thought. Unsettling, but sexy.
When the last book was collected and thrown into the car, they each began to stand at the same time. In the process, their heads bumped together. Incredibly embarrassed now, she stood up and rubbed her head. Donovan stood and copied her. Within seconds, they burst into easy laughter.
"I should have warned you that my head is pretty damn hard," she said through hitching guffaws.
He smiled. "I should have warned you of the same."
"Thank you, Frank. I would have been out here for an hour collecting those books and papers if it hadn't been for you." She closed the car door and saw that the handsome stranger had not left.
"Would you consider having dinner with me tomorrow night," he asked suddenly, unexpectedly for them both. Donovan wasn't in the habit of asking out rank strangers, but something about her had appealed to him.
She smiled. She had hoped he wanted to ask her out. "Consider it? Okay." She tapped her foot for three seconds. "I'd love to. I know this great Chinese restaurant a block and a half from here. I could meet you there at eight'ish?"
Donovan was amazed. The place she mentioned was his favorite Chinese restaurant. "Sounds great."
She went around to the driver's side door and unlocked it. "Until then?"
He fixed his dark eyes on her and nodded. "Yes, until then."
"Good night, Frank." Before she gave him the chance to speak, she climbed into her car, started it, put it in gear, and pulled out of the parking slot.
Donovan turned and made his way toward the elevators again. He stood for several minutes and waited again for a 'slow-as-Christmas' car to arrive. He climbed inside it and punched his floor. What had started out as a lonely night of wine and sleep had become something a bit more…promising. If he had ignored the curses of the woman, he never would have seen her again. It was strange how fate sometimes stepped in and kicked a man in the ass. It seemed as if good things always came at the most unexpected times.
* * *
The bar was crowded and noisy tonight, but Jake was oblivious to it all. As much as Donovan had before him, he was dog-tired, but needed to unwind. It seemed as if the more people were surrounding him, the better off he was. Grueling was the only word he could think of to describe the last few days. What more could happen tonight? Don't say that or something will happen. He needed a break, needed a vacation, but didn't see that in the works for a long time down the road. Besides, Donovan wanted 110% seven days a week.
Almost sullenly, Jake sat at the bar and nursed his drink. Any other night, he might have downed several and then passed out heavily in bed. Not tonight. He seemed unsettled, as if something was about to happen. Of course, he had always followed his gut reaction when it came to most things, and he hoped that nothing bad was going to happen. After what the team had gone through lately, he'd likely go screaming down the streets if something happened.
Across the way from him, he spotted a young woman seemingly sitting alone. He noticed her right away, because she was a bit unlike the women streaming in and out of the crowd. Her hair was an unusual shade of red, and it fell halfway down her back. He couldn't see much else due to the lights and smoke, but her hair stood out like a red flag. He was immediately intrigued. Although curious, he didn't make one move toward her. Yet, his eyes never left her lovely face. Eventually, she noticed a pair of eyes on her and she looked up. Grinning like a goofy kid, he nodded her way. She returned his grin and nodded back, likely mocking him. He called out for the bartender and sent her another drink. Once she received it, she picked it up and began making her way toward him.
"So," she said through a sigh, "how often do you buy drinks for strange women?"
He smiled his crooked little smile. "Not often."
"I'm Zara," she said.
Zara, he thought, exotic. "I'm Jake."
"Do you mind if I join you 'I'm Jake?'"
He shook his head, suddenly loving the hell out of this. "Don't mind at all."
* * *
That night as Frank and Jake marveled about the terrific women they had met, one of them lay in bed smiling. Her 'chance encounter' had landed her right where she wanted and needed to be. It was wonderful. It would also be a shame. He was so young and handsome. His death would be tragic, of course, but she would give him the universe until she was ready to strike. She wished she could have gotten more information about him before she made her move. However, she still knew so very little. His past, habits, hobbies, dreams, and desires were well hidden. She would uncover them, no matter how long it took, no matter how much she had to sleep with him. Not only did she enjoy challenges, but she also had the patience to match them, to match all of them.
