"Very well, Ettore," Creswell released with just a hint of annoyance. Normally quite capable of hiding his feelings, today he was finding it difficult to employ his usual tactics. "Thank you for your consideration in calling to inform me of your decision. Miss Taylor will be calculating the monthly commissions and payroll tomorrow and should have your final paycheck ready on Wednesday." He waited long enough to hear the response at the other end of the phone line before pulling the receiver away from his ear and staring at it mutely. Shrugging uselessly, he cradled the receiver as he shook his head.
Ettore Sansone had everything it took to be a top line salesperson. He could easily have reached an earning potential well into six figures. His explanation of sales just not being his ambition in life really didn't make sense to Creswell. Wasn't money the ultimate ambition in life? "So be it," he muttered tiredly. He had other matters to attend to that were much more pressing than the life's ambition of a now former employee.
As he reached for the latest daily management report, his phone rang again. This time it was his cell phone and not the office phone. As he flipped the thin gadget open, he read the incoming number and felt the familiar dread wash over him. He felt the beads of sweat break out on his upper lip and rubbed them away in complete frustration. It went against everything in him to allow anyone or anything to instill such fear and foreboding in him. Nelson Creswell was a man of self-confidence, pride, and determination. He ran a hand through his silver-gray hair and released a disheartened sigh. It was a sad tribute that all he had come to admire within himself could be quickly dispelled at the sight of a phone number.
"Yes?" he barked into the phone with more assurance than he felt.
"It is time, my friend."
Creswell's stomach rolled at the sound of the heavily accented Hispanic voice. "I'm well aware of that."
"Then you should be ready to take delivery of the vehicles in two night's time."
"This will be the last of the vehicles I can accept from you," he spat hatefully. "Your price is far too high."
"As will your payment be if you do not follow through with the negotiated contract," the man answered coolly. "I do believe we have an understanding, yes?"
"This can't
continue…"
"It will continue as long as it is profitable for my business. I will tell you when it is not…and you will
receive that message in grave detail."
Creswell understood only too well the implication of that statement. Again his stomach made its presence known as he felt the need to vomit assault his senses with a fierceness he had never experienced before. "Very well. In two night's time."
"Until then, my friend."
~*~
Frank hung up the phone after speaking to Creswell and immediately turned in the direction of Cody. "Something bothering you?" he asked curtly upon hearing the frustrated sigh come from the young agent.
"Nothing that a huge aspirin won't cure," he snapped as he pushed away from the computer and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've been through every hospital database in the vicinity of Savannah and nothing matches the parameter of your search request."
"Then keep looking," he insisted. "And don't stop until you discover just who this Bubo really is."
Cody stood and walked over to the small refrigerator and pulled out a Mountain Dew. "Sure thing, Boss," he groused humorlessly. "And while I'm at it, I'll be sure to discover the location of Jimmy Hoffa's body."
"Just get it done, Forrester," Donovan growled as he moved to the window. He stared through the glass with unseeing eyes. His patience was wearing paper-thin as he waited for word from Jake as well as the information he had requested Cody to find. Jake last reported that the vehicles that were to be delivered to Creswell had arrived at the docks. Surveillance had been set up to closely watch the cars until they were loaded on the trailers for delivery to the dealership. Suspicions were that the drugs were stowed in the vehicles, but there was no trace of them when the vehicles were inspected before leaving Italy. Upon arrival into the United States K-9 officers specializing in drug detection also inspected them. No drugs were ever found.
The sound of the phone ringing startled Donovan from his thoughts. He nodded to Cody to put the call on speaker and issued a gruff acknowledgement.
"Hey, Donovan," Jake's voice poured into the room. "Can't talk long…the gang will be back soon. Nothing odd happening at the docks yet, but I'm expecting it to remain that way until late this evening."
"Check back in later," Donovan insisted firmly. "The minute you see anything suspicious, check in."
"You got it."
The call ended as quickly as it began. It seemed the majority of their time had been spent waiting and Donovan understood that it was a misfortune of the job. Understanding and accepting were two different things. He was restless and eager for this to be over. He dreaded telling Taylor the truth about who he really was and what he was doing in her life. He wasn't stupid enough to believe she would be happy with the lies and games, but he was hopeful that after her anger subsided, she would give him…them…a chance.
~*~
"You didn't have to do that," Taylor protested softly into the receiver. Inwardly, she was happily surprised by the news that had just been shared with her.
"Believe me," Frank drawled lazily. "It is much easier this way."
"What will you do now?" she asked with a sudden sense of foreboding. She remembered him saying he was traveling, not really settling in one place. Would he pull up stakes and leave Savannah? Of course, that made no sense if he quit his job as saleswhore so that he could be with her. Leaving now would defeat the purpose of quitting.
"At the moment, I do not know," he replied truthfully. "But I have several prospects lined up in the next two days." More lies. He ran a hand through his unruly long hair before reaching for the report Monica silently handed him. "How's Bubo?" he asked concernedly in an attempt to distract himself from the lies he continued to bestow upon Taylor.
"Better. His fever broke," she answered. "And he's raring to be on his way. I'm trying to keep him here for at least one more night."
Frank sighed. Taylor trusted the homeless man implicitly; however, something beyond the obvious nagged at Donovan. "I cannot help but feel you are taking a chance," he protested evenly, not wishing to anger her.
"I'm not, Ettore," she insisted, cutting him off. "I know Bubo; he's a good man."
"But do you really know him, Taylor? Can you even tell me his real name?"
There was a long pause before she finally answered a disheartened, "No."
"No. I did not think so," he replied,
troubled. "If you insist on keeping
him in your house, then I insist you call the diner and order lunch for three.
I will pick it up within the hour."
"Excuse me?" she asked, thrown off slightly by his commanding tone.
"You can be responsible for dinner later," he said half jokingly. While he waited for anything to turn up from the surveillance or word from Jake, he would keep an eye on Taylor and her houseguest.
"Admit that it isn't just to baby sit me while Bubo is here," she prodded lightly.
Frank chuckled. "You see right through me."
"No. But I can't wait to see you," she whispered sensuously.
Frank fairly melted at the sound of her voice. "Call in the order, Taylor. Soon the wait will be over for both of us."
~*~
True to his word, Frank stopped by the diner to pick up lunch. Jeanie demanded a brief moment of his time, trying to determine what part he played in Taylor's life in order to be privy to her relationship with Bubo. He shared what little he could, or what he felt he needed to, in order to appease her curiosity. Under normal circumstances, he might be annoyed with her busybody interrogation, but in reality, he knew it was Jeanie's way of making sure Taylor was in no danger. He could not begrudge Jeanie her desire to protect Taylor. To be honest, it was good to know she had friends she could depend on.
"What took you so long?" Taylor teased as she accepted the containers of food.
"Seems your friend Jeanie was checking me out a bit," he answered shamelessly.
Taylor laughed good-naturedly. "Of course, it's all about you, Ettore."
Frank's laughter joined hers. "How you hurt me, Taylor," he said with mock indignation. "You assumed I thought she was interested in me sexually, when I meant she was trying to determine whether I am good enough for you."
Her eyes danced with amusement as she stretched up onto tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. "I meant nothing of the sort," she teased. "Now come help me with this. I hope Bubo has an appetite."
Following her to the kitchen, they placed the sandwiches and potato salad Jeanie sent onto plates for easier handling. She also filled a bowl with the hot vegetable soup made especially for Bubo. She then hurried up to Bubo's room to see if he was up to joining them in the kitchen or if he would rather have his meal in his room.
~*~
Shaking his head and sounding off a few whistles, Bubo expressed his desire not to join her and her guest for lunch. Instead, Taylor brought his food to him. He accepted it gratefully, eating every last bite. Later, as the voices drifted up to him from the kitchen, he hurriedly dressed. With his stomach full, his clothes cleaned, and his body warmed, he grabbed up the bottle of antibiotics on the nightstand and quietly left the house without either Taylor's or her friend's knowledge. He would find a way to thank her for her kindness…later.
~*~
"We can go look for him if it will put you at ease, cara," Frank offered sincerely.
Just after they had finished eating, Taylor had gone upstairs to check on Bubo and found him gone. It was easy to tell how upset she was over his disappearance.
"No," she responded softly with a shake of her head. "He would only leave again. He has to handle things in his own way."
Frank nodded absently as he gathered her into his embrace. "What can I do, Taylor?"
"You're doing it," she whispered softly as she rested her head on his shoulder.
...to be continued.