3 Men and a Body (7 page)

by the cast on her arm.

Even though his own dexterity would be curbed somewhat

by his bandage, he could outcook Carlotta using only his

thumbs and elbows. It was a good thing she was so damn

pretty—no man was going to marry her for her culinary

skil s.

He walked into the now-familiar office and nodded to the

now-familiar surly woman behind the check-in desk.

“Wesley Wren to see E. Jones.” He scanned the waiting

room as nonchalantly as possible. The Carver had once

sent a man here to remind Wesley that he was behind on

his payments, and the thug had punctuated the message

by snubbing out his cigar on Wesley’s hand. That wound

was stil pink and puckering. If he didn’t find a way to get

out of debt soon, his entire body would look like a strip of

badly cut meat. Thankful y, though, no one in the room

seemed to care he was there.

The old bat at the window sniffed. “You can go on back.”

He walked to E.’s office door, adjusted the sleeve of his

shirt so that it didn’t emphasize the bandage underneath,

and rapped.

“Come in.”

He swung open the door and miserably pondered the

tightening of his chest when Eldora Jones lifted her green-

eyed gaze to his.

“Hel o, Wesley.”

“Hi.”

“Have a seat.”

He did, across from her desk. She wore a white buttoned-

up blouse that might have been prim if not for the curves

it clung to.

“How are you?” she asked. Her voice sounded friendly, but

he’d been meeting with her long enough to know that

even an innocuous question was usually leading

somewhere.

“Good.”

“Why did you miss our appointment yesterday?”

He shifted in his chair. “I…was with some guys, lost track of

time. Sorry.”

“You couldn’t cal ?”

“Battery on my phone died.”

“Your sister was really worried. She was afraid you were

hurt.”

“I’m fine.” He smiled and lifted his hands, but the motion

pul ed the tightened skin under the bandage. The sudden

pain took his breath away and made his arm jerk

involuntarily.

“Did something happen to your arm?” she asked.

“Bicycle accident,” he said, continuing with his lie. “I

scraped it.”

She studied his face with a half smile, her green eyes

saying she didn’t believe him. “Sounds as if you were

lucky. You could’ve been hurt much worse.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“You do realize that missing your scheduled meetings is a

violation of your probation?”

Wesley wet his lips. “Thanks for letting me reschedule.”

“Next time you won’t get off so easily.”

He nodded.

“But I’m glad you’re okay,” she added softly.

He glanced up sharply at her tone. She sounded as if

she…cared. But E. averted her gaze, cleared her throat and

opened his file folder, back to business.

“I heard from Richard McCormick. He said he was very

impressed with your computer knowledge when the two

of you spoke. He said if your community service work goes

wel , he might even consider hiring you.”

Wesley knew it was meant to be a compliment, but he had

no intention of toiling away in a cubicle for city wages until

he keeled over. “He seemed like a nice enough guy.”

“When do you start?”

“Monday.”

“Is that going to be a problem with your body-moving

job?”

“Nah, Coop’s cool with my community service. He said

he’d work around it.”

She made a couple of notes, then closed his folder. “Is

there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“Thanks for the concert tickets. I heard Elton was great.”

“Yeah, the show went on after they took your sister to the

hospital. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Thanks.” He fidgeted. “Did your boyfriend enjoy it?”

A little wrinkle appeared in her forehead. “Leonard? Yes,

he enjoyed the concert.”

Wes’s mouth watered. He wanted so badly to tel her that

the concert wasn’t the first place he’d met Leonard. E. sat

back in her chair. “Are you gambling?”

“No.” Not at this very moment, anyway.

“Stil hanging out with that drug-dealer friend of yours?” E.

had intercepted him on an errand Chance had asked him

to run in exchange for money Wesley owed him. Wesley

hadn’t known for certain what was in the gym bag, but

he’d had a pretty good idea. E. had allowed him to take

the bag back to “where it came from,” without any

repercussions.

“He’s not a bad guy,” he said of his friend Chance.

“He’s going to land you behind bars…or worse.”

Wesley wiped his hand over his mouth to keep from tel ing

her that her boyfriend, Leonard, was also keeping

company with his drug-dealing friend. “I’l take that under

advisement,” he responded, standing. “Are we through?”

E. pressed her lips together, then gave a curt nod. “I’l see

you next week. Take care of that arm.”

Wesley left the building in a foul mood. By the time he

rode to Chance’s condo, his arm was throbbing.

His chuffy friend grinned widely when he opened the door.

“Dude—you’re alive!”

Wesley howled in pain when Chance pul ed him into a

choke hold hug. “Watch my arm, man.”

“What happened to it?”

Wesley set his jaw against the pain, leaning over and

holding his arm. When he could talk again he said, “My

loan officer decided to take a pound of flesh.”

“Is it broken?”

“No. I don’t think that would hurt as bad.” Although

Carlotta might argue the point.

Chance dug into his pocket. “Here, dude, take a couple of

these.”

Wesley stared at the white pil s suspiciously. “What are

they?”

“OxyContin. It’s great stuff, man. Wil make you feel good

fast.”

“Thanks.” He took one and swallowed it dry.

Chance dumped the rest into Wesley’s hand. “For later,

dude. If you want to feel like you’ve just been laid by the

woman of your dreams, chew it. Want something to

drink?”

“Soda, if you have it.”

“Coming up. What the hel happened to you?”

“I went to try to patch things up with The Carver.”

Chance’s eyes bulged. “Dude! Are you suicidal?”

“I thought it was the best thing to do, under the

circumstances. He was going to come after me

eventually.”

Chance cracked open a can of Mountain Dew and handed

it to Wesley. “So what did he do to you?”

“Cut me up a little.”

“Really? I always wondered if the rumors were true. Did he

use a bowie knife?”

“Switchblade.”

“Cool.” Then his friend blanched. “I mean—fuck. That had

to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“And he wanted twenty-five grand?”

“Yeah. A fee for pain and suffering, he called it.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help you out, man.”

“That’s okay. I got it.”

“Where?”

“Friend of the family.”

“Sweet. So does that clear your debt with The Carver?”

“Hel , no. Like I said, that was just a fee to let me keep

breathing. I stil owe the guy, like, twelve grand. But I’m

making payments.”

“I’m glad you’re back. I have an economics exam next

week. Think you could take it for me?”

Chance’s sense of self-preservation was more keen than

anyone’s he’d ever met. “Sure. Meanwhile, I need a game.

Can you keep your ears open?”

Chance grinned. “Sure.”

“I’l need a bankrol . Same deal as before—you pay the sit

fee, we split the winnings?”

“Deal. I’l make some phone calls right now. Have a seat,

man, and let the drug kick in.”

Wesley walked into the living room—a bachelor’s dream

of black leather furniture and oversize electronics.

Predictably, the large flat screen was showing porn, this

one of a homemade variety. What the film lacked in

quality it made up for in candid angles. Wesley switched

the input to the latest Xbox gaming system and pul ed up

Poker Smash. He settled into a chair and played a few

hands. The adrenaline and the caffeine helped to speed

the painkil er through his system. He glanced around at

Chance’s toys, conceding that his friend lived a charmed

life.

His life would’ve been like this if his father hadn’t been

forced to abandon his family. Wesley remembered the

piles of toys he’d had when he was little, the expansive

bedroom painted with blue sailboats, the platform that

had held a running train with a real switching station, the

navy-and-gray uniform of the private school he’d

attended. When his father had been indicted, the train

had been sold along with the house. And although Wesley

had been allowed to finish the year at his school, by the

next fall, his parents had been gone for several months.

Carlotta had sat him down and explained that they didn’t

have the money for private school, and soothed him with

the promise that he’d have much more fun in public

school, anyway.

He hadn’t. He’d been a shy, smart little kid with big

glasses, a prime target for bul ies. And he’d missed his

parents terribly. He’d saved his acting out for home. In

hindsight, he’d been a real pain in the ass to his sister…and

it seemed that things hadn’t changed much. Ten years

later, he was stil getting shoved around, and was stil

being a pain in the ass to his sister.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Get that, wil you, man?” Chance shouted.

Wesley looked up to see his friend talking on his cel phone

in the kitchen and scribbling on a piece of paper. He

pushed himself to his feet and got a head rush from the

painkil er. Chance was right—the OxyContin was damn

good stuff. Wes walked careful y to the door and opened

it, then balked.

E.’s boyfriend, Leonard, stood there, tall, dark and beefy.

“Is Hol ander around?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s on the phone. Come on in.”

When Wesley stepped aside to al ow him to pass, he

noticed the man was carrying a black gym bag similar to

the one that Chance had asked him to deliver to some

shady character in a shadier part of town—the errand that

E. had thwarted. It was ironic that her boyfriend appeared

to have picked up where Wesley’d left off.

He closed the door. “I’m Wes.”

Leonard flicked his gaze over him as he paced. “Yeah,

we’ve met before.”

“Right. I didn’t know if you—”

“Hol ander!” Leonard yel ed, obviously impatient.

From the kitchen, Chance held up a finger—his middle

one—but wrapped up his conversation and snapped his

phone closed. “Wes,” he said, striding toward them,

“there’s a big game next Wednesday and you’re in it. Five

grand a seat, twenty seats, and the pot is forty large,

twenty to the winner.”

Wesley nodded, but glanced sideways at Leonard. He

didn’t trust the man with his business, and it didn’t help

that he pretty much hated him for being with E. in the first

place, and deceiving her to boot. He looked at Chance.

“I’m outta here. Call you later.”

He grabbed his backpack and banged the door shut behind

him. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, but

the OxyContin slowed him down a bit. Once he got

outside, though, the fresh air helped to clear his head. He

was unlocking his bike when he heard the sound of heavy

footsteps behind him. He recognized Leonard’s hefty

shadow before he could even look up. When he

straightened, he half expected the guy to kick sand in his

face.

“Does E. know what you do on the side?” Wesley asked,

trying to look taller.

“No,” the guy said through big, gritted teeth. “And if she

finds out, I know where to land with both feet, capiche?”

Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“No. Got a message for you from The Carver.”

Wesley swallowed. Shit, he didn’t see that coming. “You

work for The Carver?”

“Listen up, dickhead, because this is the deal of a lifetime.

A way to clear everything you stil owe.”

Wesley broke out in an instant sweat, exacerbated by the

drug pumping through his bloodstream. Deal of a lifetime?

Something told him this was going to be anything but.

8

Carlotta checked her watch and tried to ignore the fierce

itching under her cast. She’d been ready for more than an

hour. Her suitcase sat next to the door and her heart

pounded with nervous excitement. She was eager to get

out of this house for a few days, and she was looking

forward to spending time with Coop. Even though she

knew he had a crush on her, she also knew he wouldn’t

pressure her, like Peter, or mess with her mind, like Jack.

And when the time came, it would be easy to slip away

from Coop for a few hours. She nursed the tiniest bit of

guilt over using the trip as a cover to get to Daytona

Beach, but no one had to know. She would locate the

Holiday Inn where her father’s fingerprints had been

found, and ask a few questions of her own. Maybe he was

working there. If he was in disguise, Jack could easily

overlook him. He could talk to him and not know it was

him…her father would love that. She wasn’t even sure that