Chapter 10
On the ride home Mackenna convinced herself there was no need for Jake to sleep on her floor and she persuaded him to leave with the promise he’d be the first phone call she made, even before the police, if she sensed trouble. Although the events of the last few days had dulled her senses to the point where she might not recognize trouble when it presented itself. If an asteroid crashed through her sliding glass door right now she’d likely reach for the vacuum and clean up the mess with the thought that she somehow deserved the intrusion. Except she no longer owned a vacuum cleaner. She didn’t own anything anymore, not even her identity. That was the real reason she couldn’t let Jake get a glimpse into her sorry life. No one should see how low she’d sunk.
She didn’t fear Mr. Gleaner knocking on her door as much as she dreaded the embarrassment of Jake seeing the conditions she lived in. He was a nice guy, she conceded. Under other circumstances, she’d be thrilled by his interest. He escorted her to her apartment door but she’d insisted he begin his walk back toward the elevators before she slipped inside. Her stomach fluttered when he winked, reminded her “no kiss” and sauntered away. She’d immediately recalled the kiss in the department store when he seemed so happy to see her and regretted establishing that boundary. His lips had been firm and his kiss possessive. Despite her shock at his actions, a tingle of excitement coursed through her that day. A sweet kiss before stepping into the darkened abyss that now was her home might have eased the pain.
But she’d drawn the line, and Jake made no attempt to cross it. Dumb move, McElroy.
The night passed without incident but she barely slept. The futon was not made for an adult to spend the night comfortably without pillow or blanket. She slept in her clothes, her cell phone clutched in her hand.
This morning, she operated on automatic pilot, rising, showering, and making her way to the East Seventh Street branch. Her sense of relief that Mr. Gleaner would be at the Mound Avenue branch was short-lived. He strolled into the East Seventh Street branch shortly after nine and her morning coffee turned to acid in her stomach. Ten minutes after his arrival, he stood behind her waiting for her to complete a customer’s transaction. His mere presence turned her fingers into thumbs as she clumsily concluded the withdrawal.
“After this customer, close your window and step into the manager’s office please, Miss McElroy.”
He shut the door behind her and lowered the privacy shades on the glass panels that fronted the office and allowed the manager full view of the tellers and customers when it was raised.
Two chairs for visitors were positioned in front of the desk but he didn’t indicate she should occupy one so she stood tall in between them braced for a speech. On what, she’d no idea. The room fell silent while he remained behind her. Finally, she twisted her head to see him over her shoulder.
“Face forward, please.”
She refocused on his empty leather chair, half expecting to be paddled like a mischievous child called to the principal’s office. But schools didn’t do that anymore. When Mr. Gleaner finally spoke, she jumped.
“It’s my understanding that you recently parted ways with your live-in boyfriend, is that correct?”
Damn, Sandy. She was a good friend but she thrived on gossip.
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is the man on the motorcycle? A new beau already?”
He knew about Jake? How? Her eyebrows knitted at the antiquated reference to a boyfriend.
“No, sir. He’s only an acquaintance I recently made.”
“Yet, you allow him to take you home?”
Had Mr. Gleaner been there? Spying on her? She twisted her head but he snapped at her to face his empty chair. What the hell?
“I needed a ride, sir.”
“I offered to come and pick you up.”
“Yes, sir, but Jake was already there. The FBI summoned him along with some other customers. When we left—”
He cut off her words. “Never mind about him.”
More silence, punctuated by her boss’s heavy breathing. Her pulse rate increased and a foreboding prickled her arms with goose bumps.
Mr. Gleaner cleared his throat. “I see that you are in dire financial straits, is that correct?”
It shouldn’t surprise her that he knew about her zero bank account balance. He had full access to all the bank transactions and accounts and, probably some automated delinquent notice had been generated when the bills set for payment directly from her checking account bounced for lack of sufficient funds. Her email inbox likely was full of payment notices and reminders, but without a computer, she hadn’t checked. Ignorance was bliss.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Gleaner stepped behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I can help you with that, Kenna.” Puffs of air hit the back of her neck when he spoke and her spine stiffened. He was that close. “When you walk out of this office, I’ll deposit five hundred dollars into your account. And tonight, after I leave your apartment, I’ll deposit another nine hundred, which will cover your rent payment for this month. It was due five days ago, I believe.”
Her heart exploded in her chest and a wave of nausea overcame her.
“I-I don’t understand, sir.”
The hands on her shoulders moved across her chest and he drew her backward into an embrace. Automatically, she raised her hands to release his hold but he held her tight.
“I can make it better, Kenna, or you can make it worse.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Sir?”
His hands glided over her breasts to her waist and settled on her hips. “I think you understand perfectly. You like men, that’s obvious. You’ll learn to like me. And your financial future will be guaranteed.” His fingers moved slowly, in a walking motion, coaxing the jersey material of her dress upward. “You won’t have to worry about money. Your career here at the bank can soar. It’s your choice, Kenna.”
She began to hyperventilate. And perspire. He’d hiked her dress up to her hips and leaned against her, pressing his erection into her backside.
“You can’t afford to lose your job, can you?”
The arms she planted on the desk to steady her wobbled. “No, sir.”
“I can make it better for you. Bend over, Kenna.”
She held her back stiff. “Please, Ted. Don’t do this. I don’t want you to touch me. Please. Don’t.”
“Two choices, Kenna. Bend over, or pack your shit and get out.”
~ ~ ~
Mackenna rushed to the ladies’ room and vomited. Kneeling on the tile floor, sobbing against the side of the cool, porcelain commode. This was no way to live and she had nothing to live for. Mr. Gleaner would have raped her right there at the desk if the intercom hadn’t buzzed and interrupted him. He’d cursed, said to expect him tonight, and zipped his pants. She’d used the distraction to bolt from the office but that was simply a temporary escape. Mr. Gleaner expected to have sex with her tonight and who knew how many nights after that. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.
Another teller entered.
Mackenna tried but couldn’t contain her sobs.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked.
“I-I’m fine. I just keep reliving the robberies and it’s upsetting. No need to call anyone.”
She wiped her face with a wet towel and returned to her station. She could file an HR complaint but what good would that do? His word against hers and it could cost her job. Once her landlord evicted her, she’d end up one of those dirty, homeless women begging for money and doing who knew what to get it. But wasn’t that what Mr. Gleaner wanted her to do? Give him sex in return for financial gain. No way.
Mr. Gleaner whistled through the rest of the day, smiling at customers and employees alike. The other tellers noticed and twittered about his good mood. Two of the younger women mooned over him, expressing their desires to spend one-on-one time with him. She’d gladly surrender her place in his demented mind.
Toward the end of the day, he approached and touched her elbow, standing close enough that his crotch rubbed her bottom. “Before we go to your place tonight, Kenna, let’s have dinner. I know an Italian restaurant with a fantastic wine list. I’ll ask you to stay late and we won’t leave until everyone else is gone, that way we won’t arouse suspicion.” He hadn’t waited for her to accept the offer.
Even Arthur’s meager attempts at civility were posed as a question when he’d ask, “Do you wanna cook or go out tonight?”
She wouldn’t have believed she could find someone lower than Arthur.
Riding in the passenger seat of Mr. Gleaner’s Cadillac felt like methodical torture. He made small talk, as if he hadn’t nearly raped her hours earlier and didn’t plan to soon. Chitchatting about bank operations, profit margins, and her potential for promotion within the company. As what, his personal whore? She responded with obligatory grunts in the appropriate places, her mind frantic with what was to come and how she could avert it.
One idea continually resurfaced. Jake. If she could call Jake, he might be able to help. Even rescue her. Again. Sheesh, she was becoming so dependent on him, calling him when someone followed her at the mall, letting him fix her car, and now, on the verge of rape, needing a knight to save her.
As soon as they arrived at the restaurant, she asked about the ladies’ room. Mr. Gleaner frowned and said he’d wait for her before taking a table. Her fingers trembled while she searched for Jake’s name in her contact list and her heart sank when the call went to voicemail. Other women had come into the bathroom so she quickly spoke into the phone. “Please call me. It’s important. This is Mackenna.”
Mr. Gleaner looked at his watch when he saw her come out. “Are you all right? You were in there a long time.”
She nodded. “There’s always a line in a ladies’ room.” Her stomach soured as she followed the waitress to a candlelit table for two in the corner. Mr. Gleaner made a show of ordering wine, sniffing the cork, and swirling a taste in his mouth before nodding his approval. Mackenna simply wanted to throw back a couple glasses, get smashed, and make it through the remaining hours of this agonizing interlude.
Her phone rang by the time their entrée arrived and she was on glass number three. Or four? Who was counting?
“’Lo?”
“Kenna? Is that you?”
She giggled. “Un-huh.”
“Kenna? Are you okay?”
“Hey, Jake, ole buddy. How’s it hangin’?”
“Kenna? What’s the matter with you? Where are you?”
“Nothin’s matter, JakeyBoy. I’m enjoying a wonerfull pasta dinner with my boss. At a restaurant.”
His voice grew louder. “Are you crazy? Pasta will make you sick. What the hell are you doing with him, Kenna? Are you drinking? Where are you?”
She giggled and burped. “Oh, ’scuse me. It’s a fine wine. Tastes like grape juice. I like it. Oops, I gotta go. Mr. Gleaner isn’t happy that I’m talkin’ to ya. Bysey-bye.” She held her glass out for a refill.
~ ~ ~
Jake stared at his phone. Dammit. He was still an hour outside of town. How the hell was he going to find her? What time did they arrive at the restaurant and how long until the boss hauled her drunken ass home and took advantage of her? He’d kill the bastard.
He dialed Demond. “Any chance you’re keeping an unofficial eye on Mackenna McElroy?”
“I thought that’s what you were doing.”
“Yeah, well, I also have to placate Vinny Cabacolli and keep tabs on my day job. Never mind, I’ll find her.”
Damn Vinny. He’d taken Jake on his collection runs tonight, confirming the FBI’s intel that businesses paid the Cabacolli family for protection. Jake hadn’t actually witnessed any payoffs because Vinny wouldn’t dirty his hands with a shake down. They remained in the back seat of Vinny’s BMW while one of his goons entered the establishments. There’d been one casualty. A storeowner who didn’t have the full amount. Jake held his breath as Vinny’s enforcer removed a tire iron from the trunk and disappeared inside the building. Fearing the worst, he reasoned with Vinny.
“If you kill him, doesn’t that shortchange you in the future?”
“They won’t kill him, just inflict pain. From now on, he’ll fear me and fear is a weakness. When I learn a man’s weakness, I win.”
Jake fought to keep his dinner down.
Vinny’s invitation to tagalong moved Jake one-step closer to the Cabacolli inner circle, despite his disgust over the evening’s activities. The bosses would be happy.
Jake only wished Vinny hadn’t chosen tonight to open that door. His thoughts were consumed by Mackenna. He’d wondered how her boss had reacted today to Jake’s dismissal of his phone call last night and he’d worried that Mackenna would pay the price for the rebuff. He’d dialed her cell phone twice, fully aware she wouldn’t answer because bank tellers stowed their cell phones when working the windows. He’d hoped she might call him over her lunch hour but she hadn’t returned either call as he’d requested. When she did finally call, he wasn’t in a position to answer.
He cursed again. Half of the restaurants within a fifty-mile radius of her apartment were unfamiliar to him. That was if her boss decided to feed her somewhere close. Hell, they could be anywhere. Better to camp out at her apartment and wait. Assuming he arrived there in time.
Last night when he drove her home he frowned when he noticed her apartment building didn’t have a security system for the front door but now, he was grateful. He took the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor and banged on Mackenna’s apartment door. No response. The chances were fifty-fifty that her boss would bring her back here to seduce her, in which case, Jake was in luck. If the joker coaxed her to his place, wherever that was, all Jake would be able to do was clean up the mess. Because sure as hell, Kenna was caught in one hell of a predicament.
Leaning against the wall he braced his shoulders and slid to the floor, stretching out his legs. Nothing to do but wait.
About an hour passed, his anger escalating with each minute, before the elevator bell pinged down the hall. The door opened and a man stepped out, his arm wrapped around Kenna, supporting her. It had to be her boss, Ted. They made a loud and raucous entrance into the hallway. Jake jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. Mackenna and her boss laughed and wobbled toward the wall. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetie. What’s your apartment number again?”
Kenna laughed and pointed with a limp wrist. “There. Right there. Where the man is standin’.”
Ted halted their progress and the pair stood together, swaying. The boss blinked several times and Kenna’s head bobbed while she appeared to focus on the figure approaching them. Jake advanced slowly. The urge to punch the man into oblivion was surpassed by his concern for Kenna. She flashed him a ridiculous grin and kept her arm in the air as if to welcome him.
“Lookie! It’s Jakey. Wha a nice sapprise.”
Jake grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him. “I’ve got her now, Ted. You can leave.” Kenna fell into his arms and sagged toward the floor.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Jake understood each word, spoken clearly and distinctly. Ted wasn’t one bit drunk.
Jake hoisted Kenna into an upright position and hugged her to his chest. “I’m the guy who just ruined your seduction plan. She is hardly in a condition to consent so I’d say I saved you from rape charges.”
Mackenna’s head snapped up. “I can’t afford to lose my job. He-He already tried and I puked after.” Her eyes closed and her head rolled back onto his shoulder.
Ted’s eyes widened and he shook his head to deny it.
Jake felt heat rocket through his body. “What?”
Kenna’s boss waved his hand in the air. “She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. I don’t appreciate you being here, buddy. Mackenna and I are dating. We both had too much to drink and I’m making sure she gets home safe. Who did you say you were?”
Jake’s chest heaved. “I know who you are and you’re not dating. And believe me, buddy, you don’t want to know who I am, not really. Stay away from her or you’ll find out.” He tucked his hand beneath Mackenna’s knees and lifted her into his arms. As he approached her apartment door, he yelled over his shoulder, “You better be gone when I turn around. And if you ever touch her again, I swear I’ll kill you.”
He pivoted at Mackenna’s apartment door and viewed an empty hallway. Old Ted must have taken the steps because the elevator hadn’t pinged. After feeling inside the entire contents of Mackenna’s purse, which she clung to with one hand, he located her keys and opened the door.
She’d said Arthur took everything but Jesus, this was like walking into a cave. No wonder she hadn’t wanted him to enter last night. How was she living like this for even one day?
They stumbled through the main room, and he spied the kitchen to the right and a coffeemaker.
“How about some coffee, honey?”
“I just want to sleep.”
“I know, but let’s pour a little caffeine in you first. You’re likely going to be sick soon. We might as well get it over with.” Ordinarily, he’d settle her on the sofa or in an easy chair but that wasn’t an option. He leaned her gently against the wall and held her shoulders. “Let’s ease down to the floor, okay? C’mon.”
Gravity took over and she landed on her backside with a thud. The wall supported her head and she stretched out her legs.
“Stay here, and I’ll brew the coffee.”
“I don’t feel so good, Jakey.”
Despite the pathetic look on her face, he smiled. No one had called him Jakey since the third grade.
Mackenna’s eyes closed. She might have already drifted off but at least she was upright. He started the coffee and wandered the rest of the apartment. One futon in a bedroom and her clothes neatly folded and stacked in another bedroom. No surprise there. She was careful about her personal appearance so it made sense her home would be neat as a pin. Although, there wasn’t much to keep clean in this vacuum. The bathroom looked the most normal with cosmetics, toiletries, and accessories arranged in an orderly line against the back of the sink. Curious, he opened the linen closet and found three bath towels bearing the discount store’s label. This was no way to live especially for a woman like Kenna.
The coffee sputtered and spouted its final brewing stages. Strolling toward the kitchen, he eyed Mackenna’s designer purse, still dangling from her arm. The polite thing to do would be to remove it and deposit it on the kitchen counter.
But a good investigator never passed up the chance to scrutinize . . . what? What did he suspect the contents of her purse might reveal? Something to implicate her in the robberies? Or proof of her innocence? Which did he want to find?
Gently, he eased the purse off her wrist and peeked inside. A clutch wallet and her cell phone mixed with a tissue pack, cosmetics, hand cream, a comb, three pens, contact lens solution, and a few cash register receipts. She’d had to buy the linens he saw and the coffee pot at the discount store just weeks earlier. She wasn’t kidding when she said her ex had taken everything. What would make a man do that?
Her cell phone asked for a code to unlock the screen so he clicked it off and dropped it back inside. A couple charge cards and her driver’s license filled her wallet. The compartment for bills held three dollars. His stomach sank. Demond said her bank account bordered on empty. Was that all the money she had?
He snapped the wallet closed and set the purse on the counter. Time to pump some coffee into her. He’d done his share of worshipping the porcelain throne after a night of over indulgence and as ugly as it could be, she’d likely feel better once she got that over with. After that, he wasn’t sure what to do.