Back at my apartment, I couldn’t stop pacing the floor. I must have worn a rut in my carpet. The minutes crept by, interminable. Asher wouldn’t tell me what he was planning. I suppose he was trying to protect me, or something, but it just made me anxious and angry.

A knock at my door snapped me to attention. Asher had told me someone was coming, but not who or when. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head. Irrational fears about who might be behind the door. I padded over slowly and peeked through the peephole. There was a man standing there wearing the uniform of a courier service that a lot of the law firms used. He was holding a manila envelope and shifting from one foot to another. He seemed bored, distracted. I took that as a good sign that he was probably just there to make a delivery.

I opened the door a crack, not removing the chain.

“Cora Maguire?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Sign here, please.”

He handed me a clipboard with a receipt. I signed in the box and handed it back to him. He passed the envelope through the crack in the door and walked away without saying another word. He put his earphones back in as he headed quickly down the hallway.

I closed the door and opened the envelope. There was another envelope inside that felt filled with paper, but on top was a handwritten note. It was from Asher.

Cora,

I need you to deliver this package to Reyna Martinez. I can’t do it myself because that could cause the evidence to be thrown out. Just tell her that someone delivered it to you but you don’t know who it was. Destroy this letter. Wait at the DA’s office for someone to pick you up. He will ask you to use your phone to call his sister in Milwaukee. We will be together soon.

Love,

Asher

---

My head was swirling, but still I gathered my things, stuffed the envelope under my arm, and headed to my car. I was getting deeper into a situation I didn’t understand and into possible dangers that I couldn’t predict. But for some reason, I trusted Asher. It wasn’t just the physical connection I felt to him; there was something deeper. At the same time, I felt a sensation almost like exhilaration. Even if this was a dangerous game, it was exciting to be a part of something real, something serious. I had always been watching from the sidelines, reading about things that happened to other people. I was in the middle of it this time.

I parked my car in the lot at the DA’s offices and walked through security. I looked up and down the directory until I found Reyna Martinez’s name and then went to the bank of elevators and waited for the doors to open.

A handful of other people filed in beside and behind me. They looked like cops. Big guys with serious expressions. Tense, alert, like violence on a frayed leash. I kept my eyes on the floor in front of me. The door dinged and I waited for the occupants to get out and then stepped in, the cops or investigators or whoever they were crowded in with me. Nobody spoke.

When the elevator reached my floor, I stepped out. None of the others followed me and I breathed a sigh of relief. I chided myself for being worried about something happening in a building full of police and prosecutors, but this whole matter had scrambled my brain’s fear center.

I opened the door to Martinez’s office and found her, resting her head in one hand, leafing through a stack of case files that towered on top of the desk.

“Ms. Martinez?”

“Yes?” she said without looking up from her work.

“I have a package for you. It’s about the Warner case.”

Her head snapped up. I placed the envelope on her desk and she took it in her hands. She began to open it, but hesitated.

“What is this, where did you get it?”

“I couldn’t say. It was dropped off at my apartment with your name and the case on a note. No sender, no other information. I haven’t even opened it.”

She inspected the back of the envelope, which had a tamper-proof seal.

“Who are you? You look familiar.”

“My name is Cora, but we have not met.” She didn’t recognize me from the arraignment and I didn’t want to give her any help in remembering. “I’m just dropping off this package. Have a good day.” I turned to walk away, but I heard her chair roll back as she stood up.

“Is this some ploy by Asher Dean? It would be like him to use some crazy trick to try and throw me off.”

I turned around to face her with my face as calm and neutral as possible.

“Who is Asher Dean?”

Martinez shook her head and walked back to her desk. I continued on to the elevators and back down to the lobby. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be on the lookout for, so I just stood around for a few moments. I had barely enough time to get bored when a severe looking woman in a gray suit walked up to me. She looked like an FBI or Secret Service agent, the kind of person who hadn’t laughed in months.

“Excuse me, miss, can I borrow your phone? I have to call my sister in Milwaukee.”

I was surprised, Asher had indicated that it was going to be a man. But, then again, maybe he just used the masculine pronoun out of habit. That did always annoy me, the fact that ‘he’ was the default.

“Of course,” I said, pulling out my phone. The woman gave me a short nod and, ignoring the proffered phone, turned and walked toward the exit. I followed her. She opened the back door to a black sedan.

“Are you taking me to Asher?” I asked. It came out far more excited than I thought it would.

“Don’t know the who, only the where.”

“Ok, where are you taking me then?”

“Santa Monica.”

I sank back into the seat and tried to calm my heartbeat. I was sick of being kept in the dark. I knew Asher was private, I liked the mysterious quality about him, but I wanted to know what was in the envelope, what he was planning. Because now it involved me as well. Not just because I was involved in the case, but I was more and more involved in him.

I watched as the freeway sped by. Traffic was light for this time of day on the 10 freeway. The driver took an earlier exit than I expected.

“I thought we were going to Santa Monica?” I asked.

“That’s right, miss,” was all I got for an answer.

I started to get a little nervous. She had used the right code phrase that Asher had given me, but where were we going? All of my worries were dispelled quickly, though, as we pulled into the parking lot at the Santa Monica Airport. I had never been there before, as the airport is normally used for private airplanes.

We drove right onto the tarmac. I leaned forward in my seat and peered through the windshield. Asher was there. He was standing in front of a sleek, gleaming jet. Various crew were hustling about, attaching and detaching hoses and doing all sorts of other tasks, but I only saw Asher. The car came to a stop and I nearly tore the door off its hinges and ran over to him, throwing myself in his arms. He lifted me up and kissed me deep as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Good to see you again, too,” he said as soon as he was able to free his lips from mine. “I trust you got the package to Reyna.”

“I did. She didn’t recognize me either. What was in the envelope, Asher?”

“Oh, let’s just say it is enough information to put Art Crane’s real killers in prison for a long time. Especially since they won’t have me defending them.”

“No?” I asked playfully. “Where are you going to be?”

“We are going to be in Tahiti.”

A grin broke out across my face.

“What about my internship?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will still write you a great recommendation.”

I laughed and hopped down onto the ground. He took me by the hand and led me to the stairs and onto the plane. I had always wanted to fly in a private jet and this one did not disappoint. It was decked out in soft leather chairs and couches. A small bar held crystal tumblers and a few bottles of top shelf liquor.

“It is a long flight. We will have to find some way to entertain ourselves.” He grinned hungrily. I felt a pulse of energy shoot through my body, centering in my groin. A dull, sweet aching grew between my legs. I had the feeling I wasn’t going to be bored on the flight at all.

---

The End