Stevie Wayne’s House

Los Angeles, California

 

Mika watched her come up the walk, the pain in his legs almost worth the sight of her beautiful body moving in jeans and a t-shirt. He continued searching through his own computer while she was gone, looking for something he was pretty sure he’d discarded. An email with an attachment he hadn’t taken seriously at the time he received it. But when Stevie told him why she was at his firm, he realized there might be more to it than he’d believed.

She came through the front door making more noise than she could ever be aware of. She’d always been careless about her movements, not taking note of the power with which she slammed the front door, the jarring clatter of her keys hitting the tabletop, the tip-tap of her shoes on the linoleum floor. She sounded the same walking through their little house all those years ago whether it was morning or night, sometimes waking the baby without being aware that it was her movement that had pulled him from sleep.

It was a noise he’d missed all this time on his own.

She smiled brightly as she came back into the dining room and spotted him near the windows.

Still employed, she signed happily.

Were you concerned?

She rolled her shoulders, crossing to the table and sitting in front of the computer again. She began working silently on the keypad, the movements of her fingers the only sound in the room. Her overwhelming silence had sometimes bothered him in the past. He was used to a large house full of servants giggling and talking behind his parents’ backs, playing music on their iPods or phones, making a racket as they moved through the house. Moving in with Stevie, the only sound her movements as she went about her daily activities, had been unnerving. Sometimes he’d turned on the television just for the noise. But now? It was all so achingly familiar that he felt like he’d finally found his way back home.

He moved close and dangled his hand over the computer screen, spelling with the one hand the word for food. She smiled, gesturing to the refrigerator. But then she turned her attention back to the computer, her fingers flying over the keys.

Mika crossed to the fridge, glancing inside to find it partially filled. There was milk and some fruit, a few fresh vegetables. Clearly the refrigerator of a woman who didn’t spend a ton of time at home. He pulled out the vegetables and set about making a quick stir-fry, chopping and sautéing the vegetables with a frozen chicken breast he found in the freezer. He turned on a little radio he found shoved into one corner of the counter, humming along with the music as he worked. Every once in a while, he’d glance over at Stevie. She seemed deeply engrossed in her work, whatever it was.

The idea that Spencer White had gone to an outside security firm over a sensitive issue such as the one she’d described bothered him. Spencer was very careful about whom he allowed into his systems and what those people were allowed to do. Spencer had hired an expensive, knowledgeable tech team to keep information within their computer intranet safe. That was where the login thing came from, where the security on high profile cases came from. There had never been a computer breach at Spencer White and Associates.

Why would Spencer believe there had been one now?

There hadn’t been. Not really.

Mika took the vegetables off the burner and poured them onto two plates, both piled high with rice. He carried them to the table, nudging Stevie to alert her.

Looks good.

Mika took a seat near her, glancing at the computer screen in a lame attempt to figure out what she was up to. But she was digging around in the subprograms. Mika knew nothing about that sort of thing.

They dug into their food, Mika’s thoughts still on Spencer. It was particularly strange to him that the cases he named were the ones he felt had been infiltrated. The thing was, those clients weren’t their biggest ones. The information possibly extracted from those files would have been less than sensational compared to the files for some of the more important clients they serviced regularly. It was comparable to releasing a picture of some starlet that was displayed in a nudie magazine or releasing a sex tape that revealed a well-known star’s true sexuality.

One was mildly interesting. The other was explosive.

Mika rapped his knuckles on the table to get Stevie’s attention.

Why those clients? Why not some of our bigger clients? And why not release whatever information was stolen? I haven’t seen anything in the tabloids about any of those clients.

Stevie set down her fork and glanced at the computer.

Why point all the evidence toward you?

That was another thing. Mika didn’t understand how he could be the only one who’d accessed all those files on the days in question. Once a case was finished, the files were archived, moved into a section of the system that left them accessible, but not always on top of the more current business. To access an archived case file, someone had to know when the case was completed, as the date became a part of the file name.

I had some trouble with one of the partners a few weeks ago. Maybe he’s exacting revenge?

Who was this?

Rueben Stanches.

Stevie turned back to the computer and quickly typed, the click-clack of the keyboard competing with the music still coming from the radio. He watched, not sure what it was she was doing. But then she looked up at him and shook her head.

“His name isn’t on the files for the time period we’re looking at.”

“You got into the system?”

She smiled slyly. “I found another back door to walk through.”

“When did you become such a master at computers?”

“When I decided this was what I wanted to do.”

She turned back to the computer, rolling the mouse over something. She stood and grabbed a pad of paper from her father’s desk, coming back and scribbling a list of names on the pad. There were only four, including Spencer’s name.

She pushed the list toward him. “These are the names of the people who accessed all the files on the list around the time frame Spencer gave us.”

“Everyone but me.”

She nodded.

Mika picked up the paper and read the names. Two were Spencer’s executive secretary and one of the computer techs who had access to all the files all the time. One was the head of the research department.

It made no sense that these people would access the files in order to set Mika up. And only one of them knew how to bypass the security features.

“This makes it look like Spencer’s responsible,” he said aloud, not looking at Stevie as he spoke. He was talking more to himself than anyone else. “But why would Spencer want to set me up?”

She pushed his shoulder, her fingers flying as she yelled at him with her hands.

“Stop!” he said, grabbing her wrists to make her stop talking. He looked her levelly in the eye. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I didn’t do this. And it doesn’t make sense that Spencer would have done it.”

“Does he have reason to stop you from becoming partner?”

Mika frowned. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t have to resort to this sort of thing. He’s the head of the firm. He could just refuse to give me his vote.”

She got up again, returning to the table a moment later with her iPad in her hands. He waited while she dug through it, searching for something. When she finally found it, she pointed at a line of words written on the screen. The grammar and phrasing of the words written there was a little grating, but he got the gist. Someone was questioning another person’s capabilities. She rolled the screen up when he was done, pointing to another section, then another, and finally another.

What does this have to do with anything?

She set the iPad aside and spoke slowly with her hands, explaining that what she’d shown him were Spencer’s words to him in his office a day ago. All patronizing words, the words of someone who held little respect for the man he was speaking to.

Was that true? Mika hadn’t even noticed.

What is this?

She blushed slightly. I put a listening device in your office.

His eyebrows rose. Another of Durango’s gifts to you?

She nodded, not catching the anger and jealousy that were rushing through him. He pushed away his food and stood, pain from the soreness in his legs, his hips and lower belly shooting through him. He grunted, but she couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t hear the curse that was slipping from his lips in that moment, either.

Stevie followed him into the small kitchen, slipping her hand around his waist and encouraging him to turn so that she could see his face.

My boss wants you to hire us. He wants me to protect you until we figure out who took those shots at you the other day.

Can’t you do that without me hiring you?

She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes moving slowly over him. He caught her looking at a place just above his left nipple, that place where their son’s name had been permanently branded into his skin. He knew it bothered her, seeing that. She had no idea how it felt to see the same tattoo just above her tender pulse in her left wrist.

Spencer fired us.

Mika laughed. How much more bizarre could this thing get?

Why?

Don’t know.

When?

Today.

He tilted his head slightly, regarding her closely. Did you tell him anything when he came to my office the other day?

Just that I didn’t think it was you.

Then, that’s why.

He laughed again, feeling as though he was in a chasm whose walls were closing in on him. He brushed his hand against his face, remembering how close the bullets had come to him the day before. And then the car, crashing through the front of the house. Stevie would be gone now if he hadn’t heard it, if he hadn’t moved her out of the way.

Was that the intention?

Okay. I’ll hire you.

Stevie’s smile widened. She went back to the table and grabbed a file folder she’d come into the house with, bringing it to him. It was a contract, already drawn up and ready to go. She’d been confident, hadn’t she?

“Why this?” he asked the near silent kitchen as he signed his name at the proper places. “Why did you get into security? Why not something else? Why not computer programming? You clearly have a skill for it. Or stick with teaching? Or run a fucking restaurant? Why a career that could lead you down a dark path?”

She touched his shoulder, but he ignored her, continuing to focus on the contracts while he mumbled under his breath.

“You left me because I took our dead son out of your arms, and you came back to save me from some conspiracy I don’t even understand. Why? Why now?”

He almost felt like he was losing his mind. His life hadn’t been perfect before she came back, but it was ordered. Controlled. He went to work, did the best he could to protect the actors who worked for directors like his father, for producers like Jackson Chamberlain and his serial killer kids. And he partied, probably harder than he should. But it wasn’t a bad life. There wasn’t all this emotion…grief and pain and hurt and outrage. He didn’t feel the heights of passion, the pinnacle of happiness, or the darkness of rock bottom.

Was he really ready for what having Stevie back in life would mean?

She tapped his shoulder again. He glanced at her, found her watching him with concern on her face.

Why Durango?

She stepped back slightly, clearly caught off guard.

Why did you go to Durango? Why didn’t you come home? Why didn’t you come to me?

She shook her head. I didn’t think you wanted me, she said, her hands moving slowly. I thought it was too late.

It was always Durango with you.

He moved around her, marching off toward the living room despite the pain screaming through his body. He paced, frustrated and tired, the pain pills wearing off and the soreness growing. The ache in his body matched the ache in his chest, in the place where he’d held his anger and jealousy and hurt all this time. It had been festering, a pus-filled mess.

Stevie followed, watching him from just inside the room, curiosity burning in her beautiful eyes.

Just curiosity.

“I was your husband,” he said, still pacing, aware that she’d only get bits and pieces of his speech, but not caring. “I was the one you should have stayed with, the one you should have wanted to work all this bullshit out with. When you left, I was convinced you’d come back. I had a detective follow you around for the first few months, watching over you, making sure you were okay. And when you settled in New York, when you enrolled in college, I thought, Okay, she needs a little space, a little time. But she’ll come back. But then you take a job in upstate New York, make it so clear you don’t want me anymore.”

He glanced over at her, saw the confusion in her expression.

“I got on with my life, too, you know. I went to law school because it was the only thing I could do after you left.”

Tears began to swim in her eyes. She’d caught all that.

He turned away again, pacing the small room where they had sat with her father on the day they told his parents about the baby, on the day his parents kicked him out of the house.

“I gave up everything for you. I lost my father’s respect, my mother’s devotion. I made the choice to put off law school. I got a menial job just to make sure you had everything you needed. And I was the one who went to my father and groveled when William got sick, when we heard about that medication that had shown so much promise, but we couldn’t afford.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair.

“You left me because I took the baby out of your arms. And you came back, but you came to Durango—that damn serial-killing bullshit artist who got his brother killed and his father shot! The disgraced ass who lost everything…you went to him while I was sitting here waiting for you!”

She crossed the room and grabbed his arm, looking up at him like a lost puppy begging to be taken into his home. She hadn’t caught most of what he’d said, but she understood his behavior, his anger and hurt. She pulled him close to her and reached up to touch his face. Mika didn’t want to be touched. He turned away, but she pulled him back, her hands brushing his face again.

She wanted to know what he’d said. She wanted to understand his anger.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked.

She dropped her eyes for a moment, a slow smile touching her lips. “It’s my house,” she finally said.

Mika made a gesture with his hand, showed her that he didn’t feel up to joking at the moment. Her face sobered, her eyes brushing that spot on his shirt again before rising to his face.

“I came to Los Angeles because my father is dying.”

“But you left New York long before that.”

“I told you, I went to Durango to comfort him after Billy died.”

“Why not go to him when he was charged with murdering his fiancée?”

“I didn’t know about that. It was just a blurb in the papers, one I overlooked.”

“Why not let me know you were back?”

She looked away. “I didn’t want to see you. I thought it would be too hard.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!”

Mika buried his fingers in her hair, pulling to force her head around so that he had free access to her lips. He kissed her roughly, his need overwhelming. She fought him for a second, but then she submitted, her body molding against his. She slipped her hands under his shirt, her fingertips brushing against his hard nipple. He ripped her shirt over her head, his fingers playing with the back of her bra as she tugged at his shirt. He lifted it out of the way for her. She gasped, pulling back as her fingers dropped to the bruises on his stomach.

“It looks so painful!”

He tried to pull her hand away, but she dropped to her knees and pressed her lips to the marks. The sight of her like that pushed him, made him burn like he’d never burned before. He rested his hand on the top of her head, need making him harder than he’d ever been.

She tugged at his sweatpants, pulling them down along his thighs. The bruises there were even darker, big black and blue blotches across his skin. She ran her hands over them, making them disappear and reappear with the movement. And then she pressed her lips to them.

Damn, but she was driving him crazy!!

Her hands moved over his bruises, caressing them. He didn’t care about the pain. Her touch balanced it out. Just watching her, watching her hand creep up higher on his thigh, coming so close to his boxers…he wanted more than he could ever express. And when she finally gave him a taste of what she had to offer, his head began to spin, and he thought he might lose his mind. She was an amazing woman! Amazing mouth, amazing body, amazing everything. She had this power over him that could take away even the worst sort of pain. His knees grew weak, and he stumbled back, inadvertently pulling away from her. Concern burned in her eyes as she rose to her feet and studied his face.

“Do you need more pain pills?”

He groaned, drawing her toward him again. “I can think of something else that will make me feel better.” She didn’t see the movement of his lips, but she knew his intention. She slipped up against him again, pressing her body hard against his. Her full breasts pressed against him, her nipples hard enough that he could feel them through the material of her bra. He bit her throat, made her cry out, though it wasn’t really a scream but more of a toneless moan, a sound he’d heard come only from her perfect mouth. He loved making her make that sound.

He hated her for leaving him, for turning to Durango instead of coming to him. He hated that she hadn’t wanted to see him and probably wouldn’t have if not for Spencer’s little scheme. He hated that she blamed him for doing something that had been as difficult for him as it had been for her. He hated that she’d left him without giving him a chance to plead his case, without bothering to say goodbye. He hated her for all the pain she’d put him through, for all the pain they’d inflicted on each other.

But he loved her. It was as simple as that.