When the Dead Speak

Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Jake stood with one foot on the patio and one in his living room. The hot shower and a cigarette hadn't done much to remove the emptiness he felt. Except for a green banker's light on the desk, the apartment was dark. He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, barefoot, clad only in a pair of jeans, but he knew he was on his fourth cigarette.

He watched his neighbor, Cyrus, pulling his poodle by a leash. Jellybean wanted to stop and smell every blade of grass but Cyrus was up way past his bedtime. Jake flicked the cigarette butt over the railing.

Carl had finally reached Jake to tell him about Sam's visit. A little too late, Jake had thought. At least if Jake had had some forewarning, but it still didn't change anything. The what ifs, and only ifs, weren't going to make Sam understand. Maybe if he had told her he loved her. Maybe if he could have pulled those unfamiliar words from his mouth. They were there, on the tip of his tongue, unused during his entire thirty-four years. Sam was the only woman who tried his patience. She was so stubborn sometimes he could shake her. But she had Abby's strength, beauty, loyalty. And he wanted her so bad sometimes he couldn't think straight.

If it were any other woman, he would have shrugged it off. He had never lost his head or heart to a woman before. He had never wanted to fight for anything in his life before. Not his job with the Bureau, not for the salvation of his family life as a youth. He wouldn't even fight for his badge. If Murphy wanted it, he could have it. Sam was that lone exception. All he could do now was let her cool down, maybe talk to Abby in the morning. Have her intercede on his behalf.

First, Carl needed his help in the morning. Even Carl had found it difficult to explain how Sam derived all that she did by merely touching the file folder. But it was enough to convince President Whittier that Sam could do some major damage to his political career.

Preston's speech was going to take an exciting twist tomorrow, thanks to Sam and Tim. Without going into too much detail, Sam had explained to Carl what Tim had replaced in Preston's computer program. Carl wanted Jake and Frank to join him at the Jenkins Art Center.

Sam raced her Jeep down a residential street. She didn't know why she took this turn. It was another ten minutes to her house. Her thoughts kept racing back to Cain and Preston. The sense of impending doom was so strong, it overpowered the scent of burning fuel that had filled her nostrils back at the warehouse.

Chills racked her body. She felt something else maneuvering the Jeep, some force steering the vehicle to a safe place. She pulled up in front of an apartment complex and looked up at the three-story building. The address was familiar although she had never been there before. It was Jake's apartment building.

When Jake opened the door, Sam's heart crept up into her throat. He looked good, damn good. All the old feelings resurfaced. She vaguely remembered that they had argued, but she couldn't remember why, wasn't sure if it was something more significant than the feeling of death.

A rush of tears filled her eyes as the sensation that she would never see him again overwhelmed her. Her life was hanging in the balance and she hadn't made proper arrangements for Abby.

She stumbled through the doorway pleading, "Promise me, Jake. If anything happens to me, promise me you'll take care of Abby."

But he didn't answer. He pulled her into the room and slammed the door shut. His hands plunged into her hair snapping off the banana clip. Covering her mouth with his, his fingers found the zipper of her jacket. She returned his kiss in desperation, her hands helping to strip his clothes away.

Their passion was fueled by the erotic images that had plagued their dreams. Sam needed to feel his touch, feel their bodies entwined.

"Sam," Jake whispered.

"Don't talk," she whispered back. "Just make the first one quick."

Jake lowered her onto the rug right in front of the door amid discarded clothing. There were no apologies for what had happened earlier, no discussions or explanations. Feelings dominated. It was lust, passion, and love knowing no boundaries.

Through the opened patio door, among the drone of cars on the street and Jellybean yapping, the sound of a hawk could be heard screeching in the night.

Jake's breathing was slow and deep as he lay behind Sam in bed, his arms wrapped around her tightly. Sam reached up with her right arm and ran her hand up to his shoulder. Every cell in her body still ached for him.

The feeling of impending doom had passed, eclipsed by the love and safety she felt in Jake's arms. She pressed her cheek against his warm skin, his body heat radiating. She wished she could stay just like this forever, in Jake's arms.

She looked at the leather and turquoise bracelet Jake had slipped on her wrist. She in return had given him her medicine bundle. They had exchanged possessions after offering them to the four directions. It was tradition.

There was one more custom Jake didn't know. When two people are married, if one of the spouses dies, it's up to the other to take care of the in-laws.

She drew his arms around her even tighter and whispered, "Now you HAVE to take care of Abby."