A Little Bit Pregnant. Susan Mallery
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he couldn’t say why.
“Westron has had a couple of nasty letters delivered to his house,” Jeff said. “He annoyed the wrong group of people.”
“Death threats?” Zane asked.
“Daily. He’s working with local police, but he wants us to come up with a plan to protect the family he has here in the States.”
Zane made a few notes in the margin. When the company first started, he and Jeff had shared the work equally. In the past couple of years Jeff had taken over more administrative and sales duties, leaving much of the field work to Zane. The switch had come about because of Jeff’s marriage to a single mom and the subsequent birth of his son. Little Michael was nearly eighteen months old.
“How’s Ashley?” he asked.
Jeff’s expression softened as he smiled. “Great. She’s still getting morning sickness, but if this pregnancy is like the last one, it should pass in a few more weeks.”
He continued talking, but Zane found himself unable to listen. Instead he fought against ghosts from the past, and the pain they brought with him.
He was happy for his friend, he told himself. As for his own life, it had turned out the way it had and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. Once he’d thought he could have a normal life, then he’d found out he was wrong. End of story.
He returned his attention to his partner’s conversation and made notes on the various files. When they were finished, he headed for Nicki’s office and found her on the phone.
He leaned against the door frame and waited as she chewed out whoever had annoyed her. Watching Nicki mad was a kick.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, using both hands to gesture, even though the person on the other end of her headset couldn’t see. “If I’d wanted a cheap piece of crap, that’s what I would have ordered. Instead I ordered an expensive transmitter that was supposed to have a two-mile radius. The one I received has a radius of about three hundred yards. Now I’m not a math person, but even I can figure out that’s not close to one mile let alone two. So what are you going to do about this?”
She listened, sighed impatiently, then rolled her eyes. Her frustration made him grin. Nicki had a lot of great qualities but suffering fools gladly wasn’t one of them.
He watched the fire flashing in her eyes and the way her mouth moved as she spoke. As always, he acknowledged her beauty with the same emotional attachment he had to the weather. It was a part of his world. He lived with it, prepared for it when he remembered and had absolutely no control over it. So mostly he ignored it.
“You’d better credit me the shipping cost,” she muttered. “Yeah, I know. This is your last chance. One more screwup like this and I’m taking my size-able budget elsewhere. Uh-huh.” She listened for another couple of seconds, then said goodbye and hung up.
She glanced at Zane. “He actually had the nerve to tell me to have a nice day. My day was doing great right up until I found out about the messed-up order. People can be so annoying.”
“Maybe it’s not people. Maybe it’s you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Easy for you to say. You delegate all the annoying stuff to me.”
“One of the perks of the job.” He waved a folder. “I have some exciting news.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Sure you do.”
“Nicki. I’m not kidding. But I’m not going to tell you until I see the proper level of enthusiasm.”
She drew in a breath and clutched both hands to her chest. “Oh, Zane. Exciting news? I just can’t wait.” Her voice was a falsely high pitch that could have called dogs from three states away. “Wait. I’m all flustered. Let me sit down and recover for a second.”
She fluttered her fingers and quivered in her chair.
He chuckled, then sank into the seat by her desk. “It’s not the world that’s annoying,” he told her. “It’s you.”
“Sell it somewhere else. What have you got?”
He handed her the top folder. “New client. An Italian banker. I’m going to be talking to him about setting up a better security plan for his family.”
Nicki’s green eyes widened. “Will you be visiting him yourself?”
“I just may. And if I do, I’ll need an assistant.”
She flipped through the pages and smiled. “I love Italy. It’s so beautiful and do they know how to make wine or what? I haven’t been in years.”
“Did you go with your folks?”
“When I was in high school. Then I went with a bunch of friends while I was in college.”
“With a guy?”
She raised her eyebrows. “There might have been a man or two in the group. I simply can’t remember.”
“Liar.”
“Are you inquiring about my sex life?”
“Absolutely.”
She pretended to be shocked. “A lady never kisses and tells.”
“I’m not interested in the kissing. Do it anywhere interesting?”
“I’m not into public displays of affection, thank you very much.” She closed the folder. “My big complaint is that despite promises to the contrary, not one man in Italy pinched my butt.”
He shook his head. “Did you ever think it might have something to do with you being in a wheelchair? It’s not exactly easy to pinch when the butt in question is planted on a seat. You should have worn your braces a couple of days and given the guys a chance.”
“Good point. Honestly, I never thought it would be worth the effort.”
“That’s because you haven’t had your butt pinched by a professional.”
“Are you offering?”
“It’s not my fantasy, but I could ask around if you’d like.”
Nicki pushed the folder toward him. “You are too weird for words. Yes, if asked, I will accompany you to Italy. Now get out of here. Unlike the rest of you, I have actual work that needs to be done.”
The Friday morning planning meeting lasted over two hours. As per the usual schedule, the least pressing clients were discussed first, leaving the most time for those with the largest and most imminent problems.
Oil executives stationed in the Middle East should know better than to make political statements, Nicki thought as she listened to Jeff outline the situation. There had been daily threats against George Westron and his family ever since he’d told an AP reporter that most of the area’s problems could be solved if people simply practiced Christian values.
But the man being an idiot didn’t mean he should be killed by a car bomb or that his family should suffer, either.
Jeff passed Nicki copies of the threats left on the Westron’s front porch. She scanned the block letters taken from various magazines and newspapers, then glued into words and sentences.
“Obviously there is an entire international task force working on that,” he told her. “But see what you can do.”
Nicki nodded. She wasn’t an expert, but she had contacts who were. People outside of mainstream law enforcement. Sometimes she got lucky. She also noted a list of information Jeff wanted cross-referenced.
“There are two children,” Zane said, when Jeff had finished. “Twelve and ten.”
Nicki winced. She hated when kids were in danger. “Tell me they’re not still going to school.”
He nodded. “It’s private.