Break Point Read online

“Him. The guy who attacked me. This is a bar, right? I’ve never been to a place like this. In movies, this is where the bad guys always hang out. Seedy bars.”

  “Summer, this is a restaurant too. Kids and families will be in there. This isn’t some dive by the airport.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know this, if he is in there I’ll find him.” He squatted down to her level and rested his arms on the open window. “Why don’t you just enjoy yourself and let me do the worrying.”

  She looked at him, then down at the floorboards, then back at him. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “But these are Prada shoes. Somebody spills beer on them, I know who to blame.”

  She pushed the door open, almost knocking him to the ground. When he righted himself, he followed her, unable to stop himself from staring squarely at her behind.

  ***

  Summer walked a few steps ahead of Jake, feeling more comfortable knowing she was in his plain sight. When she went through the door, she could feel every eye turn toward her. It didn’t bother her. In fact, she enjoyed it. She was glad to see no one had forgotten her in her absence.

  “Hey, you two! Over here!”

  Big Al waved his hand in the air, motioning them over to his corner table. He was surrounded by the usual guys and an empty seat directly to his left. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked glancing at his Rolex. “I expected you a half hour ago.”

  “Sorry Daddy,” Summer offered when she sat down. “I didn’t know what to wear.”

  “Does it matter? You’re gorgeous. Hey everyone, tell my baby she’s gorgeous.”

  “You're gorgeous.” The stooges answered in unison. More proof they all shared a single brain.

  “I’m glad you guys made it. I thought by now you could use a night out.” A waitress brought a pitcher of beer to the table and placed mugs in front of them. She almost dropped her tray when her eyes fixed on Jake.

  “Oh my good God,” the girl stammered, as if she’d just seen Elvis’s ghost. Before he could answer, she turned to the rest of the patrons, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Hey, everybody! Streak is back.”

  Cat calls and applause filled the bar. Summer’s jaw dropped when she saw Jake raise his hand, offering everyone a small wave.

  “Drinks are on the house, baby.” She leaned over and kissed him, the red remnants sticking to his cheek.

  “Thanks, Courtney.”

  Summer turned in her chair and scanned the bar. Smiling people wielding pens and paper began leaving their tables and barstools. A small crowd of people formed around Jake’s chair, watching him like they would a zoo animal. When he smiled, they would. When he laughed, they did—only louder. He was every bit as charming as she was used to, but he was guarded. Like all the attention somehow embarrassed him.

  She knew how he felt. This was the type of reaction she was used to getting when she was out on the town. It was a switch being a spectator, and in a way, it was nice. But also unnerving. What did the rest of the world know about him she didn’t?

  “Quite a reception, huh, Jakie?” Al kidded as he poured some beer into his glass. “I know you hate the attention, but I thought it might be nice for Summer to socialize.” Her father said as if this were a PTA meeting. “It’s good to be friendly, right kid?”

  “Right, Daddy.”

  “You want a beer or something?”

  “Daddy, I’m an athlete. Athletes don’t drink.”

  “Yeah right, tell that to Streak here!” The table erupted in laughter, obviously sharing an inside joke she wasn’t privy to.

  “Excuse me? Are you Streak Harrison?”

  A boy in a NASCAR t-shirt pushed his way in between them. “I was.” Jake answered, then placed his beer back on the table.

  The kid’s face hit every shade of red before he thrust a tattered baseball cap in front of him. “Can you sign this, please?” he squealed. “You’re my favorite driver ever! I still wear your number. See.”

  The boy shoved the hat further in his face. Summer craned her head around to read the embroidered number thirty-seven with a white lightning bolt through it. She watched Jake run his fingers over it, and his throat bob in a hard swallow. Finally he smiled, then pulled a pen from his jean pocket.

  “What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

  “Dylan” he replied. “Hey, do you still have shards of metal in your head? I read where you were burned over half of your body.”

  “Dylan!” A woman yelled from across the restaurant. “We’ve got to go!”

  The boy turned back to Jake, his eyes as wide as his gap-toothed smile. “Thanks again, Streak!” He disappeared into the sea of staring zombies as quickly as he had materialized.

  This wasn’t fair. The man beside her had been her constant companion for over a week, but all of a sudden he seemed like a perfect stranger. “Who the hell is Streak?” Summer finally blurted, her voice more accusatory than curious.

  “Summer, don’t raise your voice,” Al laughed as he lit a cigar.

  “What accident? And why do you have metal in your head and why is everyone staring at you?”

  “Hey look, honey, how about you save the questions for later and we talk some business instead.” Al took a drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “So, how’s is the case coming?”

  “Nothing new.” Jake said slowly, his gaze still tangled with hers. “I’m really just a bodyguard for now. I’ve gone through her fan mail and phone records. I don’t want to sound indifferent about the whole thing, but it may just be a crazy isolated incident. If the guy pops up again, I’ll find him but I think it might be one of those hit and runs.”

  “Well, look who is out on the prowl.” A woman in a short, black business suit leaned over to Jake’s ear. She whispered something and when it registered, a cockeyed smile spread across his blushing face.

  “Leslie.” Jake stood and kissed her on the cheek. “Long time, no see. You look great.”

  “You too,” she gushed, pushing her short auburn hair behind her ear with a French manicured finger. “I’ve missed seeing you. You haven’t been out with the gang much lately.”

  “I’ve been busy.” He motioned to Summer. “Big case.”

  “Jake was supposed to call me.” Leslie laughed, taking the empty seat beside Al. “Funny, my phone hasn’t rung in weeks.”

  “Aw, cut him some slack” Al kidded. “He’s a hard working kid.”

  “Always has been.” She agreed. “Just like at school. He was always the last one to leave the library.”

  “And the last one to leave a party, I bet.” Al added, bumping elbows with the guy next to him.

  Again, Summer felt like she had walked in on the middle of a movie. This Leslie woman didn’t match her father’s stooges. She was way too put together with the suit and the all-business chin-length hair, which did little for her pale, narrow face. Pretty, in an IRS auditor type of way. But nothing like a woman she figured Jake would hang around with.

  “We met in criminology class.” Leslie explained with a self important air that made Summer nauseous. “I was doing research on insider trading and he let me borrow a few books. I don’t have a PhD like he does, but I like to think I am good at what I do. Al seems to think so.”

  “Yeah, she’s doing some business consulting for me.” He gnawed on the end of his cigar. “Doesn’t seem fair for the FBI to know where to invest their money and not anyone else. It’s nice of her to share her insight.” Al flashed a knowing smirk, as if sharing a deep, dark secret to the table.

  “You have a PhD?” Summer asked, grabbing Jake’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He smiled at her. “You didn’t ask.”

  “And wait a minute, I’m confused. Investment consulting?” Summer posed the question to the table. “What does that have to do with criminal psychology?”

  “Nothing.” Al explained simply. “She works for the FBI in the White Collar Crimes Division. She tracks insider trading.” He le
aned across the table and winked. “Thanks to her, I just paid cash for a new condo down on South Beach.”

  Leslie spun the stir stick in drink with her perfect long fingernail. “Al thought I could help with any busywork you had with Summer’s case,” she said to Jake. “Of course, I jumped at the chance. I was telling Al how much I missed spending time with you.”

  “I miss it, too.” Jake smiled, topping off his beer with what was left in the pitcher.

  “Hey Jake, you got a limit.” Al warned, eyeing the refilled glass. “Remember you got to stay sharp. You’re looking after my baby here.” He took one last drag of his cigar and then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Look people, I have some business of my own to conduct. If you will excuse me. I see an associate up at the bar.”

  Tossing a five dollar bill at Summer, he squeezed her shoulder on his way by. “Honey, why don’t you play something on the juke box while these two visit.”

  “I think the entertainment is fine right here.” she said, shocking herself that anything other than “yes, Daddy” had come from her mouth. “I mean, I’ll be there in a minute.” she corrected herself. “Thank you.”

  When he was a good distance away, Summer turned back to Leslie and Jake. They were now holding hands across the table and Leslie’s thumb caressed his fingers.

  “You doing okay?” she asked him. “You look tired.”

  “I’m okay,” he said simply, making no move to pull his hand from her.

  “How are the headaches?”

  He shrugged. “Still there. No big deal.”

  Summer studied the two of them, sure they were the oddest couple she could ever picture. Opposites had no business attracting. It occurred to her that people probably thought exactly the same about her and Geoffrey.

  Leslie took a sip of her drink before turning toward Summer. “So your father hasn’t really said much about you. What are you going to do now? I mean now you don’t have tennis any more.” Leslie cocked her head as if humoring a disgruntled child. “This must be a hard time for you.”

  “She’s playing tennis again.” Jake corrected. “She’ll be back on tour in no time, right?”

  “Really? That’s surprising.” Leslie laughed. “Not that I read the sports page or anything, but I heard your arm was too damaged for you to compete.”

  Summer likened Leslie’s taunting to a well-placed drop shot in the middle of high-paced tennis match. Her words hung there, begging to be slammed back in her face. Fortunately Summer was known for her incredible timing and strategy, and she liked to believe she was just as adept in a verbal show down as any on the tennis court. The key was outsmarting the opponent.

  Jake patted Summer on the shoulder as he looked over at Leslie. “You should really see her play. I don’t know much about tennis but I know enough to recognize an amazing athlete when I see one.”

  “Well at least you’re good at something.” Leslie shook her head in disgust. “I feel sorry for you, Summer. Very tragic.”

  And there it was, the ball looming in front of her waiting for a wallop. Squaring her shoulders, she tossed her long ponytail behind her. “I don’t know Leslie. I don’t think it’s any more tragic than your moustache.”

  Winner.

  Jake snagged the five dollar bill from the table and held it up in front of her. “Summer, what happened to the music? I thought you were in charge of that.”

  Summer pushed herself up from the chair and snagged the money from his hand. “I’ll be at the juke box, if anyone needs me,” she informed. “And if I don’t see you again, Leslie. Have a safe broom ride home.” She tucked the bill into her cleavage because she thought it was a cool thing to do.

  A fist pump would have been too obvious.

  ***

  “Well, isn’t she a little tart.” Leslie declared. “You like her, don’t you?”

  Jake and every other man in the room watched as Summer squeezed her way through the crowd. “She’s nice enough. Was it necessary to be so mean?”

  She shrugged. “Probably not, but I think Al’s worried about the two of you.”

  He turned back to Leslie, lowering his voice as he leaned across the table. “Why would he be worried? He’s the bad guy. I’m supposed to worry about him.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she replied, a devious smile on her face. “There is a lot of down time in twenty-four hours, and everyone knows how you like to stay occupied.”

  Leslie loved to tease him about his sex drive, a subject she knew a fair amount about. He didn’t mind. It was nice to joke and let his guard down a moment with the one person he knew he could trust. “I’m worried about you, Leslie. He doesn’t suspect anything does he?”

  “I probably wouldn’t be sitting here if he did.” She touched the rim of her glass with her finger. “I actually think him knowing I’m with the FBI works in our favor. I’ve got him thinking I’m the queen of insider trading. He trusts me for now. And as far as I can tell, he trusts you too.”

  “Only took three years.” Jake replied. “By the way, I see Diggs and Barker at the bar. Two hours from the Tampa field office seems a long way to come for a beer.”

  “You know how they love to get out from behind their desks.”

  “They’re checking in on me.”

  “They’re backing you up.” she corrected. “Who knows what could happen on a night out with Al.”

  She was right. He could use all the help he could get.

  “You’ve done a great job so far,” she said. “You made a heartless cretin feel sorry for you. I think he actually feels bad he ended your career.”

  “Not as bad as I feel.” He finished the rest of his beer in one gulp. There was something about talking of his former life that begged him to pickle himself in alcohol. But his misery was the exact reason why he was inspired to follow his other dream. He finished school, earning a PhD in five years and became one of the most respected consultants in organized crime in the country. Some orders had come from the White House itself. Now his sights were square on Big Al. “Thank you for going out on a limb for me. Shel.”

  “You think she knows more than she’s saying?”

  Jake followed Leslie’s gaze across the bar to where Summer stood next to her father. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I can’t see why she would want to hurt herself.”

  “Maybe if she was pushed pretty hard.” Leslie suggested. ”If anyone would understand that, I would think it would be you.”

  “True. But why would she defend him?”

  “Well, he is her father, or maybe she’s afraid not to.”

  He watched a man walk by Summer at the juke box, obviously distracted by her plunging neckline. He tripped over himself, dropping a pitcher of beer to her feet.

  “She certainly has a way with men.” Leslie teased.

  “She’s smarter than you think she is,” he corrected. “She’s tough and she’s hard to get close to, but I think I’ve got a pretty good read on her.”

  “Should I be surprised?” Under the table, she ran her foot down his leg. “If Summer is in cahoots with her father somehow, you’d be the one to charm it out of her.”

  He appreciated the compliment. It was moments like this that made him think maybe their sexual encounters were based on a little more than convenience. Leaning across the table, he again took Leslie’s hand. “Thanks, for everything. You’re a real friend.”

  “Well I might be your best friend when I show you this.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket and it slid to him under the table. “When you told me to look into Geoffrey Martin, we took it upon ourselves to look into his correspondence. There were a series of emails sent back and forth between him and a Jason Lutz at Sports Illustrated. Turns out that S.I. wanted Summer for a shoot in Bermuda and Geoffrey was the one who convinced them to use another girl, Nila Norcova.”

  “Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you efficient.”

  “You aren’t the only one who is good at their job.” Sh
e teased, lifting her wine glass to her mouth. “Could that be important?”

  “A definite maybe.” He looked over his shoulder before folding the envelope and jamming it in his pocket. “Listen, I stopped off at the P.O. Box this morning and put everything you need in there. You and Diggs can see what you can get from it.”

  “Okay, so what if we meet up Sunday night? My place.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her finger. “I figure by then you could use a little R and R, if you know what I mean.”

  Drawing a breath he looked into dark eyes. “Leslie, don’t take this the wrong way. But I got to keep my focus on this one.

  Jake saw disappointment register on her face. Tell me, are you willing to make an exception for certain blondes?”

  Jake took a long gulp from his mug then licked the remnants from his lips. “You know that’s different,” he told her. “If sleeping with her somehow furthers the case, I’ll do it.”

  “You mean to gain her trust.”

  “Sometimes that’s the only way.”

  “Fine. Drop it. I’m sorry I even brought it up” She pulled her hand from his grip before finishing what was left in her glass. “Stay safe and remember I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

  “Thank you. And you give me the yellow flag if you see him coming after me.”

  “That’s not going to happen. But for now we operate under the assumption Al is responsible, and everyone is in on it including your little charge. Got it?”

  “Excuse me? Are you Jake Harrison?”

  Jake was startled by a tall, blond woman with a Pennzoil t-shirt and an incredible, if not fake, pair of breasts. “That’s me,” he said to her cleavage.

  “I knew I was right,” she squealed, jumping up and down almost knocking Jake across the room. “I’m a huge fan. Will you sign me?” Handing him a red Sharpie, she leaned over in front of him and exposed her left breast.

  In a lame attempt to advert his eyes, he stared over the woman’s shoulder. A group of men were filing out the front door. The last one out had his sleeve rolled up and a tattoo on his bicep caught Jake’s eye. The color scheme was slightly lighter but the design was unmistakably the same. It was the blonde angel and crossbones. The same picture he had found on the envelopes sent to Summer.