Without You

“No,” Jackson said.

More silence. Hallie sensed Jackson’s desire to fill the time with words, but when she laid her hand on his arm a second time, he remained quiet. After two minutes, Gomez got up and poured himself another cup of coffee, his eyes still on Jackson.

Finally, he sat back down, took a slurping sip and set the cup down. “Are you sure, Cole, that the two of you weren’t making it? Doin’ the deed? Wrinklin’ the sheets? Swappin’—”

“Enough, Detective,” Hallie said, already on her feet. “We’re out of here this minute.” She knew a fishing expedition when she heard one. “Do you have any evidence against my client, Gomez? It’s neither a crime nor a sin to be the last person to see someone alive.”

“But I’m not through questioning Mr. Cole.”

“Yes, you are. If you intend to scrape a case together, Gomez, you’ll have to do it without our help.”

Gomez’s already dark features darkened further as he focused his attention on Jackson, who was standing so close to Hallie that she could hear his labored breathing.

“I was hoping for more cooperation from you, Mr. Cole.”

“He’s been more than cooperative, Detective. You chose the low road, but we’re not taking it. If you want to see Mr. Cole again, bring some evidence—a warrant. And just for the record, he will answer no more questions for you.”

“Oh, I’ll bring my warrant, all right, Ms. Hunter. But all in good time. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

Hallie fastened the middle button of the jacket of her pants outfit. “You have your job, Detective. Go to it. Mine is to see that you don’t violate my client’s rights, and I take that just as seriously as you do.”

“No doubt the three of us will meet again,” Gomez said.

“Possibly, but there won’t be any questions the next time.”

“So you’re absolutely refusing to allow Mr. Cole to talk to me again?”

“I never say never, Detective,” Hallie said. “If you brought a fresh attitude and a smattering of knowledge about the Bill of Rights to our next session, I might reconsider.” Then, turning to Jackson, she added, “Are you ready?”

Together they left the building. Outside, the late afternoon air had turned chilly, but it was a lovely evening. A perfect night to spend with a lover next to a smoldering fire sipping on a glass of wine, Hallie thought.

Although mortified at the sudden image, Hallie knew the reason for it. Jackson. He had awakened old and buried yearnings. During the time they were engaged, they had done that very thing more times than she could count. The result had always been a sweet but fiery tumble between the sheets.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he commented in a husky voice.

“I wouldn’t know,” she snapped.

“Hallie?”

“What?”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “Why are you angry at me? Did I say something wrong in there?”

“No. It’s just been a long day and I’m tired.”

His lips thinned.

“Be in my office first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “I want you to meet Nathan.”

“Then, you’re not interested in joining me for a cup of coffee?”

She faced him then and their eyes met. Tension, hot and heavy, leapt between them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

His sigh was deep and ragged. “You’re probably right. It isn’t.”

“Just take me back to my car. Please.”

Four

Jackson parked at the rear of the club and slipped in through his private back entrance. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone—which was not his usual modus operandi.

As much as he trusted and looked to Terrance for help and guidance, Elan was his baby and he made it a point to be hands-on. Usually a mere stroll through the premises was exactly what he needed to make it through his long days. However, he had started cutting back on the hours he spent at the club, determined to finally get a “normal” life. But the transition was difficult, if not impossible, especially of late.

Since his breakup with Hallie two years ago, he had gone through the motions of living—feeling nothing, touching nothing. That way he’d been off the hook emotionally, which had been the only way he could hold body and soul together.

And his strategy had worked, enabling him to awaken each morning without that burning pain in his heart. But then things started to backfire, and once again his life seemed to change faster than a crashing stack of dominoes.

Jackson walked to the bar in his office and helped himself to a drink. It didn’t help, so he set the empty glass down and went to his desk. But sitting wasn’t the answer, either. He felt like ants were crawling through his insides; he walked to the window and stared outside.

The evening, like the day, was magical. The trees, swayed by the brisk wind, sent their multicolored leaves cascading to the ground. He watched the soothing sight for a moment, then turned around. He should call Terrance and let him know he was back. He owed it to his assistant to inform him of what had transpired at the police station, but he wasn’t ready. He needed more time alone to get his jumbled thoughts in some kind of logical order.

Murder.

Such an ugly word. It made him shudder to his core. The very idea that he could be accused of such an act was incomprehensible. So too was the image of Roberta’s lifeless body. She had been his lifelong friend, for heaven’s sake.

He rubbed the back of his head and muttered an expletive. Brooding over his present predicament wasn’t doing him any good. By seeking Hallie’s counsel, he’d taken the necessary steps to head off this impending disaster. The best thing he could do now was to visit with Terrance, then mingle with the customers.

But he still didn’t feel like facing anyone. That feel-nothing, touch-nothing mood had invaded his system again.

The phone suddenly rang, jarring him. He grabbed it and said, “Cole.”

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you.”

At the sound of the low, familiar voice, red hot fury boiled inside him. “I told you to stop calling me, you bastard.”

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to someone who has your best interest at heart?”

“Heart?” Jackson gave a harsh laugh. “You wouldn’t know about that, since you don’t have one.”

“If you persist in refusing to sell,” the caller continued, “we’ll find a way to take over, to force you out.”

“Then, I suggest you give it your best shot.” Jackson slammed down the receiver. But so much for his bravado. He felt gutted on the inside, a feeling he despised as much as he despised them and their bullying tactics.

Damn them, the organized crime faction that was determined to bring him down.

Lately the pressure had increased relentlessly. They seemed more hell-bent each day on buying him out, chipping away at his resolve.

Why him? Why his place? Why not one of the countless other clubs on the drag? He’d wrestled with those questions until he’d come up with several reasonable answers. Elan was slightly off to itself, making it more secluded, yet still accessible. In addition, the building property had more square footage and more land.