Spread across David’s coffee table, several papers were scattered, including his laptop, phone and gun. The faint smell of lemon lingered in the air, a scent that reminded him of the late Rick Sanchez house. Rick had been obsessed with Pine-Sol like it was a geriatric version of crack cocaine. Everything, including the hardwood floors, had been doused in the stuff. David had spent many of his afternoons after school using the hallway downstairs in the quiet home as a Slip N Slide.
Rick had always kept everything neat and clean, to the point that it was borderline disturbing, which explained why David, as an adult, couldn’t stand things to be displaced or messy. Everything had to be in order and have a purpose.
And what was resting on his coffee table definitely was not a part of the plan—of any plan.
David took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, shit on a shitter.”
Rick rolled over in his grave. He had always hated cussing, and while David tried to remember and live by what Rick had taught him, he cursed like a street thug in the middle of a drug deal gone bad.
He leaned forward and picked up his phone. He looked at the email message again. Shit! They were just stupid messages from someone who was obviously on the deranged side of things.
This message wasn’t much different than the ones he had gotten months ago. All had been annoying and slightly disturbing, but nothing major, because after all, he’d made more enemies than friends over the last couple of years.
“Obviously someone is a dumbass,” he muttered,
The words on the paper weren’t funny.
“Assholes like you don’t deserve to live when all you do is ruin lives.”
What a charming opening line, he thought. The message went on from there, like the others, rambling about how he shouldn’t be able to sleep at night and that he—he assumed it was a he—would be watching. I’ll be seeing you soon, the message concluded.
Placing the phone back on the table, he then stood. His fingers felt icy and numb. He walked across the room to the window overlooking the teeming street below. The streets looked lonely as it was late and almost everyone was indoors. Branches on a few late-blooming cherry blossoms in the distance swayed.
His thoughts drifted to Bonnie Rimmer, and for some reason he wondered what she was doing now. He stopped himself immediately and shut his eyes, willing those thoughts to go away. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about her…It was wrong…and felt so fucking right at the same damn time. He twisted away from the window and opened his eyes.
His heels clicked off the floor as he went back to the table and dropped his hands to his hips, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the scattered papers on the table. He had to fix this, gain control of the situation. It was the only option. But doing so required that he take the threats seriously. Ignoring these messages, like he had been for the last months, was like ignoring an ache that wouldn’t go away. No good shit comes from that.
He needed to figure out who was behind these letters, and that wasn’t going to be easy. The emails couldn't be traced…Goerge said he already tried, and he had Bonnie on his plate right now so he couldn't go back to the agency at the moment. So far, the messages were simply threats. Maybe they would stay that way…at least for now.
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He hadn't slept a wink. The combination of worry and excitement from his vivid dreams of Bonnie worked to keep him tossing all night. But the knock on the apartment door sounded insistent, so he reluctantly forced himself out from under the sheet, then wrapped it around himself to cover his nudity. "Just a damn minute!" he grumbled. Who the hell was that at his door so early? On his way out of the room, he picked up his watch and saw it was only eight-thirty. Just dandy.
Carrying his pistol, he looked out the peephole, then cursed. He stuck the gun in a drawer, just before jerking the door open. He managed to startle Bonnie, who nearly dropped a large basket she was holding in both hands. "Are you one of those perverse people who rises with the sun?" he asked her, frowning.
Bonnie didn't look at his face. She was too busy staring at his body. David’s eyes followed her gaze and then he sighed in disgust. "I don’t want you fainting on me. Bon Bon, so please, pull it together, will ya? Stop staring."
That moony-eyed look of hers was going to be the death of him. A man could take only so much. And she was looking especially fetching this morning in some kind of light, spring dress. It was just as concealing as the one she'd worn last night, but there was no tie at her throat, only a pearl brooch that looked as if it cost a small fortune. This dress nipped in at the waist, and showed how tiny she was. He could easily span her waist with his hands. His palms tingled at the thought.
"What the hell are you doing here, Bonnie? It's still early. And i didn’t give you that address so you can just show up anytime"
"I know…i um...actually, I thought we might have breakfast. You did say we would talk this morning."
"Eager to get started, are you?" Turning away, David stared toward the kitchen, then back to Bonnie. "I wasn't up yet. If you want coffee, you'll have to make it."
Bonnie seemed to shake herself. "Ah, no. Actually, I thought...you know, to thank you for everything you did for me last night...helping me with those guys, and then the whole thing with my dad…taking me home and all that, well...I cooked for you." She ended in a shrug, and David realized how embarrassed she was. Or maybe she thought he'd mock her again, ridicule her for her consideration.
He raked a hand through his hair, still holding the sheet with a fist. "What have you got in there?" He indicated the basket with a toss of his head. Bonnie's smile was fleeting, and very relieved.