He puts his arms around my upper chest and yanks me into him again. He leans down and kisses my head and simply says, “Sugar,” and walks out in his jeans and bare chest.
I hear the security system beep off and the garage door open before slamming shut. I go to let Mia out and head to my master bath to wash my face, make some semblance of my hair, and brush my teeth. With the toothbrush in my mouth, Jude comes in with a gym bag, still wearing just his jeans with the top two buttons left undone. I spit, rinse, and turn to him.
He moves close, putting his hand on the back of my head, tipping it back and says in a low voice, “You going to join me or make coffee?”
My eyes get big, but he smiles even bigger. Finally, I manage some words. “Towels are in the drawer. I’ll make coffee.” I hear him chuckling as I skedaddle out of the bathroom.
With the coffee brewing, I hear the water go off and all my thoughts are on Jude, naked in my shower, so I’m not paying attention to anything else when I hear my purse ringing from the island where I dumped it last night in my state of drunkenness. Not thinking clearly, I dig my phone out and slide my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“Gabby? Why haven’t you called me?”
All of a sudden, I’m whisked back to reality by the voice on the other end.
“Megan?”
“Yes, it’s Megan. Have you forgotten who I am? That you’re my friend? You were at my house when the police barged in and you haven’t even called to check on me?”
Even this level of drama is a bit much for Megan, so I try and calm her. “I’m sorry. Tony didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to contact you—”
“You’re abandoning me? My life is upside down. They’re accusing Trevor of terrible things that aren’t true. He can’t even come home for fear of what they’ll do to him!”
“Do you know where Trevor is?”
“No. He says he can’t tell me. He’s trying to clear his name, gather evidence he needs to convince all those agents he’s not doing what they’re accusing him of doing.”
“Megan, slow down. He won’t tell you where he is? Don’t you think that’s strange?”
Her voice zips through the phone in a mixture of anger and panic. “This whole thing is crazy, Gabby. All of our funds have been frozen. Trevor’s not here and I have zero access to any money!” she screams.
“Maybe he should talk to the authorities, try and explain what he—”
Then, for the second time this week, my phone is plucked out of my hand.
“Megan Harper?” Jude starts. “Yeah. This is Special Agent Jude Ortiz with the FBI. That’s right. I was at your house the day the warrants were served. You are not to contact Gabrielle Carpino, do you understand? No, I don’t think you do understand. Do not to contact her again. Gabrielle has nothing to do with this and until everything is over, you will not see her or communicate with her in any way. Do I make myself clear? Good.” With that, he slams my phone down on the counter.
Yet again shocked by him taking over the situation, I find myself standing here with my mouth hanging open.
“We told you not to talk to her, Gabby,” Jude warns in a serious voice.
“I simply answered the phone, I was distracted and didn’t look at the Caller ID, sorry,” I say but don’t mean it, feeling a little petulant. “You didn’t have to be mean to her. I was just asking about Trevor and where he was for you.”
“I don’t need your help, but more importantly, I don’t want your help. I don’t want you near any of this. You need to stay out of it.”
“What’s going on, Jude? Megan said their funds are frozen and he hasn’t come home, something about him needing evidence to prove he’s not doing what you think he’s doing. I know Trevor Harper isn’t a good guy and I need protected from something. It’s time you tell me what he’s done.”
Jude doesn’t say a word. He stands there assessing me. Assessing me with his wet hair, in a clean pair of jeans that are old and faded but fit like a glove, and topped with a black ribbed V-neck t-shirt. He’s not touching me but I can smell my soap and shampoo on him. Something about him standing in my kitchen with wet hair smelling like my stuff feels more intimate than ever.
I close the step separating us and fit myself to the front of him, placing my hands flat on his chest and say quietly, “Please don’t keep this from me. I’m a bigger girl than you think I am, Jude.”
He sighs, putting his hands on his hips to look at my ceiling. I guess found the answer he was looking for up there, because he looks back down and puts his hands on both sides of my neck and lays it out. “Harper is a transporter—a smuggler—and a big one. He manages it through different companies he uses for cover. His network is big and he’s tied to top level cartel members.”
“A smuggler?”
“Of guns, Gabby. Massive amounts of them,” he explains. “His network is wide and varied. He sells guns and high-powered ammo to cartel members in Mexico and Central America. Omaha is centrally located, it’s no coincidence this is his home base. He’s not from here, but he chose a wife who was as cover. He’s from Michigan. We’ve been working this case with the ATF for months now. We didn’t know he was into guns to begin with, his communication with cartels gave him away and that’s how we found out about his gun smuggling operation. Now it’s a combined operation with both agencies.”
I’m standing here shocked, not because Jude just verified that Trevor is an even bigger jackwagon than I thought, but because my friend Megan—as high drama as she is—is being used for cover. His wife who loves him and has given him three children is simply a pawn in a game of underworld gun distribution.
I look up at Jude and breathe, “Megan?”
He can tell I’m sideswiped. His face gets soft, he dips his head close and looking right into my eyes, lays it out. “You cannot talk to her right now, Gabby. It’s important for your own safety. You cannot get into the middle of this. I’ve known you for five whole days, sugar, and last night you told me that even though it’s only been five days, what’s happening here means something to you. I’m telling you it means something to me, too, so I’m trusting you with this information. I need to trust that you’ll do what I say to keep yourself safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please help me out here and do as I say. Can you do that for me, Gabby?”
All I do is stare up at him. I mean, I was drunk last night, but not incoherent. I know I said things to Jude that I’d not otherwise have said had I not been loose lipped and drunk, but every word I let loose was true. I remember everything and meant absolutely every word. I want him, a lot. I like him here with me, in my house, and with my family. It’s only been five days—really just four and a half if you want to get technical—but everything that’s happened during that time has been weighty and meaningful. I remember not wanting him to leave me last night, I remember wanting to be close to him and him giving that to me but not taking advantage of it. But most of all, even though the last four and a half days have been crazy, emotional and tiring, I haven’t felt the loneliness I’ve been overflowing with for the past three years and eight months.