My heart leapt at the invitation, it really did. Between the smell of her, and the knowledge we were alone and could maybe discuss something other than business, I was tempted to accept her invite. But, there was a mission here, one of protecting her. I sighed and shook my head. “Sorry, Jessica, you know we're not getting paid to sit around and drink coffee with the client. I should really get back up front and keep an eye on the place.”
“Sorry,” she said, smiling like it was no big deal. “I forget sometimes what it's like to have people around while you're working. Most of the time I'm here alone. Sheila, my friend who I heard about you guys through, has been helping me figure out the books for the gallery, so I've been spoiled with having her around. But, working here all alone can get, well, lonely.”
“Believe me,” I said with a grin, “I understand your pain. I've had to work quite a few stakeouts all by my lonesome. It can be tough.”
She glanced away, back to her desk. “Well, you should probably get back at it, then. Hate to have your boss come along and get upset or something.”
I laughed. “I think Peter would be fine with me coming in. But, I'll let him know you're concerned about employee performance.”
Just as she laughed again, the phone began to ring.
I tensed up and began to look around for the phone.
“Don't worry about it,” she said. “It's just the fax. It'll pick up in just a minute.”
“You still have a fax?” I asked. “Thought those died out while I was over in Afghanistan.”
She laughed as she got up and went over to see what was printing. “We get a lot of faxes, actually. Shipping orders from some older customers, that kind of thing. Some of our suppliers even send our invoices that way . . .” she said, then trailed off as she stared down at the print out from the fax machine.
“Jessica?” I asked. “Everything okay?”
She picked up the page, groaned as she turned back to me with it in hand, holding it out and away from her like it was contaminated, or might bite. A look of horror twisted her face.
“What is it?” I asked, crossing the room and taking it from her. I looked from the page to her face, and back again.
The same phrase covered the sheet over and over again in small, tight, single spaced font. “LEAVE ENCHANTED ROCK OR ELSE. LEAVE ENCHANTED ROCK OR ELSE.” All the way across the page, from left margin to right, a solid block of threatening anger ran from the top of the sheet to the bottom. As I read over the screed, more sheets came streaming out. They must have sent page after page of this stuff! What kind of psycho did this?
“I don't even . . .” she began, her lower lip trembling, before bursting into tears.
I went on impulse and pulled her into my chest, her warm, tiny body pressing into mine.
“Why?” she cried into me, her body wracked with sobs, her arms wrapping themselves around me, pulling herself tighter. “Why me, Richard?”
“I can't tell you,” I said, unsure of what else I could offer her as I soothed the back of her hair down. “But, I do know we're going to keep you safe, alright? You got me, you got Peter. We'll protect you. Okay? I promise.”
Slowly, her tears began to dry, and the sobs began to quiet. She pulled back, wiping streaks of eyeliner from her face. “You promise?”
“Well,” I said, stepping back from our embrace and smiling down at her, “that's what you're paying for, right?”
She laughed and shook her head, looked away from me. “Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?” She broke away from our moment of embrace and went over to her desk, reached down into a drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. Not caring if I was there, or not, she blew her nose.
God, I realized, even her nose blowing was cute. That was it, I had to get back to my Jeep. “You going to be fine in here? Alone?”
She sniffled. “Yeah, I think so. I'll probably close up shop early, though, head home.”
“Well, you have my number. If you need anything, I'll be right out the front doors. Text, call, whatever. If you decide to leave, just go, I'll be right on your tail.”
She smirked. “Right on it, huh? Even with my face looking like this?”
I blushed a little, actually blushed, and looked away. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”
She took a long look at me, at my reaction, gave a little hand wave. “Sorry, that was, uh, inappropriate.”
“Don't worry. You're stressed. People do weird things during stress. In the service, I knew one guy who would say the alphabet backwards every time we got into a fire fight. That was inappropriate.”
She laughed, wiped another tear from her eye. “Did he do it with the whole song and everything?”