“If anyone’s figured that out about me, it’s you.”
He shook out the comforter—we don’t generally make the bed these days, since no one sees it but us—and shoved an extra pillow out of the way. “I can go first. Even though I already spilled my heart out once tonight.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll take a stab at it.” Maybe I was feeling cocky, what with our first premarital gauntlet successfully navigated. “I like it when you pound me.”
There. I said it.
But before I could be too pleased with myself, Jacob threw me a curveball. “Why?”
What kind of question was that?
And yet, when I really thought about it, I had to concede the answer might not be so obvious. Jacob could physically overpower me if he wanted to, and we both knew it. Oh, I might get a few jabs in, but in the end, he was bigger, bulkier, and way more athletic. And the thought of him pinning me down and slamming into me? I dug it. Given my history, the mere thought of being overwhelmed should leave me tearing off in the opposite direction. But not with Jacob. “I like it because…sometimes it feels good to finally let go,” I eventually said. “Because I trust you.”
We left the lights on.
Not usually my preference. I don’t mind seeing Jacob, but it can be distracting to know I’m being seen. Tonight, though—after talking more about our feelings than we had since…well, since ever…why bother hiding in the darkness?
He did me on my back, with my legs hitched loosely over his thighs. A slow, easy fuck, face to face, hands clasped together on the pillow. My plaster cast was still in the way, but he wove together what he could of our fingers. If I had a favorite position, this was the one. As sex goes…pretty basic. And eventually I’d need to reach down between us and help myself along to the grand finale. But maybe certain things become the standard for a reason.
Afterward, we lay there quietly for a moment, considering ourselves. I wasn’t thinking much of anything other than wow, but Jacob was still ruminating on the meeting. He said, “When we were talking to Pastor Jill about our finances…did I come off too glib?”
“You’re always glib—although the pastor’s bullshit meter did seem pretty sensitive. But since when are you nervous about money?”
“I’m not.” He dragged a finger through the jizz drying on my belly. “She’s right, though. Money is about so much more than just money, and I want to make sure you really are good with our finances, and not just saying you are to avoid a confrontation.”
I gave a silent laugh. “I’m a ball of anxiety about practically everything—so I’d advise you to sit back and enjoy the one area of my life where I’m not a complete basket case.”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Jacob drew a few more swirls. “You’re really easygoing in so many ways.”
Maybe. But wasn’t that like saying the stern of the Titanic stayed pretty dry as the ship went nose-down?
“I’m serious, Vic.” Jacob nudged my jaw with a tacky forefinger to make me look him in the eye. “I realized just how lucky I am when you said you trusted me.”
“In bed?”
“That, too. But the first time you said it, about our finances—especially the way you were so sure of it with Pastor Jill. It means a lot.”
Funny. While the minister was raking us over the coals, I’d been blurting out whatever came to mind, while Jacob was busy curating his answers to make our relationship sound as healthy as possible. But the exercise got to him anyhow, and now he was feeling all sappy. I kissed him gently, deliberately, then told him, “We’re solid, mister. We’re good.”
We lay together like that, basking in our big moment—and our big-O—at least until the pecuniary concerns started drifting in.
I said, “We need a safety net. In cash. In case we ever need to pull a Con Dreyfuss and disappear.”
“Agreed.” Jacob pushed himself up reluctantly from the dent he’d been putting in the mattress. “Let’s go hit the ATM.”
5
WAS IT ENTIRELY rational to go grab fifty bucks right that second? Obviously not. But it would make us feel a hell of a lot better. So we threw on some clothes and headed out.
“I’ll find out the best way to start skimming,” Jacob said. That was just one benefit about being Internal Affairs. Your co-workers can teach you all kinds of cool tricks. “But a few dollars here, a few dollars there would be really hard to track.”
We headed over to a walk-up machine on Lawrence, the one that was right outside the hardware store where we had fake keys cut whenever a sensitive conversation needed to occur. This particular ATM let you choose the denomination of your withdrawal, and we’d decided it was best to go for bigger bills, which would be less bulky to hide. We parked and made our way up the block. As we did, I said, “I’ve been on enough busts, back when I was on patrol, to know that anyplace you’d think to hide something is the first place anyone’s gonna look. Particularly the toilet tank.”
“And the freezer,” Jacob said. “Those fake cans they sell for hiding valuables aren’t realistic, either. Plus, it’s gotta be something we can grab in a hurry. So prying loose a brick in the basement won’t do us much good. We’ll start by keeping our wallets topped off, and then scope out a few good spots near the front door.”
Jacob ponied up to the machine and stuck his card in the slot. As he did, I wondered how obvious it would be if I took out some money too. What would I normally do? Not that anything about me is normal. But typically, if we stopped for cash and I was low, it would only make sense for me to grab some, myself.
Overthinking everything is exhausting, so I was pretty stoked about coming to a decision without too many mental gymnastics.
But I was so focused on patting myself on the back that I didn’t notice anything was wrong until we had company.
The ATM was lit up bright to encourage a false sense of security in its customers. While a well-lit location in plain view is safer than a dark, out-of-the-way alley, a desperate enough crackhead might very well be willing to roll the dice and take their chances.
I saw Jacob’s shadow. And my shadow.
And another shadow.
With no one casting it.
I was more startled than afraid—until the temperature plummeted, and my breath left my body in a frigid curl of air.
Most of the spirits I run into can be handled by convincing them to cross over, or urging them through the veil with Florida Water and salt. But then I stumble across a scary, messed-up ghost that reminds me it never pays to get too complacent. And judging by queasy feeling in the pit of my gut, this was one of those times.
Instinctively, I grabbed Jacob by the back of his sweatshirt and hauled him away from the shadow. Since I wasn’t holding a reserve, white light didn’t jump from me to him in a burst, but flowed instead—and that drain was just as disconcerting. Energy surged in through my third eye and out through my fist, like I was nothing but a big, hollow drinking straw.
I let go, fast, but Jacob felt the zap. And while he might not be able to see when something dead was crashing the party, he could sense it. He swung around one way, then the other—fast, like he was clearing a room.