The Enforcer - Kelli Callahan Page 0,21

should probably add stuff to it, but I was hoping that I would never have to use one of the bags.”

“One of the bags?” she asks. How many of these bags do you have on the border of Wyoming?”

“One on each side.”

“Good grief Jake, that is almost half of a million dollars in duffle bags, inside unsecured storage containers,” she plainly states.

“Yep, but they’re all insured for as much as they’re worth. No break-in has ever been reported, my ass is covered,” I say, with a nod.

“Right. All the same, I don’t know that I would be able to handle knowing I had that much money, not in a bank or a safe of some sort. I can’t handle not having a backup plan,” I say.

“I guess more people should have them.”

“They should. I agree. Did you know that the CDC actually recommends people have an emergency kit?

“Oh, I did not.”

“Yep. I believe it’s 30 days of food, or something, in the event of a natural disaster.”

“I can see that you know. What with the weather we get.” I nod. “I wonder how many people actually have that?”

“Not many I know in our town,” she says, looking a little sad.

“How would you know that?”

“Because I volunteer at our local shelters and soup kitchens. I like to know what’s going on in my community, and whether or not the people are being taken care of.”

“Sounds like your husband’s job.”

“Remember, it’s ex-husband,” she corrects. And I nod my head. “It was his job.”

“So how do you think he got into office? Are you saying he got in the office because of you?” I asked.

“Yes, in part,” she says. There’s no way he could navigate everything all on his own. Sure he thought that he could believe all kinds of high and mighty things about himself. The fact of the matter was Michael did not know most people. He didn’t know their struggles, their dreams. He was completely out of touch with reality. In the end…” she trails off, looking down at her hands.

“Have you ever considered running?” I ask.

She laughs. “No, I haven’t. And I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?” I wonder. “Sounds like you’d be good at it.”

“Because I’ve had enough of the spotlight,” she sighs. I want to continue living my quiet, little life, volunteering at Parent Teacher Association functions, and at the hospital,” she says with a nod. “I like volunteering and doing charity work,” she continues, stretching her arms above her head. “I think I’d like to do that because I want to. And not do it, because my husband is up for reelection. But because it’s something that brings me joy, something that makes me feel good about myself…” she says.

And I nod my head.

“I understand that good side. I don’t think most people see that side of me.”

“I don’t think they do either,” I agree.

“Seriously, what was your first impression of me?” she asks, and I laugh.

“That bad huh?” she wonders.

“No, not that bad,” I assure her. “It’s just that... well, I thought that you were a beautiful woman,” I say carefully, looking over at her. Her eyes widen.

“What else?” she asks.

“I thought that you had an excellent body,” I say.

Her mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Seriously,” I nod, casually looking her up and down. Her cheeks flush the color of delicate pink roses, and I continue.

“I thought that you had sad eyes,” I say finally, trying to find a way to put it.

“I have sad eyes?” she asks.

“Yes, behind the glamour,” I try to explain to her. There’s a sadness in the way she starts nodding her head. She turned back and stared out the front window of the car.

“What did you think of me?” I asked, with a nervous laugh. Her cheeks start to flush again, and I wonder why.

“I thought that you were a little scary,” she says after a pause, and I laugh. “A huge Goliath,” she adds, gesturing to me as I snort out another laugh. “I thought that you looked like a man who had a lot of stories to tell.”

“I definitely do.”

“I know. Maybe you’ll tell me one, some time?” she asks.

“I will,” I say. “Sounds like we’re going to have plenty of time together for that.”

“Certainly does,” she responds, leaning her head back onto the chair.

Chapter Eight

Diana

Sitting in the Walmart parking lot, I fidget waiting for his return. Despite his teasing, he didn’t make me go in there and stand around in my pajamas. I was a little