I'd picked pink socks, too. And my favorite pink and white high-tops. I was the brightest maid in Shakespeare. To hell with the cold and rain.
"Aren't you going to ask me? About what I was doing last night?" he said. He was sitting on the end of the bed, looking braced for an attack.
I finished tying one bow, put my right foot on the floor, lifted my left. "I guess not," I said. "I'm reckoning it has something to do with guns, the Winthrop clan, and maybe Del Packard's murder. But I don't know. Better not tell me, unless you need someplace to run to when the bad guys are chasing you."
I'd meant that lightly, but Jack thought I was telling him he should explain his business to me since he'd taken shelter in my home; that he owed me, since he'd "used" me. I could see his face harden, see the distance opening.
"I mean that literally," I told him. "Better not tell me, unless they're after you."
"What will you do, Lily," he asked, putting his arms around me as I stood, "what will you do, when they come after me?"
I smiled. "I'll fight," I said.
Chapter Seven
Getting Jack to his apartment, though it was just a few yards away, was quite a challenge. At least it was his day off, and his shoulder would have a chance to rest before he had to show up at Winthrop Sporting Goods. It would have looked better if he could have worked out at Body Time this morning, but it was beyond even someone as determined as Jack Leeds. He was hurting.
I gave him my last hoarded pain pill to take when he got home. He stowed it in his pocket. Then, when nothing was passing on Track Street, he ducked out my kitchen door and into my car. I backed out and drove out of my driveway and into the Garden Apartments driveway, going all the way to the rear parking area. When I was closest to the door, so close it would be hard to see from the rear windows of the top apartments, Jack jumped out and went inside. I pulled into Marcus Jefferson's former space and followed him in, to provide myself with a reason for entering the apartment parking lot. Even to me, this seemed a bit overly careful, but Jack had just given me a look to reinforce his admonishment that "these people" were very dangerous.
So I climbed the stairs to work in Deedra's apartment, which was absolutely normal and gave me a bona fide reason to enter the building at this hour. I carried my caddy of cleaning materials up the stairs, expecting Jack would already be in his apartment and trying to get his clothes off to bathe, without upsetting his wound. I'd offered to help, but he wanted my day to run absolutely normally.
Far from being empty, the landing was full of men and suspicion. Darcy and the bullish Cleve Ragland were waiting in front of Jack's door. They were having a face-off with Jack, who was standing with his keys in his hand.
"... don't have to tell anyone where I spend the night," Jack was saying, and there was a cold edge to his voice that meant business.
He hadn't wanted us to be publicly associated. For that matter, neither had I. I should unlock Deedra's apartment and trot back downstairs to get my mop, leaving Jack to stonewall his way through this. That was what he'd want me to do.
"Hey again, Lily," Darcy said, surprise evident in his voice. He looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but Cleve was showing signs of wear and tear. He hadn't shaved, and maybe had slept in his clothes.
"You keep long hours, Darcy," I replied, depositing my caddy at Deedra's door and joining the little group. Jack glared at me.
"We just come by here to see if Jared was all right," Darcy said, and his flat blue eyes swung back to Jack. "We rung him last night after the robbery and got no answer."
"And I was telling you," Jack said just as coldly, "that what I do on my time off is my business."
I approached Jack from his left, put my arm around him, blocking the wounded side in case they tried clapping him on the shoulder.
"Our business," I corrected him, looking steadily at Darcy.
"Whoo-ee," Darcy said, sticking his hands in his own jean pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. His heavy coat