Covet - A Novel of Fallen Angel Part 3

Jim stripped down and dumped the shirt into the leaning tower of dirty laundry by the bed. As he walked his headache into the stall shower, he was reminded of why not having a lot of furniture was a good thing. Short of his two piles of clothes, the clean and the needed-to-be-cleaned, all he had was the rattan couch that the studio had come with and a table with two chairsa"all of which were mercifully out of the path to the bathroom.

He shaved fast and showered quick; then it was boxers and the Levias and four aspirin. Undershirt was next, followed by socks and boots. On the way to the door, he grabbed his tool belt and his work jacket.

His rental was on top of a garage-like outbuilding, and he paused at the top of the stairs, squinting so hard he bared his teeth. G.o.dd.a.m.naall that eye-piercing light made it seem like the sun had decided to return the Earthas attraction and move a little closer to seal the deal.

Down the creaking wooden steps. Across the gravel drive to the cold truck. All the way with an expression like he had a spike through his foot.

As he opened the driveras-side door, he caught a whiff of perfume and cursed. Images came back to him, all of them carnal as h.e.l.l, each one of them another source of inspiration for the headache.

He was still cursing and squinting as he drove out the lane and past the white farmhouse, the owner of which was his elderly landlord, Mr. Perlmutter. No one had lived in the big place for as long as Jim had been a renter, its windows boarded up on the inside, its porch perennially empty of wicker anything.

That n.o.body-home routine along with the thirty daysa notice to get out were his two favorite parts about where he stayed.

On the way to work, he pulled into a gas station and bought a large coffee, a turkey sub, and a c.o.ke. The quick mart smelled like old shoes and laundry softener, and there was a probability that the sandwich had been made last week in Turkey, but head been eating the same thing for the last month and was still upright in his boots, so the s.h.i.t obviously wasnat killing him.

Fifteen minutes later he was steaming up Route 151N, drinking his coffee, wearing his sungla.s.ses, and feeling marginally more human. The job site was on the western sh.o.r.e of the Hudson River, and when he got to the turnoff for it, he recapped the Styrofoam mug and ten-and-twoad the wheel. The lane that went down the peninsula was pothole central, thanks to all the heavy-duty machinery that had barreled across its bare back, and the truckas shock absorbers b.i.t.c.hed and moaned the whole way.

At some point there was going to be manicured lawn everywhere, but for the moment the rolling earth resembled the skin of a fifteen-year-old boy. There were countless tree stumps across the s.h.a.ggy winter-brown gra.s.sa"pimples on the face of the land that had been created by a team of guys with chain saws. And that wasnat the worst of it. Four whole cabins had been torn down, their footings and the bald plots beneath their first floors all that was left of structures that had been there for over a hundred years.

But everything had to go. That was the command from the general contractor.

Who was his own client.

And about as much fun as a hangover on a cheery, chilly morning.

Jim pulled into the line of pickups that was forming as more of the workers came in. He left the sandwich and the c.o.ke behind on the floor of the cab to stay cool and crossed the tire-chewed dirt tracks toward the gestating house. With its skeleton of two-by-fours erected, its skin was now going up, the particleboard sheets being nailed onto the bone structure of the frame.

f.u.c.king thing was a monster, so big it was capable of making those McMansions in town seem the size of dollhouses.

aJim.a aChuck.a Chuck, the foreman, was a six-foot guy with square shoulders, a round gut, and a perpetual cigar stub shoved in his moutha"and that was about it for conversation with him. Thing was, Jim was clear which part of the house he was working on and what he was going to do, and both men knew it. With a crew of about twenty carpenters on the project, there were varying degrees of skill and commitment and sobriety, and Chuck knew the drill with everybody. If you had half a brain and could throw a hammer well, he left you alone, because f.u.c.k knew he had enough on his plate with the jackholes.

Jim braced himself and headed for the supplies. The nail boxes were kept stacked in a lockable cabinet on the six-car garageas concrete slab, and next to them, lined up in a row, were the gas-powered electrical generators that were already going at a roar. Wincing at the noise, he stepped over the snakes of extension cords that ran out to the table saws and the nail guns and filled up the pouch on the left side of his tool belt.

It was a relief to head for the southern side of the housea"which, considering the floor plan, was practically in the next county. Setting to work, he began hefting six-foot-by-four-foot sections of particleboard and locking them in place against the framers. He used a hammer instead of a nail gun because he was just that flavor of old schoola"and because even with the manual stuff he was one of the fastest carpenters around.

The sound of a pair of Harleys coming down the dirt drive brought his head up.

Eddie and Adrian pulled their bikes in together and dismounted in sync, removing their leather jackets and their black sungla.s.ses in the same rhythm too. As they approached the house, they came gunning in his direction and Jim groaned: Adrian was looking at him with a whole lot of what-the-h.e.l.l-happened-with-the-hottie on his pierced face.

Which meant the guy had noticed that Blue Dress disappeared about the same time Jim did.

as.h.i.t,a he muttered.

aWhat?a Jim shook his head at the guy next to him and refocused on what he was doing. Positioning one of the sheets against the frame, he held it with his hip, unhooked his hammer from his belt, got a nail, and pounded. Repeat. Repeat. Repeata"

aHave fun last night?a Adrian said as he came up.

Jim just kept on pounding.

aAh, come on, I donat need all the detailsa"but you could spare me a few.a Adrian glanced at his roommate. aBack me up, would ya?a Eddie just walked by and knocked his shoulder into Jim, which was his version of a good morning. Without being asked, he took over bracing the particleboard, which freed Jim up to hammer twice as fast. They were a great team, although Adrian balanced out the pace. He was less than industrious, preferring to spend his time f.u.c.king around and running his mouth. It was a wonder he hadnat gotten fired in the four weeks head been on the site.

Ad leaned against a naked doorjamb and rolled his eyes. aYou arenat going to tell me whether you got a birthday present or not?a aNope.a Jim positioned a nail and creamed the head of it. Two hits and the top was flush with the board and then he got another fresh shot at imagining Adrianas face on a target.

aYou suck.a Yes, he certainly had last nighta"not that it was any business of that friendly neighborhood gum-flapping motherf.u.c.ker with a metal fetish.

Things fell into their usual rhythm, and the other guys got out of Jim and Eddieas way as they went around, closing the gap from where theyad stopped the day before, sealing things up from the spring rains that were just starting. The house was going to be about fifteen thousand square feet in size, so to get it battened down tight in just one week was a tall order. Still, Jim and Eddie were busting a.s.s, and the roofers were already halfway across the rafters. By the end of the weekend, they werenat going to have to worry about the cold drizzle or the freezing wind anymore, and thank G.o.d for it. Yesterday had been a suckfest of wet and nasty, and there were still puddles here and there that splashed up onto his jeans.

Lunchtime came quickly, which was what happened when he worked with Eddie, and while the other guys propped themselves on the edge of the house facing the sun, Jim went back to his truck and ate alone sitting in the cab.

The sandwich was still cold, which always improved the taste, and the c.o.ke was spectacular.

As he sat on his own and chewed, he glanced over to the empty seat next to himaand remembered dark hair spilling over the upholstery and the arch of a female neck in the dash lights and the feel of a soft body beneath his.

He was such a s.h.i.t, taking advantage of her like that, and yet, after it was all done, shead smiled up at him as if head given her exactly what shead wanted. Except that couldnat be true. s.e.x between strangers was just a temporary reprieve from loneliness. How could that be enough for someone like her? Christ, he didnat even know her name. When the deep breathing had pa.s.sed, shead kissed him and lingered on his lips; then shead pulled the top of her dress up and the bottom of it down, and left him.

With a curse, Jim threw open the driveras-side door and took his lunch around to the back b.u.mper. It was warmer out in the sun, but more to the point, the air smelled like fresh pine boards, not perfume. As he turned his face to the sky and tried to wipe clean his mind, he lost interest in the sandwich, putting it aside on its Saran Wrap and focusing on the c.o.ke instead.

The dog appeared a moment later, peeking out from behind a stack of felled trees that were due for removal. The thing was the size of a small terrier and had a coat that looked like mottled steel wool. One ear was flopped over and it had some kind of scar on its muzzle.

Jim lowered his c.o.ke bottle as the two of them locked stares.

d.a.m.n animal was frightened and using the grizzled stumps as cover because they were far, far larger than he was, but he was also starved: Going by the way that little black nose was sniffing the breeze, clearly the smell of the turkey was calling him.

The dog took a tentative step out. And then another. And another.

It walked with a limp.

Jim reached to the side slowly, putting his hand on the sandwich. Popping off the top of the roll, he pushed aside the languid lettuce and the Styrofoam tomato, and picked up a slice of turkey.

Leaning down, he extended the meat. aDonat taste like much, but it wonat kill you. Promise.a The dog circled, closing in with that gimpy front paw, the spring wind lifting its wiry coat and showing sharp ribs. The thing had its head extended as far as the neck would allow, and its back legs were trembling as if they were ready to leap into a retreat at any second. Hunger, however, pushed it to go where it didnat want to be.

Jim stayed still and let the animal inch closer to him.

aCome on, son,a Jim said roughly. aYou need this.a Up close, the dog looked exhausted, and when it took the turkey it was with a swift snap and a back-away. Jim got another piece ready, and this time the animal came more quickly and didnat move away so fast. The third piece was accepted with a delicate mouth, as if the animalas innate nature were not what its experiences had turned it into.

Jim fed the thing the roll, too. aThatas it.a The dog planted its b.u.t.t in front of Jim, curling into a sit and tilting its head to one side. There were smart eyes on the thing. Smart, old, tired eyes.

aIam not a dog person.a Evidently, the dog didnat understand English. In a leap that was surprisingly graceful, it propelled itself up into Jimas lap.

aWhat theaa Jim lifted his arms out of the way and stared down. aJesus, you donat weigh much.a Duh. Probably hadnat eaten in days.

Jim put a tentative hand on its back. Christ. All he felt was bones.

The whistle blown meant lunch was over, so Jim gave the dog one stroke before putting it back on the ground. aSorryalike I said, not a dog person.a He grabbed his tool belt out of the cab and strapped it back on as he walked away. The look over his shoulder was a bad idea.

s.h.i.t, the dog was under the truck, behind the back tire, and those old eyes were on Jim.

aI donat do pets,a Jim called out as he went off.

The purring sound of a car approaching rolled across the job site, and when the men who were lined up on the lip of the house looked over, their expressions fell into a collective f.u.c.k-mea"which meant Jim didnat have to pull another over-the-shoulder to know exactly who it was.

The general contractor/owner/pain in the a.s.s was here again.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h showed up at all different times of the day, like he didnat want to set a schedule the crew could depend on so his spot inspections would be more accurate. And it so didnat take a genius to figure out what he was looking for: lax workers, sloppy construction, mistakes, theft. Made you feel like you were dishonest and lazy even if you werenat, and for a lot of the guys that was an insult they were willing to let pa.s.s only because they were always paid on time on Friday.

Jim stepped up his pace as the BMW M6 pulled up right next to him. He didnat look at the car or the driver: He always stayed out of the guyas way, not because he had anything to apologize for in terms of performance, but because he was a grunt, pure and simple: When the general came to inspect the troops, the chain of command mandated that the a.s.shole was Chuck the foremanas problem, not Jimas.

Thank you, Jesus.

Jim hopped up onto the flooring, and headed back over to where head been working. Eddie, ever ready to pitch in, followed and so did Adrian.

aHolyas.h.i.t.a aOkayawow.a aMadre de Diosaa The comments bubbling up from the workers made Jim glance back.

Oh, h.e.l.l, noatalk about your f.u.c.k-me-and-a-halfs: A stunningly beautiful brunette was stepping out of the car with the grace of a flag unfurling in a calm breeze.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. And saw her in the cab of his truck, stretched out with her perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s bare to his mouth.

aNow, that is a h.e.l.luva woman,a one of the workers said.

Man, there were times in life when disappearing was a great idea. Not because you were a p.u.s.s.y, but because you really didnat need the ha.s.sle of dealing.

This was one of them. And then some.

aWell, s.h.i.t, Jimaa Adrian dragged a hand through his thick hair. aThatasaa Yeah, he knew. aGot nothing to do with me. Eddiea"you ready with that board?a As Jim went to turn away, the brunette looked up and their eyes met. Her lovely face flickered with recognition, just as her man walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Jim took a step back without looking where he was going.

It happened in an instant. Faster than the strike of a match. Quicker than a gasp.

The heel of Jimas boot landed on a piece of two-by-four that was lying across an extension cord and gravity took hold of his body, sweeping him off balance. As he fell, he split the cord from its joining with another, and sent the live end popping free and flipping into one of the puddles.

Jim hit the flooring in a loose sprawl of limbsawhich ordinarily would have just left him with some bruises on his a.s.s and his shoulders.

But his bare hand landed in the water.

The electrical shock blared up his arm and slammed directly into his heart. As his spine jacked for the sky and his teeth locked together, his eyes flew wide and his hearing shorted out, the world receding until all he knew was the wild, consuming pain in his body.

The last image he had was of Eddieas long braid swinging wide as the guy lunged forward to help.

Vin didnat see the guy fall. But he heard the hard landing of a big body and then the scramble of boots and the shouted curses as people ran over from all directions.

aStay here,a he told Devina as he took out his cell phone.

He punched in 911 as he rushed toward the commotion, but didnat hit send yet. Jumping up onto the floorboards, he jogged overa"

His thumb hit a b.u.t.ton and the call was made.

The workman on the ground had eyes that were fixed and unseeing on the bright blue sky overhead, and his limbs were stiff as a corpseas. The live extension cord remained in the puddle, but the manas spasms had carried him away from the source of the deadly charge.

Vinas ring was answered. aNine-one-one, what kind of emergency is this?a aA manas been electrocuted.a Vin dropped the phone from his mouth. aTurn off the f.u.c.king generators!a Lifting the cell back up, he said, aJob site address is Seventy-seven Rural Route one-fifty-one N. He appears to be unconscious.a aIs someone administering CPR?a aThey will be right now.a Vin handed the phone off to Chuck the foreman and pulled guys out of the way.

Dropping to his knees, he yanked the workmanas jacket open and put his head down on a muscled chest. No heartbeat and a hover over the mouth revealed no breathing, either.

Vin yanked the guyas head back, did an airway check, pinched the nose, and blew two breaths deep into those frozen lungs. Moving to the chest, he linked his hands together, positioned his palms over the guyas heart, and stiff-armed ten compressions. Two more breaths. Thirty more compressions. Two more breaths. Thirty more compressions. Two more breathsa The color in the guyas face wasnat good and only got worse.

The ambulance took about fifteen minutes to come, although not because they werenat hauling a.s.s. Caldwell was nearly ten miles away, and that was the kind of geography no amount of pedal-to-the-metal was going to improve. The second they arrived, the EMTs didnat waste any time getting up into the house, and they took over from Vin, doing a vital statistics check before one continued what Vin had started and the other went racing back for the gurney.

aIs he alive?a Vin asked when the workman was lifted from the floor.

He didnat get an answer because the medics were moving too fasta"which maybe was a good sign.

aWhere are you taking him?a Vin said as he hopped off the foundation and hustled along with them.

aSt. Francis. You got a name, age, anything on his medical history?a aChuck! Get over herea"we need information.a The foreman ran up. aJim Heron. I donat know much more than that. Lives alone down on Pershing Lane.a aYou got an emergency contact?a aNo, heas not married or anything.a aIam the contact,a Vin said, taking out a card and giving it to the medic.

aAre you kin?a aIam his boss and all youave got at the moment.a aOkay, someone from St. Francis will be in touch.a The medic disappeared Vinas info into his jacket and the workman was shoved into the ambulance. A split second later, the double doors were shut, and the vehicle took off with lights and sirens going.

aIs he going to be okay?a Vin looked back at Devina. Her dark eyes were glossy with unshed tears and her hands were up around the collar of her fur coat, as if in spite of all the white mink she was freezing cold.

aI donat know.a He went over and loosely took her arm. aChuck, Iall be right back. Iam going to take her home first.a aYou do that.a Chuck took his hard hat off and shook his head. ad.a.m.n it. d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l. He was one of the good ones.a

CHAPTER 5.

aNigel, you are a sod.a Jim frowned in the darkness that surrounded him. The English voice came from over on the right, and the immediate temptation was to open his eyes, lift his head, and see what was doing.

Training overrode the impulse. Thanks to being in the military, head learned that when you came to and didnat know where you were, it was better to possum it until you had some intel.

Moving imperceptibly, he flattened his hands out and felt around. He was on something soft, but it was springy, like a deep-napped rug oragra.s.s?

Inhaling deep, his nose confirmed his palmsa observation. s.h.i.t, fresh gra.s.s?

In a rush, his accident at the job site came back to hima"except, what the h.e.l.l? Last thing he knew head had one hundred and twenty volts of electricity sizzling through his bodya"so it seemed logical to a.s.sume that if he could still string two thoughts together he must be alive and therefore in a hospital. Except as far as he knew, hospital beds were not covered inasod.

And in the States most nurses and doctors didnat sound like British lords or call each other lawns.

Jim opened his eyes. The sky overhead was dappled with cotton-puff clouds, and though there was no sun to see, the glow was all summer Sundaya"not just bright and stormless, but relaxing, as if there were nothing urgent to do, nothing to worry about.

He looked over to the voicesaand decided he was dead.

In the shade of a castleas great stone walls, four guys with croquet mallets were standing around a bunch of wickets and colored b.a.l.l.s. The quartet was dressed in whites, and one had a pipe and another a pair of round, rose-tinted gla.s.ses. The third had his hand on the head of an Irish wolfhound. Number four had his arms crossed over his chest and an expression like he was bored.