Kathy Altman - Staying at Joe's

“Looks like a mouser to me.” He held the kitten against his shoulder and regarded Nat solemnly. “Thank you, sport. I’ll take good care of her.”

“I knew you’d love her!”

“I don’t have any—”

“We brought supplies.” Parker gave Nat’s arm a light shake. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get Joe set up and then be on our way. He has things to do and so do we.” While Nat skipped ahead, Parker made a face, reached over and stroked the kitten’s downy head. “You don’t have to keep her. I tried to convince Nat she should ask you first, but she just couldn’t resist bringing her along.”

“Smart kid.”

“We’ll take her back if it doesn’t work out.” He must have looked grateful at that offer because Parker looked disappointed. Still, she knew how hard he worked to keep his life simple. For some reason she—and most of the women he knew—considered that a challenge. And no one could complicate a situation like a woman.

They walked in silence. She stopped him before they reached her truck. “I am sorry, Joe. About your brother. I didn’t even know you had one, until Hazel mentioned him.”

“It’s not something I talk about. But thanks.” He sucked in a breath as the kitten tried to climb his neck. “For everything.”

Ten minutes later, Joe had yet to figure out where to put the damned litter box. The bathroom was too small, the kitchen didn’t bear thinking about and the bedroom was off-limits—the last thing he wanted to hear in the middle of the night was the scrape of claws on plastic. He finally slid the tray under the reception counter, out of sight of the guests but close enough so he’d know right off when it needed cleaning. In went the cat. She immediately started digging, flinging sprays of clay onto the floor.

He had a name for the creature, all right. But he doubted Nat—or her mother—would appreciate it.

The kitten made him think of Allison. He remembered hearing her once say she wanted a cat but spent too much time at the office to make it practical. He’d mocked her at the time. He looked down at Nat’s gift, currently chewing on an electrical cord. With a sigh he snatched her up.

How about you, Gallahan? Anyone proud of you?

His neck muscles went tight. Damn her for bringing the memories back. For reminding him of the life he’d left behind. Of the person he’d been and never wanted to be again. Of disillusionment and betrayal.

Of what he wanted and could never have.

He was tired of money and he was tired of manipulation, in all its forms. Still, he’d already accepted one responsibility today. What was one more?

With that thought, he set the kitten down, snatched up his phone and followed the orange ball of fluff into the kitchen. It bothered the hell out of him that he still knew the number by heart.

“Tackett here.”

“Vince. It’s Joe.”

A pause. Tackett was trying to decide how to play it. Joe wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Let Allison handle the client. She’s more than capable.”

“Mahoney wants you.”

“Unless he’s passing through northeast Pennsylvania and needs a room for the night, I can’t help him.” Joe squatted and scratched at the leg of his jeans. The kitten tensed then pounced, and Joe couldn’t help but smile. “Give her the promotion. She’s earned it.”

“So did Danielle Franks.”

“Got a feeling they earned it in very different ways.”

“You get back here and give Mahoney what he wants and I’ll make sure Allison gets what she wants.”

Fine. A bluff it would be. Slowly, Joe straightened. “You’re not hearing me. I’m not coming back.”

Another pause, this one measured by a series of heavy breaths. But when Vince spoke again his voice carried a casual shrug. “Then Allison’s done at Tackett & Pike.”

Son of a bitch. “You’re willing to sacrifice one of your best employees for Mahoney’s account?”

“I’ll sacrifice every schmuck in the whole damned company for Mahoney’s account.”

Joe swung around and glowered through the window over the sink. He frowned at the tree line, wondering what exactly Nat had seen earlier.

No. What he was doing was trying to ignore the guilt that had been squirming in his gut ever since Allison had laid into him. The very last thing he wanted to do was return to the rat race—hell, T&P had more rodents than Joe had ever had to chase out of his motel. And he knew damned well that as soon as he stepped foot in Alexandria, Vince would start his campaign to keep him there on a permanent basis.

Allison’s elegant face flashed through his thoughts and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, as if he could scour the image away. He didn’t have a choice. But before he could voice his surrender, Tackett barked into the phone.

“Put her on.”

“She’s not here. She came by yesterday, delivered her pitch, I said ‘hell, no’ and she left.”

“Only you didn’t, did you? I talked to her afterward. She told me about your offer and I gave her the two weeks you asked for. Guess she decided to wait until today to seal the deal. So when she gets there, why don’t you set her up with some hard labor? None of that sissy stuff. She’s a cocky little thing—it’ll serve her right. And make sure she knows she’s staying with you. I’m not paying for a hotel when you can put her up at your place.”

With his free hand, Joe gripped the edge of the sink and watched his knuckles turn white. “Don’t play me, Tackett. I come back with her and she keeps her job. And you give her that promotion. And I want that in writing. Understood?”

“Let’s wait and see what you can do for Mahoney.”

“That wasn’t the deal, Tackett. You screw her on this and so help me God I’ll convince Mahoney to take his business elsewhere. Then I’ll convince him to take your staff along with him. And if that doesn’t put you out of business, I’ll open my own agency and do it myself.”

“That’s not ethical,” Tackett blustered.

“You wouldn’t know ethical if it grabbed you by the balls.”

Joe let go of the sink and shook the ache from his fingers. While Tackett lectured him about proprietary information agreements, Joe heard a noise, like something ripping. He tracked the kitten to the bathroom, where she was attacking the cover of a paperback he’d tossed in the corner. He nudged her out with his boot and shut the door. Non-disclosure agreements aside, the threat he’d made was an empty one. He’d start his own agency the day Tackett aced sensitivity training.

He pressed the End button, cutting off Tackett’s monologue, and scowled down at his phone. How the hell did she tolerate that asshole? And more importantly, why? But of course he knew. The money. Apparently whatever she was spending her salary on was worth putting up with Tackett and his crap.

As much as he wanted to despise her for it, he’d once felt the same.

* * *

HE LIFTED HIS head and peered through the trees at the motel across the field. The field that didn’t provide the cover it once had, thanks to the meathead owner and his lawnmower. The dude had no idea he was wasting his time sprucing up this dump.

His breath knifed in and out of his lungs and sweat slicked his skin. Despite his jeans and sweatshirt and the seventy-degree weather, he felt cold as shit.

He huffed out a quiet snort. Make that cold as frozen shit.

No one came back around the corner. The coast was clear. The girl had seen him, but he’d bet that the adults had rolled their eyes and patted her head and discussed in hushed, condescending tones how she must have made it all up. All part of the parental conspiracy to eff up the kiddies.

A hot, sharp anger set his hands to shaking. He gripped his thighs and held his breath, started the usual silent count, felt the fury fade. No sense in unleashing it until he needed it. Slowly he rose out of his squat and leaned against the nearest tree, pine needles rustling under his feet. The uneven bark bit into his shoulder.