If not? He hated to think that far ahead. Sirens came from the distance as the officer down call was relayed. He sent detectives to interview the crow... of people who’d stepped from the restaurant and anyone else seen on the streets, hoping someone caught a car description or a license plate number. The ambulance showed and Dean was carted aboard strapped to a backboard with a thick white collar around his neck. He hadn’t regained consciousness. The EMTs had put oxygen on him, starting a line of. He sipped the single-malt scotch; the scent prickled his nose as he felt the slight burn on his tongue before swallowing. Locking the door to his office, he started with his work messages, most of which were updates, meeting notes, or other bits of information passed down. Then he looked at his personal e-mail that had messages from family and friends, as well as businesses that sent him advertisements. Once these two accounts were purged, he opened the secret account he and his mistress used. It was OK for the time being. I was having a great deal of fun with her. She laughed easily at my jokes and, something kind of rare for me, she made me laugh too. Of course, most nights after our dates I’d have such vivid images in my head (a glimpse of a bra strap, a picture of her perfect little butt, a guess as to whether it was her nipple I was making out through whatever she wore) that I had plenty — of at least a part of her — to keep me personally entertained through the elongating fall. “I’m glad you never brought me that shot.” He looks at me, still backing away to the door. “Well, freshen up. Get your mind cleared.” “Jake.” I’m delighted to see him stop again. “Bring me some clothes from my bedroom, please?” He smiles. “No problem. I’ll leave them by the door.” “No. Bring them in here. I don’t want someone out there taking my clothes!” “But…you’ll be in the shower.” “You can put the clothes on the counter without looking.” I’m looking at him too seriously. I’m supposed to.
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