Free Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 by Christina Ross

Rowe’s chief of
security.   A lot of us guys in the
security trade hang out every now and then.   Beers, pool—that sort of thing.   Rowe’s man is one of my better
friends.   I can give him a call and
root around, but I can’t promise you anything.”
    “I’d be grateful if you would try
something, Tank.”
    “All of us work by a code.   We never share confidential
information.   It’s a long shot,
Jennifer, but I’ll try.”
    “You never know what he might
say.   Thank you for at least
trying.   And please reassure him
that if he shares anything he has on Rowe, it will never come back to him.   Do what you can.   At this point, I’m afraid the situation
is fairly desperate, Tank.   Alex is
under siege by that man.   Rowe wants
to crush him, and I think he’s about to do just that.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    When Alex finally returned home to
our apartment, Wenn’s stock was down a full seventy-three points for the
day.  
    The moment I heard the door click
shut, I shut off CNN and hurried out of the living room and into Alex’s
arms.   For a long moment, we just
stood still in the entryway, holding each other in a tense kind of
silence.  
    Alex reached up a hand to stroke
the back of my hair, and when he did, I felt a little of that tension fall
away.   He was home now.   He was where he needed to be.   I held him tighter against me, and he
let his briefcase fall to the floor so that he could embrace me freely with
both arms.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said in his ear.
    “For what?”
    “For the day you’ve had.   None of it could have been easy.”
    He pulled away from me and made an
effort to smile, but that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.   “You now what was great about today?” he
said to me.
    “What?”
    “Whenever things got tough, I just
thought of you, and everything got easier.”
    “Oh, Alex,” I said.
    “I love you, Jennifer.”
    “I love you more.   You’ve been in my thoughts all day.”
    We kissed deeply for a moment, and
I nuzzled my head into his chest.   I
had a million questions I wanted to ask him, but now wasn’t the time.   Now, I needed to take care of my
husband.   When he wanted to talk, it
would be at his own pace, and I’d be there to listen to him.   That’s what my man needed now.   Still, to show him that I cared, I at
least had to open with an offering.
    “Do you want to talk about any of
it?” I asked.
    “I’d like to discuss a few things
with you, but how about if we have a drink first?”
    “Martini?”
    “Please.”
    “Take off your jacket.   Sit in the living room.   Give me a few minutes, and I’ll make you
the best martini this girl can make.”
    “That’s going to be a pretty sweet
martini,” he said.
    “Given the day you’ve had, let’s
just say that I plan on going light on the vermouth.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    A few minutes later, I returned
with our drinks, handed him one, and sat next to him on one of the white
sofas.   Beyond the windows to our
left, Manhattan was still bright with sunlight.   Though with day’s end at hand, shadows
were beginning to stretch across the city and encroach into our apartment.
    “You can say nothing or anything,”
I said.   “I’m only here to support
you.   If you’d like, we can just sit
in silence, or chat about my time at Barneys with Blackwell—which was
kind of epic—or watch a bit of television before we get ready for
tonight.   Whatever you want.”   I lifted my glass to his.   “But first, here’s to us.”
    He touched glasses with me, and
each of us drank.
    “Let’s talk about your day,” he
said.   “Did you and Blackwell have
any success?”
    “We did.   And it was as adventurous as it always
is with her, though not in ways that I’ll bore you with now.   Let’s just say that she was
right—black was the wrong message to send tonight.   I now have a lovely new red dress that will
send the correct message.   Oh, and