Paul reached the park and paused. Away from sidewalk and streetlights, the area was dark and unnerving. A sliver of moon gave off just enough light to let him see a homeless camp under a clump of trees. No one seemed to be around, or they were sleeping, and he was tempted to let Lilly off the leash for a while. He decided against it. His baby was too precious to risk.
Paul jogged around the perimeter a few times, then headed for home. As he passed a section of empty storefronts, a man stepped out from behind a parked car and blocked the sidewalk. The stranger was taller than Paul but thin, like a junkie. With his dark skin and clothes, he blended into the night, a surreal figure. Yet the silver gun in his hand seemed terrifyingly real.
“Just give me yo electronics, then go ’bout yo business.” His voice was low-pitched and casual.
Heart pounding in his ears, Paul stammered, “I don’t have anything with me. I’m just out for a walk.”
The man lurched forward and grabbed Paul by the collar. “I want yo iCom, yo Dock, whatever yo carryin’.” His breath reeked of booze and decay.
Before Paul could respond, Lilly starting barking with a high-pitched intensity. The mugger let go of Paul and gave Lilly a vicious kick. His little girl landed with a soft thud and went silent.
Rage and hatred unlike anything he’d ever felt exploded in Paul’s chest. He bellowed and swung wildly at Lilly’s attacker, landing a glancing blow to the side of the man’s head. The mugger reared back, stunned and angered. He brought up his arm and slammed Paul in the face with his gun. Paul grunted in pain, clutching his nose. The assailant punched him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
Panic flooded his body. Paul felt certain Lilly was dead and he would soon be too. His last sexual encounter with Camille flashed in his mind and he was glad he’d had the experience. His attacker dropped down and straddled Paul, trapping him against the sidewalk. Bony fingers dug through his pockets, looking for loot. Humiliation and rage fought for control of Paul emotions. Yet he was trapped and helpless. He began to pray, something he hadn’t done in a long time.
“Fuck you!” The man spit in his face, outraged that Paul didn’t have anything of value. He pushed off and kicked Paul in the head, then ran away, cursing.
Paul let out a sob, then crawled to where Lilly lay. His baby girl was still alive, but she was broken. Paul picked her up and sprinted for home, blood running from his nose, Lilly limp in his arms. He would grab his keys and drive her to the Union Veterinary Clinic. Maybe they could save her.
Paul called in sick the next day, too grief-stricken to work. He hadn’t mentioned Lilly’s passing to Stacia. She was not the kind of boss who would understand. He opened one of his favorite comfort reads, but couldn’t focus. He watched a talk show on the NetCom and found it irritating. Paul iced his nose for another twenty-minute session and hoped like hell the damage wasn’t permanent.
As the day passed, his grief turned to rage. He fantasized about killing the bastard who’d crushed Lilly with the toe of his boot. He would buy a gun and patrol the neighborhood every evening until he found him. When he spotted the man, he’d rush him and shoot him in the balls. As the bastard lay dying, he would say, That’s what you get for killing my dog.
Paul paced the apartment and occasionally drew his imaginary weapon, pointing at the dark man with the violent streak. Pulling the trigger and saying the words gave him moments of reprieve from his grief. He decided he really did need a gun. Everyone else had one. He wanted to feel safe too. Paul rushed to his NetCom and searched for weapons. Page after page of photos loaded. He knew nothing about guns, and the information was overwhelming. Paul thought he would try a gun shop and get the advice of an expert.
As he perused the pages, he came across a Taser and decided it would come in handy. A few minutes later, his order had been processed. Paul felt better already. He thought he might get another dog someday, but not while his grief was still so raw.
First Isabel, then Lilly. Old feelings of abandonment surfaced, shaking his foundation. He couldn’t lose Camille as well.
Chapter 30
“I have to get going.” Camille threw back the sheet and reached for her clothes.
It was the first time they’d made love in his apartment. The first time any woman had been naked in his home. Paul was still lightheaded from his climax. “Please stay the night. I love having you here.”
“I can’t. I have early plans for the morning.”
“We should spend a Saturday together sometime.” Paul tried to sound casual, but he felt needy and it came through.
“We will, but we have to go slow. Office romances too often end in disaster.” She pulled on her little black dress.
“Maybe one of us should get a different job. Then we could be open about our relationship.” Paul couldn’t believe he’d just suggested it.
“Maybe I should.” She sat on the bed next to him. “Have you had any success getting my file into Thaddeus Morton’s replacement list?”
Paul couldn’t lie to her. “Yes, it’s done and I meant to tell you. I finally found a way to cover my digital tracks.”
“Awesome news! Thank you, Paul.” Camille kissed him on the mouth with just enough pressure to arouse him.
“We should celebrate. Can I see you-?”
“We should get him fired.” Camille chuckled, as if she might have been kidding.
Paul knew she was not. If she’d asked him three months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But since the FBI had sent an agent to question him, he was being more cautious. He hadn’t heard from them since, but they were probably still investigating, still watching the system. He was torn. “I’ll help you if I can. What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Can you do it?” Camille went in search of her shoes.
“It seems risky. He doesn’t have any weaknesses in his personal data.”
“So you’ve looked at his files?” She glanced at him with sly amusement.
“I saw them when I set up the replacement database.”
“Do you snoop, Paul?” Camille grinned. “I would if I had access.”
His face flushed. “I only looked at the commissioner’s files because you were so interested in the position.”
“I really want that job, Paul. I’m perfect for it. I would do a lot more media interviews and programming partnerships. I was meant to network. I’m withering away in this dead-end paperwork position.”
“You should be on camera,” Paul agreed. “You’re beautiful and dynamic.” He thought the job was more complex than she realized, but he wasn’t foolish enough to say it.
“I hear Morton is bisexual, but with a preference for men. Can we use that against him?”
A tingle of excitement ran up Paul’s spine. They were in it together now, a mission to get Morton fired, so Camille could have his job and they could openly be together. “We have to be careful. I can’t hack his message account without drawing the FBI’s attention.”
She scowled. “They’ll never do a serious investigation about something so minor. They’re too busy tracking all the ID thieves and terrorists.”
“Morton is doing a great job and he’s well-respected. Getting him fired won’t be easy.”
She sat on the bed again. “You’ll figure it out. And I will be very grateful.” Camille stroked his penis, giving him another spasm of pleasure.
“Let’s brainstorm tomorrow over dinner at Georgio’s.” Paul wanted to be with her every day.
She shook her head. “I can’t see you again until next weekend. I’ll cook for you at my condo.”
A wave of hurt washed over him. She didn’t want to be seen with him in public. Despite his new nose and chin and beautiful teeth, he still wasn’t good enough for her. “Are you ashamed of me?”