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“And, perish the thought, but should some form of violence become necessary in the course of this meanderingshitshow, could you handle that?”
“Anytime, anywhere, boss. I can take care of them.”
Vincent reached up to pat him on the shoulder. “I have absolute confidence that you can. In the meantime, if it’s little Raven he’s run to for help, shall we perhaps encourage her generosity?”
Curt caught on quickly. “Like a down payment?”
“A security deposit, let’s say. A way of persuading us not to perform surgery on Mr. Samuelson without anesthetic.” Vincent mimed a knife running down his chest, from neck to balls.
Curt smiled. “No one wants that.”
“I suspect you’re right,” he agreed, and then his smile became a murderous sneer. “But let’s find out.”
Pendale, TX
Wednesday Evening
Raven warily eyedthe last slice of pepperoni pizza, but decided against it, tossing the box in the fridge.
“I’ll help, sis,” Hank said, rising to wipe down the little living room table and run a vacuum over the floor. “I suspect Mr. Dawson likes to keep a tidy home.”
Raven finished the brief chores and sat down, yet again, in front of the TV. “He’s not OCD, or something, just neat.”
Hank shrugged. “Sure. Lot of military guys are like that.”
“He’s out of the military now,” she explained. “He was injured.” Hank ignored her, focusing onJeopardy. “In combat,” she added pointedly.
“He wastherefor combat, Raven. He knew the risks. What isThelma & Louise?”
“Huh?”
“Are you not watching this?” he asked. This had been his favorite show since childhood.
“Not really. Did Ridge say when he would be back?”
Hank shook his head, then ladled on the Austrian accent and intoned, “‘I’ll be back.’ That’s all he said.”
Raven threw a cushion at him. “He’s not some robot, you know. He’s actually pretty cool.”
Hank muted the commercial break and turned to his sister. “Hismusclesare pretty cool. His ever-so-handsome face and his nice lifestyle are pretty cool, right? But I wouldn’t say he’s been all that cool tome.”
She explained for the sixth time. “If you hadn’thitme, he’d be much nicer. He’s got a real problem with violence.”
“Hah!” he laughed derisively. “A martial-arts-expert-Navy-SEAL with a Buddhist streak! Give me a break!”
“Violence againstwomen, I meant.” She was running out of cushions to throw. “You can imagine that, right?”
“I can imagine him being pretty screwed up by the ‘War on Terror,’” he said, hand-quotes cynically aloft, “that’swhat I can imagine. I’ve seen those commercials about the soldiers who come back with PTSD or something. You said it yourself, he was injured. He’s got hate issues; he’s there thinking, ‘If you live an alternative lifestyle, you’re just like the terrorists.’”
Raven folded her arms, for twenty years her signal that Hank had upset her. “You don’t knowshit,” was her accusation, followed by the last cushion, thrown hard at his head.
“OK, OK. I get it. Raven’s in love and won’t hear a thing against him.”
“He gave you aroofover your head, you ungrateful turd. And you see that car out front?” Hank hadn’t noticed, and flicked the curtains briefly to check. “That’s an off-duty fireman, a friend of Ridge’s, and he’s keeping an eye on us while Ridge’s out. Do youget itnow?”
“Wow,” Hank allowed. “Like having a bodyguard.”
“It really isn’t foryou, if you must know, but Ridge is the only thing between your cocaine-snorting friends and your sorry ass. So just remember that.” She re-folded her arms and glared atJeopardy, which was reaching its final stages. “What isGreat Expectations?”
