Safe is Just a Word

"We can get something better and put those out when Mom comes over."

I looked up at Michael and saw him watching me fiddle with the peppermill and napkin holder. Trying to smile, I held his gaze. "No, I love them. I was just... thinking."

I watched my husband as he brought in the dishes from the grill. Wherever he was in a room my eyes would find him of their own volition as if he had a gravity that only I was pulled to. He saw me watching him and stopped for a moment holding a platter. He smiled at me, quietly amused that I enjoyed gazing at him. Michael always insisted that he was lucky to be with me.

The truth was that I was the lucky one.

"Can you grab the iced tea?"

Shaking my head sadly, I got up. He shouldn't have had to ask. While I was sitting at the table plotting what might put our lives together in danger, he was making us dinner.

"Of course."

We ate and I pushed everything other than Michael from my mind. "Tell me about your day."

"I hired someone new."

"Really? Can we afford that?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. If he did it, we could afford it. Michael was the reasonable one, the partner that was steady, logical and planned everything out. More importantly, within a month I would have most of Eli's money.

"Yeah, it's a kid and it's only about 15 hours a week. He seems nice and he's... I don't know, enthusiastic. His mother owns the horse rehabilitation ranch next door to the range."

Next door was a bit of a misnomer. We owned over 80 acres of land outside of town and the Archer Ranch could barely be seen from the shooting range. Michael had plans to build a huge outdoor paintball facility to go along with the range.

"He's Penny's kid?"

"Yup. He's totally into the paintball idea. They used this graphics program to plot out the land and where obstacles should go. Him and his girlfriend. I tried telling him not to do anything unless he's on the clock, but... Yeah, try telling that to a 15-year-old when they're excited. He wants to set things up with themes, like a course built on Greek mythology and stuff."

"Well, I guess there're a lot worse things a 15-year-old could be doing."

"True. I'm thinking we might have to split the property. We'd have to pay taxes on both, but if they are separate lots it might save us on liability issues with the insurance."

"Okay. I mean, the range faces the other direction and they are so far away from each other that it's ridiculous, but if it'll save money and help with liability, sure."

We talked about the rest of his day and then a bit about Dad. Michael kept touching me as we cleaned up the kitchen: a slight brushing by as he moved to the sink, a hand on my back, leaning into me gently as he put a dish in the dishwasher. I thrilled at every moment of contact, regardless of how fleeting it was.

After closing the dishwasher, I turned, pulled his head down and let my lips meet his. Snaking my arms around his neck, I held him there. When we eventually broke contact, he lightly slapped me on the ass.

"You better get going if you're going to get your run in."

"Wanna go with me?"

"Yeah, but I can't. I need to get some paperwork done and into the state by the end of the week. I'm gonna knuckle down and get to work."

Reaching up, I kissed him again. "Okay. Be back in a couple."

It was a perfect evening for running. The humidity was low and the temperature was in the 70s. After stretching and warming up, I did three miles. It wasn't my normal, but I had other things to do. After his sentencing, Mom closed up Dad's shop and sold most of his equipment. She didn't know about the storage unit. He'd prepaid for three years and I picked up the rent after that.

Pueblo Self Storage had nine-foot fences topped with barbed wire and seemingly endless units. I parked and went to ours. It's a little weird that I didn't think of it as mine by that point, but it still resounded with impressions of my father. I felt closest to him and who he was here, even more than I had at our childhood home or the prison where the man as he became was incarcerated.

Located off I25, their boat and RV storage helped keep the block our unit was in out of sight. That wasn't a major concern, but I was happy to take whatever ancillary benefits I could. Once I was sure that no one was looking, I went over, unlocked the door, rolled it up, stepped in, and closed it. He'd had two lights swinging free in the middle of the unit and I'd stepped up his efforts.

We had row upon row of safes and a number of tables with just stripped-down lock mechanisms. Gardall, NEXT, Hollon, Rhino; all major brands were represented. I stayed up to date on new developments and innovations and kept my skills honed. Running my fingers along the cool metal, I thought of Dad. For years I'd wondered about his obsessions and was angered by how he valued jobs, the grift, and adrenaline over his family.

Thinking of Michael and what we had, my anger at Dad dissipated. I was his daughter and I was just like him. I craved vengeance. I needed to get revenge on the people that betrayed him.

And I needed it in spite of how it might take me away from the man I loved.

Showing up at the range Thursday morning, I helped Michael as much as possible and got some firing time in. He had some guys with earth-moving equipment in and they were doing stuff out back for the paintball. I watched them for a bit before going back inside. I sold a Glock 43 to a woman who was concerned about the size of her hands and set her up with a six-month membership.

Michael came out to the storefront, noise-cancelling headphones around his neck. He gestured out back.

"Those guys? We're swapping. They get 90-day memberships and I get them fixing stuff up for the fields."

I smiled. "Great!"

"Yeah. Costs us nothing, really. I'm not even sure if they would have joined otherwise."

"Sure. Sounds perfect." Did he think I was concerned about the money? He had to know I trusted him.

I met Jason, the kid who was so excited about the paintball. He introduced me to another teenager as his girlfriend and she seemed to beam. They insisted that I look over their plans for fields and although they were thorough and amazingly detailed, they seemed a bit ambitious. Smiling and nodding, I made a mental note to talk to Michael.

The four of us had lunch together, the kids still going on and on about paintball. I kissed Michael, headed off, did some grocery shopping and parked downtown. Standing half a block from the condos, I waited and then waited some more. After finally seeing a college-age kid approaching the building with a pizza, I ran up.

"Glad I made it in time! That mine?"

"You..." He checked his slip. "Maggie Kutchens, 307b?"

"Yup." I handed him two twenties. "You're the best. Have a good one."

Taking the pizza, I walked into the building and saw the doorman. "Pizza for Kutchens, 307b."

Eli lived in 704. It was a double-sized condo, doing away with the need for a letter designation. He was too good for such mundane things as smaller living spaces. It's amazing what you can find if you know where to look. I knew which condo was his, I'd gotten floor plans from the city when he wanted structural renovations and I knew that his closest neighbor always summered in New York, probably in the Hamptons.

I delivered the pie, made back $25 of my money, and went up to the seventh floor. Once the elevator doors opened it took me less than 30 seconds to get to Eli's door. I had a set of bump keys that I'd filed down myself. I was prepared for Schlage, Kwikset, Baldwin Signature, and most other lock brands. If it wasn't some high-end eastern European or Asian lock, I was set.

I'd been bumping locks since I was 12. Dad would take me on house calls when I wasn't at school. We'd have lunch and he'd use it as an opportunity to talk, to really talk. We discussed everything. Our conversations ranged from my grades to where he wanted to retire with Mom. When we were helping some man get back in his house or an old lady change her locks, Dad would explain what he was doing and why he was doing it. I'd help as much as possible and he was always scrupulous with the money. If we were together, I'd get half of the pay for that job, which was ridiculous but I didn't know that at the time.

He also used the customers to teach me more than just how to manipulate locks. If we were offered food or something to drink, we always accepted but made sure it was modest. If there were a plate of cookies, we'd take two each. If soda or water were offered, we took water. It was important to him that we never insulted anyone's hospitality.

I learned how my father thought during those days. We always did what we were paid to do, but if the person was nice, we were happy to do something extra. He'd offer advice on security or help someone carry in groceries or just chat if the person was lonely. If, on the other hand, the person treated us poorly or was cruel when we could see it, we did the job and left and Dad kept a record of who we wouldn't work with a second time.

This carried over to his second job. Dad never stole from anyone that was struggling, and he ensured that his victims were people who would normally go on our list of people we wouldn't work for. Basically, he had a weird code. He stole from rich assholes.

As I'd guessed, the lock on Eli's door was a Schlage. I inserted the key, pulled it back to the first notch, twisted it slightly, and then rapped it with the sap I kept on me. Nothing. Shit. I went through the process again and it worked. Pulling my sleeve down over my hand, I opened the door, stepped in, and closed it behind me.

I took a minute to slip on some nitrile gloves and then a second pair over the first. Finding his office was quick and easy. My top priority was getting a look at Eli's keyboard. I took three photos, turned it over, and took another three. Finding his safe was simple. He had it put behind a painting like he was living in a bad movie from the 70s.

The safe itself was an interesting choice. It was a Mesa, which was uncommon. Not cheap, but not too expensive either. His concern seemed to be more for heat protection in case of fire than theft, but it did a good job for both. An amateur wouldn't have an easy go of it. I took some more photos and then checked for cameras and video feed. There were none that I could see and I'm pretty good. I'd check again once I had control of his computer.

I got the hell out of there, went back down to the first floor, gave the doorman a small wave and finally relaxed as I was driving home.

Michael was still on the computer when I got in.

"Good run? Get the heart rate up?"

I laughed to myself. "Yeah, definitely did that."

"I'm doing the bills. Any clients owe you?"

"Nope, everyone's up to date." I was lucky and I knew it. Many personal trainers had serious billable issues with clients whose payment was always 'next week, I promise.'

I grabbed my laptop and went into the living room. Booting up off of a DVD running TAILS I used a secure browser and VPN; you can't be too careful. If my laptop were ever seized for evidence then nothing would be found. And putting a DVD in a laptop was innocent enough that Michael would never notice anything.

I accessed the photos of the keyboard and visited some sites that most people would consider sketchy. Within a few minutes I had the make and model number of Eli's keyboard. Within 45 minutes I'd arranged to have an exact duplicate set up with a key-logger. I used the gym address and paid.

The next few days were spent helping at the range, listening to the kids discuss their big plans for the paintball, working with Mesa safes, and getting time in with clients. Alex had been working with a European guy and two women, all of whom were MMA fighters. I'd been helping Alex's brother with kettlebells and the ellipticals. He was in high school but boxed in the Golden Gloves.

Heading over to my bag, the new guy stood there holding my water.

"What is your name, pretty lady?"

I stared at him for a second. "Please put my bottle down."

He held it out. "I'll trade you the bottle for your name. It must be beautiful to match a woman like you."

"You're going to try to bargain with something that already belongs to me? Keep it. I'll use the water fountain."

This guy had been alone with my water. I wasn't going to touch it. I drank my fill and went back to finish up my own workout.

Alex checked with me before he left and the two women and I entered the locker rooms. We were the last people in the gym and I had keys to the place, so I could lock up.

I chatted with the women as we got changed and set up an appointment with one to work on her cardio. I listened as they spoke to each other. They tried to include me in their conversation and I smiled and answered what questions I could, but I was mostly lost. I had no idea what a 10-9 Must system was or the best way to pass a rubber guard.

The one I was going to work with turned to the other. "How long is Yuri going to be here?"

"I don't know. He can't leave soon enough. I think he's moving to Team Alpha for a few weeks. That guy totally gives me the creeps.

They left and I did a quick look-through of the locker room, picked up a few towels and was about to head out when the MMA guy walked in. I'd thought he'd left with Alex and he shocked the hell out of me.

Immediately stepping back, I called out. "Wrong locker room! This is for the ladies."

"Yes. I am for ladies too. I think it is good, yes?"

What the fucking fuck?

"What I think is that you need to get the hell out of here. Now!"

"Come on now. You are friendly girl. You like fighters, yes? I hear this thing. You work with them, you close to them, you... I don't know the words. I am fighter." He moved closer to me. "I am very, very good."

"I'm not going to tell you again. Get the hell out of here!"

"I am harmless to you. We just get to know each other. I would never harm you, but I know many ways to kill a man and many ways to please a woman. This is something you can feel, yes?"

I had my hand in my purse. "I don't know many ways to kill a man. Just one."

The click was audible as I flicked off the safety on the Kimber. I let the purse fall to the floor. When he looked down to see it fall he saw the gun in my hand.

"Get. Out. Now!"

He was quiet for a moment, staring at me as a small grin burst on his face like an overripe fruit. "You are not serious."

I lifted the gun. "Take another step and we'll find out. I'll put one center of mass and then a second into your groin for the hell of it."

Still staring like I was a puzzle to figure out, he finally shrugged. "Okay. There are other women. True women who appreciate Yuri."

He turned to leave and I sat back on a bench and shook. After my breathing slowed, I called Jerry, the guy who was in charge of security for the gym. He came down and escorted me to my car. He wanted me to call the cops. I probably should have. Instead, I went home and called Adam and Michael.

Michael got to the house first and he must have made record time. I explained what happened.

"Just kept moving towards you? In the women's locker room?"

"Yeah."

He took a deep breath. "Okay, we can deal with all the other shit later." Michael pulled his chair closer to me and took my hands. "Are you alright? How are you... I don't know, handling this?"

"I'm okay. I had a huge adrenaline dump right after, but I'm okay now."

"I... Sure. I didn't mean physically. Are you okay?"

Honestly, I didn't know. I forced myself to smile. "It'll be a little strange for a bit, but I'll be okay. It's weird, I'm more freaked out about almost having to kill someone than I am about what he wanted to do to me."

Standing, my bear of a husband leaned over and hugged me. He wouldn't let me go and I felt his tears on my neck.

"Shhh, shhh, c'mon, I'm fine. Really. I'm fine."

He straightened up and wiped away the tears. "So, when these MMA people come to town, where do they stay? A hotel or they rent a house or something?"

"Michael. Michael..." I sighed. "We're not doing this.

There was a hard darkness to his gaze as I searched for the kindness and rationality that defined my husband.

"I'm okay. Adam is on his way over. We'll talk to the cops if we have to." I wasn't getting through. "Look at me. Michael, look at me. If I wanted something to happen to him, I would have shot him. You going over there and shooting him for me means my choice was meaningless. I understand where you're coming from, but we're not doing this."

He slowly gave me a small smile and sat down again. "I didn't say a word. Am I that obvious?"

"Yes." I said it with as much love as I could muster.

Adam and Ilse came by and I explained everything. They were irate but hesitantly solicitous. Adam kept clenching and unclenching his fists and Ilse looked like she constantly wanted to pop up and hug me.

After a moment of seemingly searching for the right words, Adam spoke. "So, you don't want to talk to the cops? I'm not saying you have to. I mean, obviously. It's your choice, but... maybe you should? Again, totally your choice."

"Is it... He came to town to work with you on his wrestling. This is your business. If it came out that..."

"Oh, my God. Sondra, are you worried about me? Me!? Everyone in the community is going to know about this by tonight. It's not going to impact me at all and even if it did... Sondra, do you really think I care about that? If you want me to keep my mouth shut, I will, but I plan on letting every single person I can know what happened. You would be and are enough, but I have a wife and two sisters and a mom and all those women he's going to see tomorrow and next week and the rest of his life and... Please tell me you weren't going to keep quiet because of how you thought this would roll out for my business."

"Well, I... alright. Maybe we should talk to the cops."

The police were polite and patient but it seemed that there wasn't much they could do. They discussed menacing or harassment charges, but they weren't very enthusiastic. They did say that they would talk to Yuri and I got the feeling it wasn't going to be a friendly conversation.

Alex and Ilse left to get back to their daughter and Michael got me some tea.

"Really, honey, I'm fine."

"Okay. I've been thinking, you know those softball games out by the range? The one with the farms and ranches?"

"Yeah."

"That lady who comes down to see her nephews? Cruz? Jane Cruz or Jennifer Cruz? Doesn't she have another nephew she's always talking about? Used to be one of those extreme sports guys and he works for ESPN?"

"Right. Did the X-Games, sure."

"Well, maybe she could reach out for us. You could talk to this guy and he could look into it or something. Or maybe he knows someone who could. Isn't he friends with that reporter that used to be a model?"

"Oh, now I know why you're remembering this." I'd seen him Googling the woman. She was pretty stunning. She looked like a Valkyrie or female Viking or something.

He actually blushed. "No, she's just a good reporter. I read her work."

"Yup, sure. And being a former Sports Illustrated model doesn't hurt."

"Um, no. I guess it doesn't. You want to reach out?"

"Tomorrow, babe. Take me to bed, okay? I just want to be close to you."

This time I stopped for the pizza on my way to Eli's building. I again wore bulky clothes and a ballcap to screw with any cameras. Walking into the building, I waved at the door guy.

"Kutchens, 307b."

"Gotcha."

I didn't want to let anyone in the building get a good look at me, but I also didn't want any questions if the door guy mentioned the pizza to the Kutchens. I delivered it and told them that it was a freebie that we give out on occasion as a promo.