Safe is Just a Word

Eli and his wife were enjoying their dinner at the restaurant as I made my way through their home. I quickly swapped out the keyboard, spending a moment to look it over carefully to see if there were any new dings or scratches that I'd have to emulate on the replacement. Opening the safe was child's play. Before doing anything else, I took a photo of the open safe. I then pulled everything out, one by one and took more photos. He had gold coins, cash, jewelry and lots of paperwork. After putting everything back, I referred to the original photo to ensure that everything was in its exact original position and left.

My casing the building and breaking in took place when I should have been eating and spending time with Michael, and that pissed me off. Unfortunately, I couldn't dictate when both Eli and his wife would be out. I had to go by their schedule.

I paused at the door before leaving and looked around. They really did have a nice place. Not too homey, though. It felt sort of sterile.

When I pulled into the parking lot for the gym the next day I had to grit my teeth. Jerry walked over to the car and just stood there.

"Morning, Jerry."

"Morning."

"Jerry, you don't have to walk me to and from the building every day."

"Yeah, I know. I was just out stretching my legs and thought I'd come over and say hi."

"Every day, Jerry? That's a mighty big coincidence."

"I... Look, I should have been there. That's my job. I don't have to do much but look after people and the building and you had to call me, and..."

"Fuck, Jerry, you were there to open at 5:30 that morning. We don't expect you to work 15 hour days."

"Yeah, but if anything happened..."

"Nothing happened, Jerry. Nothing! Stop hovering. I'm not some damned victim!"

"Okay. Sure. Sorry."

He looked like I'd kicked his puppy before he turned and walked away. I felt like a total shit.

Going inside I went to the locker room to change. I thought about what went down and why I'd reacted that way to a sweet guy like Jerry. Yuri had been gone the next day. Mrs. Cruz put me in touch with her nephew Nicky Tremaine. In turn, he put me in touch with his friend Angie, the model turned reporter.

She flew out to meet me and we spent two days getting to know one another. Angie also spent a great deal of time talking to Adam and the two women fighters. She wanted to make this bigger than Yuri and thought there might be a larger story about systemic sexism in MMA. I was surprised that she was sort of able to hop on a plane at a whim and choose her own assignments, but I found out that she was married to some tech billionaire and used his jet.

My day was intense. I had four clients almost back to back. When I was done I stopped at the juice bar and got a mango-strawberry and a salad with chicken breast. As I was leaving I stopped and handed them to Jerry.

"Hey, I didn't mean to flip-out on you this morning. It's just... I want to put it in the rearview mirror, you know? I truly appreciate you being you, Jerry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh, well, thanks, but I shouldn't have..."

"Yes, you should have. Because you're a good person, a good friend and you're good at your job. This was on me, not you. I've got to get going. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks for supper."

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

The next week I was back at the condos. I watched as the car took Eli's wife away to meet him at the restaurant and then headed in with another pizza box.

The doorman looked up and smiled. "Kutchens?"

"Kutchens."

I was slower and more methodical this trip. Art isn't my thing, but I had friends who were knowledgeable. I took multiple photos of every painting in the condo. I checked for second safes. Looking for security cameras again turned up nothing, but I would have that absence confirmed when I went over his data from the key-logger.

After swapping out the keyboards, I opened the safe again. As I checked the back of his watches for inscriptions I heard the door open and a loud voice.

"You stupid fucking cow!"

A softer, tremulous voice responded. "E... Eli, I... I'll get it cleaned. I'll buy a new one from my own money, not the house money."

"Are you an idiot? Answer me, did I marry an idiot? It's not the money and it's not the shirt! I looked like a buffoon! I'm sitting there in front of prospective clients with a wine-soaked shirt and you're staring at me with your fat fucking face like you can't wait for your meal. Was that it? Was I interrupting your dinner, cow?"

"No, no, I..."

There was a meaty thud and the sound of someone slamming into something. I reached behind me and put my hand on the holster.

There was another thud and I was about to just give up and stop whatever was going on when a door slammed. There was muffled crying and Eli kept ranting about how she made him hit her, how it was her fault and it was always her fault. He just didn't understand why she always provoked him. His voice was distinct while her crying wasn't, so I assumed that she locked herself in a room.

"Stay in there, bitch. Stay in there and think about what the hell is wrong with you. I take you to the best restaurant in town. Is it too much to hope that my wife doesn't embarrass me? Did you lock this door? I don't care where the fuck you sleep, but when I'm ready to go to bed this door better be unlocked, you understand me?"

Thinking quickly, I closed the safe, dashed over to the glass door, slid it open and moved onto the balcony. I could hear him mumbling to himself and pacing as I stayed out of sight, seven stories up and no way to get to the front door.

I'd been out there for 40 minutes. As grateful as I was that it was a warm night, it was growing increasingly uncomfortable. It was some odd anti-claustrophobia. I just wanted to be gone and the wide-open space in front of me was freaking me out. On top of it all, my phone wouldn't stop vibrating.

Huddled in the corner of the balcony, I checked it quickly. It was Michael and he had called six times in 10 minutes. I texted him back.

Kinda in the middle of something. I'll call later.

This was crazy. Eli smoked cigars. What if he came out for one while I was sitting here? Would I have to shoot him? That wasn't part of the plan. I looked over the railway and down the seven floors. Not good. The neighbors below him had a patio table on their balcony.

Inaction was a serious problem. Crawling over the railing, I lowered myself down to the base of Eli's balcony. Holding myself there for a moment, roughly 60 feet in the air, I offered a silent prayer. Hoping the table would hold my weight, I swung myself out slightly and launched into the balcony below me. Standing on the table as it teetered, I felt myself falling backward. Lunging toward the door, I inadvertently kicked the table into the railing, making a racket.

Scampering to the corner, I waited and caught my breath and flexed my ankle. I'd landed hard. There was some pain, but it didn't feel serious. My side was a little stiff and I concentrated on breathing quietly but deeply. There was no noise from the condo while I tried to figure out what I would do when the owner checked his balcony. No one came.

"Are you okay?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin and turned. There was a little boy on another balcony about 10 feet away. He had some superhero figures he was playing with and was wearing pajamas. I would have thought he was the cutest kid ever if he hadn't just scared the crap out of me.

Holding my finger in front of my lips in the universal signal for 'shhhhh', I looked at the rest of the balcony. He was alone.

"Yeah, just perfect. Is that Captain America?"

"Uh-huh. He's fighting Batman. Are you Catwoman?"

"Um. Yes. Batman dropped me off on the roof."

"Okay. Can you tell him I said hi?"

"Sure. I'll call him tomorrow. What's your name?"

"Bobby."

"Okay, Bobby, but this has to be a secret. You know Batman has secrets, right? Like his secret name or ID or whatever? So, if you promise to keep this a secret, I'll tell Batman you said hi."

"I'm a good secret keeper."

"I'm sure you are, Bobby."

The condominium was dark and no one investigated the noise, so I opened the door and went in. I was through and at their front door faster than I would have thought possible and was hoping not to be seen as I waited for the elevator.

Getting down to the main floor, I exited while trying to look calm and collected.

Driving home, I had to pull over at the park and stop for a moment. My hands were still shaking and I couldn't stop thinking about what went through my mind as I hung off the balcony. What if Michael had to claim my body at the morgue? How was any of this fair to him? Why was I pursuing this instead of just living my life with the man I love?

It took me five minutes to get going again. I parked, checked myself out in the mirror and grabbed the keyboard. Walking through the door, I plastered a smile on my face.

"Hey, I'm back! What was up with the phone calls?"

"That reporter, Angie? She needed to talk to you but she was calling from the airport. She wanted to see you tomorrow, but if you weren't available she was going to Amsterdam. It seemed like she needed a quick answer. Sorry."

"Oh, no problem. What did you tell her?"

"That I didn't know. She said she'd try to Zoom with you tomorrow."

"Okay, great. You guys talk for a while?"

"No. Just a couple of minutes."

"Did you tell her she was your favorite reporter?"

He laughed. "No."

"Did you tell her you still have her Sports Illustrated issue?"

"No, I told her I tossed it out since I have my own supermodel."

I heard his voice growing closer as he entered the kitchen and marveled at how I still felt those goosebumps as I saw him round the corner. Biting my lower lip, I smiled at the look in his eyes.

"Supermodel?"

Michael picked me up and I sat on the counter. "Yeah, supermodel." He leaned in and our lips met.

He didn't make me feel like a supermodel. He made me feel more like a treasure, like a work of art, like something of far more value. He didn't treat me like I thought he might treat a supermodel; the way he touched me wasn't just about attraction and physical desire. It was tender. It was love, absolute love.

I tried to shake the guilt as he held me, tried to let my mind wander free of the day's events as he kissed down my neck and pawed under my shirt. As hard as I tried, he still seemed to notice there was something weighing me down. His hands left my breasts and he pulled his lips away from my skin to look up at me.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. I could almost see them as his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. Given how shaken I was, I couldn't let him ask. I couldn't trust myself enough not to break down.

Instead, I took control: I pulled Michael towards me and kissed him unexpectedly, shifting forward on the counter so his body was tight against mine. He inhaled gently, a soft noise of surprise, but his hands wrapped back around my body.

"Take me to bed," I said firmly.

His smile brushed against my lips. "As you wish."

He didn't quite take me to bed; I took him there. Once we were in our bedroom, I couldn't get enough of him. I needed his touch, I craved it, I needed his arms around me and his lips against me and his body inside mine. At first, he didn't quite let me take control of him. His teeth grazed my lip in response to me nipping at his, then sunk teasingly into my shoulder as he ran his hands along my body. I whimpered and tugged at his shirt, my eyes flashing when he looked at me playfully.

"I need you," I said.

"Me too," he replied. "Always."

It was passion at its very core: even his general neat-freak side couldn't break through the cloud of persistent longing between us. Clothes fell to the floor, strewn across the edge of the bed as we tore them from each other. When we were both naked, he directed me to the bed but acquiesced to me as I pushed him on his back.

When I sank down on him, we both sighed, and strong hands gripped my waist as I moved on top of him. I glanced down to see him looking up at me, his eyes dark with lust and shining with love. Our eyes met and he smiled, just a little, just enough that his adoration of me shone through.

The guilt of that wracked through me, and I closed my eyes.

Even without seeing him, I could feel every bit of his love. It was in his hands as they ran along my body, in the noises he made as I rode him, in the way his hips strained up to meet mine until it wasn't so much me bouncing on top of him as it was him thrusting up into me. I started in control and had to relinquish it as he pulled me closer to him, kissing me as he took over, driving himself up against my body.

There was nowhere in the world that was safer than Michael's arms. He didn't know it, but I needed that safety. I needed his love more than anything.

When I came, he clutched me tightly; when he came, he was still holding me like I was his life preserver, like he thought I might float away if he let go. Even as we caught our breaths, he held me, he touched me, he kissed me and made me feel more cherished than any of the treasured tchotchkes Eli Martinez kept in his safe.

I buried my face against Michael's shoulder, guilt battling with gratitude for the man who loved me.

He was sleeping on his side and I lay facing him, my hand on his chest feeling his heartbeat. I was tired and satiated and felt love, but I couldn't shake the question of why wasn't this enough? Did Dad struggle with this? Were there times when he wondered why he kept on, why he risked everything? I knew it was selfish. I also knew that I wasn't strong enough to stop before it was done.

Something very deep inside of me refused to let them get away with what they had done. They had stripped my father from his child so I was going to go after their children. Karma was being lazy but I was on the job.

Up early, I stopped and grabbed some breakfast burritos from Mookies. I had no idea why they needed to tell me that they didn't serve Dr. Pepper at seven in the morning, but I smiled, thanked them, and left with my bag. I gave it to Jerry when I got to the gym.

"We good?"

He smiled. "We're good."

Four clients and five hours later I was out again, this time headed to the storage unit. I sat there enjoying the aroma of the oils used on the tools and the hinges on the safes. It smelled like Dad's old shop and reminded me of him. I finally opened up the EON15-X laptop and got down to business. The key-logger had worked like a pro. It took me five hours to get most of what I needed, but it was good stuff. Very, very good stuff.

Eli had been securing money offshore and there was more than what could be accounted for from his job. He was either running a scam himself or it was some of his father's money. Either way, I was happy.

Yoenis "Shorty" Dominguiz was a thin tall fence out of Denver that I had an arrangement with. He would buy safes from questionable sources and I would open them for him. We worked together maybe two or three times a year. I gave him a call and in return, he made some calls. I soon had what I needed.

I shouldn't have been there. I knew that. It was unprofessional and put me at risk. I just couldn't resist watching each domino as they fell. My sunglasses and hoodie on, I sipped an unsweetened tea through the straw from 10 feet away as Shorty's colleague thrust the FedEx bag into Eli's hands.

"Here ya go, Mr. Connely."

"Connely? Get off of me. I'm not Connely."

With a disgusted look, he thrust the envelope back towards the man.

"Yeah, tough guy? Turn it over and look at the label."

He did.

"It says Connely. I just told you I'm not Connely!"

"You ain't Connely? Shit, my bad. Sorry."

Eli never noticed when the man took the envelope back with his sleeves covering his hands.

A few days later I had the envelope in my possession. I watched Eli and his wife the next Thursday. I wasn't sure if they would return to their regular routine, but it seems as if he was a man of habits. I had another week to get ready.

I couldn't figure out how to get into the records of St. Mary Corwin's Hospital so I had to approach things from another direction. I had a friend call them. She worked for Hartford Insurance and she convinced them that they needed Eli's wife's information for billing. She'd been there for X-rays and one CT scan four times in the past year.

I knew it hadn't been an isolated incident, but I had to have confirmation.

Shorty helped me make the purchases. Thursday afternoon, I made my move. I had no idea why they thought that simply having levels of a parking garage dedicated to different companies was a security precaution. Yes, I couldn't use the elevator and get off on the right level without a keycard, but that didn't prevent me from just walking to the parking level I needed. A simple appointment with an allergist who had an office on the top floor got me past the parking security on the first-floor entrance. This was my third appointment and I used the first two to sort out the cameras. I knew where they were and how to avoid them.

I parked on the top floor, waited until there was no traffic, and then walked down to the next floor. I repeated the process to get to the floor that Eli's company used and found where he parked.

Getting into Eli's car was a joke. People had no idea how vulnerable they really were. I slipped what Shorty helped me purchase under the seat, relocked the car, and left. I went into the doctor's office, canceled the appointment, got in my car, and left.

Walking into the building the doorman didn't even question me. I just lifted the pizza box in his direction and gave him a little wave. He smiled and went back to his newspaper. For some reason, it took three tries to bump his lock, but I was in quickly. I emptied his safe of the cash, watches, men's jewelry, gold coins, and everything else of value.

I left my little surprise, including the envelope stuffed with drugs that had his fingerprints all over it, and closed the safe.

"Buon appetito, Eli."

I left and got in the elevator. It stopped one floor down and a teenager and two adults got on.

"Hey! You're the lady with the gun range, right? Mom, she and her husband owns the place that's going to be the paintball arena!"

Oh, fuck.

I recognized the woman she was with. Liz Armigido was one of the most powerful lawyers in Pueblo. I might need to hire her soon.

I stuck out my hand. "Hi. Sondra."

She smiled. "Hi. Liz. This is my husband, Scott Billings."

He shook my hand as well and I realized that I knew him as well. He used to be married to a famous golfer. Small fucking world.

"Nice to meet you all. Your daughter seems to be a big help. My husband speaks very highly of her."

Liz put her arm around the girl's shoulder and gave her a side hug. "We're very proud of her. So, you live here?"

"No... Um, money's a little tight, so I'm delivering pizzas to help out a bit. It's... it's sort of embarrassing. If you could keep that to yourself I'd appreciate it."

"Of course. There's no need to be embarrassed, but we'll respect your privacy."

"Thanks."

I nodded quickly at the doorman while adjusting my ball cap with the hand closest to him. I left and once I was a few blocks away I used my burner phone to call the cops and play the recording I'd had help preparing.

"Eli Martinez has been dealing drugs in Pueblo for more than six months to make up for shortages from bad investments for clients. He fucked my mother-in-law out of her retirement. He's at Rio Bistro now. He drives a dark blue, used Mercedes Maybach.