French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

strategically on the corners of both the front porch and the back stoop—if Todd set out for Lynda’s, those cams should catch it. And Jack monitored those particular cameras in real time as much as possible, keeping one or the other on the little TV in his office while he made phone calls, handled e-mail, or worked on billing. He had it set up to monitor at home, too—so when he came home each evening, a little television that perched on top of his big screen stayed tuned to the space between Todd’s yard and Lynda’s. He couldn’t watch it constantly, but he tried to keep an eye on it as much as possible.

“Find anything interesting yet?” Ty had asked.

“Nope, but I’ve got a huge backlog of video and audio to scan.” There was no way to monitor both the outdoor camera and the others, inside the house, at the same time, and inspecting the hours of videotape from inside took a long while, but anytime the cameras caught Todd at home, Jack stopped the fast forward and listened to what the little dickhead had to say. He wasn’t even sure what he was waiting to see or hear, but the guy seemed like such a nutcase, Jack figured he might start talking to himself—or even someone else—about any plans he had that included Liz. So far, that, too, had turned up nothing, but as he’d told Ty, he was way behind in viewing the tapes, hence his decision to spend Friday night in the office.

“Well, dude, I’m gonna hit the streets and look for some fun. You want to try to hook up later?”

Fun was the last thing on Jack’s mind these days. “No, I’ll still be workin’.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play.”

Jack couldn’t help a short, wry chuckle. “Oui. They make me a dull boy. But that’s too fuckin’ bad right now, ami.”

“Have it your way,” Ty said. “And hey, get some rest. You’re testy as hell.”

“I know. Gotta go now.”

Jack had put his phone away just as he walked through the brick archway leading to Pat O’s courtyard, and he’d no sooner made his way to the outdoor bar than he’d seen Liz, dressed to kill. Speak of the devil. She sat with Lynda at a table in the courtyard looking as sweet and edible as cotton candy in a little pink number that hugged her breasts and showed lots of cleavage. She was drinking a tall hurricane and laughing with her friend.

Seeing her hurt worse than he could have imagined. He’d immediately looked away and that’s when someone had arrived to take his order. While he waited for the food, he was sorely tempted to go over and say hi, to see if maybe, by chance, he saw any sort of emotional spark in her eye, anything that meant she gave a damn about him, but he resisted. Her confection-covered breasts beckoned to him, but that dress also told him she was out to party, and seemed to be getting by just fine without him.

After his order came up and he got his change, he took one last look in her direction, whispered, “Au revoir, chere,” then headed back out onto St. Peter and down to Royal.

And as he’d eaten his dinner and gotten back to scanning video, he felt like a fucking idiot. Because only a fucking idiot would waste every free second of his time trying to protect a woman who didn’t care about him.

It had almost been enough to make him turn off the tape, lock up the office, head up to Club Venus, and do a little partying himself, after all. But, he’d thought cynically, he was as likely to bump into Liz there as anyplace else on Bourbon, so that was a no-go. The deeper truth was—if trying to protect her made him an idiot, then he would just have to be an idiot. Because he wouldn’t stop monitoring Todd until something happened to make him certain Liz was out of harm’s way. Being hurt, even angry, didn’t kill the love inside him. He might wish it did, but it didn’t—sadly, he understood his father’s undying heartache a little better with each passing day.

Now, he still sat there, hours later, remote in hand, slowing the tape when Todd appeared in the picture, speeding it up when he didn’t. Fast forwarding through the days when Todd was at work took a damn long time, but he kept his eye on the screen anyway, and much to his surprise, he suddenly saw Liz come in the front door of the house. He stopped the fast forward, watching as she crossed the room and began loading books in a box.

It made him stop and check the date on the tape. Curiously, it was the day he’d expected to be moving her in with him. And it was just after noon, so she must not have gone to work. He watched in silence for five minutes, ten, and then…Todd walked into the room behind her. But rather than approach her, he sat down in a chair and watched her pack. His silent observation of her sent a chill creeping up Jack’s spine.

When Liz turned and saw Todd, it was clear, even from the odd angle of the camera, that she was startled. And then it happened…Todd started talking to her—and before Jack knew it, Todd was threatening…him.

Jack sat up a little straighter in his chair and watched Liz, the rigid stance she took, the nervousness in her voice, until finally she left—but Jack understood immediately. She hadn’t moved in with him in order to protect him.

Let me get this straight. She’s been trying to protect me while I’ve been trying to protect her? It boggled his mind.

So was that the real reason for her abrupt message about not moving in with him? To Jack, it seemed incomprehensible, but maybe he was forgetting just how afraid of Todd she was. He