Love Is Always Write Volume 4

and then reached out and hooked his fingers into the front pocket of Bob's jeans. Bob's eyebrows lifted skyward as Jory gave a yank and pulled him into the lift. Before he could comment on the intimate contact or rough treatment, Jory was closing the grate and pressing the button for the ground floor.
    "How do you know my name?" Bob asked.
    Jory spoke without turning around. "'Welcome to Bank of America. How can I help you?'"
    Bob flushed, but he cast his mind back to the hundreds of customers that came into the bank every week. Surely he would have remembered someone like Jory? Wouldn't he? Jory did look familiar, but probably because he had run into him in the apartment building hallways and stairwell more than once. They had never exchanged more than a nod of greeting before today.
    "You're a bank customer?"
    "No, but I've seen you there." The elevator stopped with a lurch and Jory opened the grate before pushing the door open and peering out. "Coast is clear, at the moment. They'll expect us to come down the stairs."
    Bob opened his mouth to ask additional questions, feeling more and more out of control of the situation, but Jory spoke first.
    "Look, if we get separated, I want you to hide Mariah somewhere secure. It's important, okay? And then meet me at Ivar's at the waterfront. I'll wait for you in that caged thingy where people eat outside. You know where that is?"
    "Yeah, but why would we get separated? And you still haven't told me why I shouldn't call the police. Or anything at all."
    Jory drew away from the door and clamped a hand over Bob's mouth. "Shhh. They're out there."
    Bob's heart seemed to hammer into his throat. Jory's hand was warm on his cold face, and it smelled earthy, like old boards. Bob wrinkled his nose at the memory of Jory swinging the board over the chasm. His hands probably were rife with bacteria; Bob probably shouldn't like them pressed against his lips.
    Jory jerked his hand away as if sensing Bob's thoughts. Footsteps sounded beyond the closed portal and then a door slammed down the hall.
    "Come on. They headed upstairs. Most people don't know this door leads to an elevator. Let's go outside and regroup."
    Despite his need for answers, Bob was happy to escape the confining space and the sensation of being trapped. The cold air felt bracing even though it cut through Bob's T-shirt like knife blades. At least he was no longer stuck on a roof.
    "Shit! They must have brought reinforcements. I'll decoy them away. You get Mariah to safety. Hurry! And no police! I'll explain later!" With that, Jory put on a burst of speed and pelted across the street and away. He shouted at two men as he passed them and they immediately gave chase. Remembering the gun in his face, Bob turned the other direction and ran.
    ****
    Sitting on a metal bench outside the designated restaurant, Bob stared at the cluster of seagulls beyond the chain-link and tapped his fingers on his leg impatiently. Jory should at least have given him a specific time to meet. Bob bit his lip, harder than intended, and hoped Jory hadn't been captured. The men had all been large and rough-looking. He wondered what they wanted. Bob had examined the cactus thoroughly, and it had not seemed the slightest bit unusual, except for the shape. It was just a cactus.
    He had debated tossing the damned thing into the nearest dumpster and walking to the police station, but the memory of Jory's earnest face stopped him. There was something about Jory that intrigued him. Bob's friend Alyssa had formerly rented the apartment Bob currently occupied. She had moved in with her boyfriend and had recommended Bob to the landlord, so the place had never even gone on the market. It was within walking distance of the bank where Bob worked, plus it was enormous for a studio, with high ceilings and large windows. The price was reasonable as it catered to the artistic sort, talented and starving.
    Bob wondered if Jory was an artist. Several times while passing in the hallway, Bob had wanted to do more than nod at him, but Jory's direct eye contact and almost fey look had been intimidating. Bob had always dropped his gaze and hurried past.
    He knows my name , Bob mused, and he knows where I work. Why? It was flattering, but after recent events, Bob felt cynical enough to be suspicious.
    "Hey," someone said behind him and Bob nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled to find Jory watching him with wide eyes. He reached out a hand and clapped it to Bob's