Trust Me

gratification. Being alone a lot taught a man that much, if nothing else.
    Desdemona slipped off the stool and trailed after him to the door. She waited until he had it open before she touched his arm lightly. “Good night, Stark.”
    He paused. “There was one thing I wanted to ask you before I go.”
    “What’s that?”
    “It’s about that stuff Tony found in your bedroom.”
    Desdemona’s cheeks turned pink. “Kirsten gave it to me. Samples from the product lines that Exotica Erotica will stock. It was a sort of thank-you gift.”
    “I thought that might be it,” he said with grim resignation. “So you did cosign the loan?”
    “Of course. Kirsten and Henry are family. The Wainwrights take care of each other. It’s not a one-way street, you know. Kirsten and Henry were there when I needed a lot of free labor at the beginning of Right Touch.”
    “Answer one more question for me,” Stark said. “Can you handle it financially if you wind up having to pay off their loan?”
    Her mouth tightened. “Kirsten will make Exotica Erotica work. She’s a lot like me. She’s not only a wonderful set designer, she’s got a head for business.”
    “Sure.” He kissed her lightly again, stepped out into the hall, and closed the door.
    He waited until he heard Desdemona throw the dead bolt before he went along the corridor to the elevator.
    While he waited, he considered the two new factors he had learned this evening that would likely impact his relationship with Desdemona. The first was the unmistakable possessiveness and resentment that he had seen in Tony Wainwright’s eyes.
    The second factor was the high probability that Exotica Erotica would succumb to the terrible fatality statistics that afflicted new businesses. Every business faced such grim statistics. Stark Security had faced them and survived, but many did not. He knew that if Kirsten’s shop went under, it would threaten to drag Right Touch down with it.
    But he also sensed now that nothing could have dissuaded Desdemona from cosigning the loan. He recalled the fierceness in her eyes when she had told him that she was a true Wainwright. It reminded him of the old saying about the danger of being more royalist than the king. Whatever had happened when she was five years old had made her more of a Wainwright than any real flesh-and-blood Wainwright.
    He wondered what it was like to feel that kind of bond with the members of one’s family, to know that whatever happened, you were never completely alone in the world.
    The significance of the flashing red and blue lights on the two patrol cars parked in front of his steel, concrete, and glass house took a moment to register on Stark.
    Then he realized that the police must have come in response to his silent alarm system.
    “Damn.” Stark pulled into the drive and switched off the engine. He contemplated the officer who walked toward him.
    It was a bad ending to what had been a fairly decent evening, all things considered.
    Stark opened the door and got out.
    The officer came to a halt and took out a notebook. “This your house?”
    “Yes. I’m Sam Stark.”
    “Afraid you just had an attempted break-in.”
    “The guy didn’t get inside, did he?” Stark asked the question with cool confidence. The alarm system he had installed was unique. He had designed it himself.
    “No. Just a couple of kids. Not pros. Tried to crack a window at the back. Never even got it open. They were still working on it when we got here.”
    “I see.” His carefully engineered state-of-the-art security systems had all functioned properly. Stark took a moment’s satisfaction in that knowledge. Well-thought-out design always paid off. “Kids, you said?”
    “Yeah.” The officer shook his head. “Seem to get younger all the time. These boys are only ten and twelve years old. Probably after stuff to sell for quick cash. VCRs, stereos, that kind of thing. Luckily they didn’t just smash the window and climb inside the house, grab the goodies, and run.”
    “It would have taken them at least twenty minutes to get through the window even if they’d had a hammer,” Stark said absently. “And by then you would have been on the scene. I’ve got a special clear coating on all the glass. Acts like a spider’s web. If someone breaks the window, the coating holds the fragments in place.”
    The officer smiled. “I’ve got that stuff on my own windows at home.”
    “We live in uncertain times.” Stark glanced at