The Lawson Boys: Marty (14 page)

The mobile rang
and he flipped it open. Work. Just what he needed.

He was still
chatting on it when a jet roared overhead and unable to help
himself, he checked his watch. Five past eleven. Belle’s plane?
More than likely.

He didn’t even
want to try and interpret the little fall deep inside his
stomach.

That’d teach
him to miss breakfast.

~*~

Wednesday
evening, Marty walked into the gym and made his way to the workout
room. Around him people sweated on treadmills and other exercise
apparatus. He walked between them all, not even aware of the women
eyeing him admiringly as he progressed.

Going through a
doorway into another huge room, he noted the aerobics class going
on at the far end, the heavy beat of music filling the air. A quick
glance over as he approached the weight area had him relieved to
see that Marcia wasn’t attending the evening class. At least one
thing in his personal life was going right.

Spotting Alan
picking up some dumbbells, he walked over to him.

“Hey,” Alan
said.

“Hey,” Marty
replied. “Mike here?”

“Yeah. He’s
over there bench pressing a cow.” Alan gestured to where Mike, his
fellow cop and Tim’s friend, and hence now also Marty’s friend, was
lying back on a bench, his massive muscles bulging under weights
that probably did weigh as much as a whole cow.

Marty looked
back at Alan. “What are you lifting?”

“Half a cow.”
Alan’s gaze wandered back to the group of svelte women in leotards
and sweats, bouncing around to the beat of music and dutifully
obeying the aerobics instructor.

Marty eyed the
weights Alan held in each hand and estimated they were about five
kilos each. “Really.”

“Okay, a
quarter then. Why quibble?”

“I don’t know
how you manage to ogle women so lewdly and never get thrown
out.”

“I’m a cop.
I’m protecting them.”

“How can you
protect them from yourself?”

“Let’s not get
into puzzles, Marty, you’ll pull a mental muscle.” Alan slid a look
his way as Marty dusted off his hands and picked up a heavy weight,
making his biceps and triceps flex and bunch impressively.
“Hmmm.”

“What?” Marty
curled his arm as he brought one of the weights up.

“Where’s The
Other Woman?”

A muscle ticked
in Marty’s jaw. “Who?”

“You know.
Belle.”

“Belle’s gone
home.” Stopping in the act of bringing the weight close to his
chest, Marty’s eye narrowed. “And you say nothing to anyone.”

“Ooohh.” Alan’s
grin widened.

“Ooohh
nothing.” Marty pointed at him with one weight. “You haven’t been
shooting off your mouth, have you?”

Alan was
insulted. “Hey, what kind of a bloke do you think I am?”

“You don’t want
to know that.”

“Listen, I’m a
copper. That means I know when to keep my mouth shut.” Alan grunted
as he tried to lift his weight straight out. “I think they’ve got
the wrong weight marked on this thing.”

“No,” Mike said
from behind him. “It’s only five kilos.”

“I think you’re
wrong. It’s at least fifteen.”

Grabbing one of
the weights, Mike waved it around effortlessly before handing it
back to Alan. “No, it’s five all right.”

“Show off.”
Alan proceeded to half-heartedly lift the weight, his gaze sliding
once more towards Marty. “Lawson here has a problem.”

“What?” Marty’s
head snapped up.

“He has
feelings
.” Alan nodded solemnly.

Mike regarded
Marty steadily. “Got a problem, Lawson?”

“No.” Marty
scowled at Alan.

Alan simpered.
“He’s fallen for this big chick who-”

“Call her a big
chick once more and we’ll see how you go swallowing five kilos,”
Marty growled.

“Struck a
nerve, did I?” Alan laughed right before he took another look at
Marty’s face and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

Realising that
Alan was staring at him, Marty sighed. “Now what’s wrong with
you?”

“You’ve fallen
for the big chick.”

“
What?
”

“Belle. The
Other Woman. Hot damn, Lawson, you’ve fallen for her!”

Replacing the
weights on the bench, Marty shook his head. “Have you been sucking
on the exhaust pipe of your car?”

“I can see it,
man.” Alan dropped his much lighter weights on the bench.

Still shaking
his head, Marty glanced at Mike. “You shouldn’t let him lift
weights in front of the aerobics class, Mike. Everything goes to
his head.”

Mike just
regarded him steadily.

Straightening,
Marty frowned. “What?”

“You sweet on
the lady?” Mike asked.

“Sweet on the
lady? Who?”

“This Belle
lady.”

“Belle? Good
God, no.” Marty couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t like he was dreaming
about her…much. “What gave you that idea?”

Mike exchanged
glances with Alan, who smirked.

“Oh for -
seriously? You’re going to believe
Alan
?” Rolling his
shoulders, Marty turned and surveyed the weights. Falling for
Belle? Where did Alan get such a stupid idea? Cripes, he’d only
thought of her a couple of times since she left. No big deal. “I’m
not sweet on Belle or anyone else.”

“What about
Marcia?” Alan queried. “You’re bonking her.”

“Marcia
is…”

“You’re not
sweet on her,” Mike announced.

“Not that it’s
any of your business.” Marty hefted up a fifteen kilo weight in
each hand and turned to face the two men watching him, one with
glee and one with his usual stoic expression. “Haven’t you two got
any crooks to catch or something?”

“Or something.”
Alan jerked one thumb over his shoulder. “I’m watching the ladies,
doing my civic duty even while off-duty.”

Admirable,”
Marty replied dryly. “And Mike actually lets you.”

“I lift
weights,” Mike stated. “Alan does what he wants.”

“Which is close
to sexual harassment.”

“Speaking of
sexual things.” Alan leaned forward a little. “So, about
Belle…?”

“Don’t even go
there,” Marty warned. “There is nothing to speak of, nothing to
know.” So what if he’d dreamed of soft lips and an even softer body
during the night and woken with yet another impressive boner? The
woman in his dreams had been faceless except for green eyes. That
was all. A lot of women had green eyes. True, he couldn’t think of
anyone apart from Belle immediately, but it meant nothing.

“Uh huh.” Alan
nudged Mike.

Mike just
continued to regard Marty.

Marty eyed him
back.

Mike grunted
and picked up twenty kilo weights, hefting them with ease.

Alan, not to be
outdone, picked up a five kilo weight and proceeded to do arm
curls.

Seeking to
change the subject, because going by Alan’s gleaming eyes he wasn’t
finished yet, Marty raised one brow at Mike. “So where’s
Maddy?”

“Working
late.”

“Oh.”

Alan, about to
say something, was diverted by a giggling blonde swaying past them.
Unfortunately the blonde eyed Marty instead and the five kilo
weight Alan was lifting stopped mid-swing. “Shit,” he said in
disgust.

More to annoy
Alan than for any real interest on his part, Marty winked at the
blonde, who fluttered her eyelashes at him and fished a card out of
her low-cut tank top.

“Call me,” she
purred, slipping the damp card into the waistband of his shorts
with lingering fingers before walking off.

It did nothing
for Marty’s libido, but it gave him great satisfaction at Alan’s
expression.

“I don’t
believe it.” Alan sighed.

Grinning, Marty
looked up to find Mike watching him disapprovingly. “What?”

“You’re going
out with another woman but you still accept phone numbers from
others.”

“Marcia and I
aren’t…” Marty stopped, cleared his throat. “Well, we are, but it’s
not serious.”

“Really?” Alan
queried. “’Cause I heard that she’s picking out the engagement ring
you’re going to be giving to her.”

Marty nearly
dropped the weights. Jesus. Maybe it was more than a rumour.

Alan opened his
mouth again, but before he could ruin Marty’s evening any further
there came a tap on Marty’s shoulder.

“Hey, Lawson,
you know who The Other Woman is.”

Mike’s eyes
were unfathomable though his granite jaw hardened, while Alan
studied the man behind Marty.

Turning slowly,
Marty looked down coolly at Tyrell Baker, the part-time
photographer, last seen at the pub and definitely not a welcome
sight now. “You’re not exactly dressed for weight lifting,
Baker.”

“Not looking to
lift weights,” Baker replied cheerfully. “What I’m after is
information.”

“Really?” Marty
knew exactly on whom.

“Yeah. The
Other Woman.” When Marty just continued to look at him, Baker
sighed and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. Flicking across
the screen, he continued to talk. “That woman you were with the
other night?”

“Marcia?”
Cursing silently, Marty maintained his calm demeanour.

“No, the
other
woman. At the pub after Trevor Benderage’s fiasco of a
wedding.” Baker grinned. “Which is now the hot topic in town.”

“Really?” Marty
raised one brow in apparent boredom. “That’s all anyone can think
about? Surely there’s something more newsworthy?”

“Not right now.
The hot topic is who is The Other Woman?”

“Oh?”

“Come on,
Lawson.” All cheerfulness fled from Baker’s expression as he held
up the mobile phone. “I saw you with this woman, and this same
woman is the centre of the storm.”

There was no
doubting the woman in the photo was Belle. She’d been caught as
she’d looked up at him, her expression uncertain. Marty’s hand was
at her waist and he was smiling down at her. His posture was
protective. There was no doubting it as he leaned down a little, a
buffer between Belle and the rest of the crowded room.

“Nice.” Alan
studied the photo over Marty’s shoulder. “Don’t recognise her,
though.” He stated the lie with such an innocent face that if Marty
hadn’t known better, he’d have believed him.

Ignoring Alan,
Baker focussed his attention on Marty’s face. “Who is she?”

Turning away,
Marty placed the weights back on the bench. “No idea.”

“Come on,
Lawson. You don’t take out a woman and don’t bother to ask her
name. You know who she is.”

A flare of
anger went through Marty but he remained outwardly calm. “You’re
the investigative reporter, you find out.”

“You’re going
to try and deny that she was Trevor’s little bit on the side?” When
Marty simply picked up his water bottle and unscrewed the cap,
Baker sighed impatiently. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Lawson.
Someone who was at the wedding saw this photo and picked her out.
All I want is a few photos. She can do an interview for my friend
and tell her side of the story.”

Lifting the
bottle to his lips, Marty took several long swallows without
removing his gaze from Baker. Personally, he’d love to shove the
mobile phone right up Baker’s arse but unfortunately that was
frowned upon by the law.

And his
mother.

His father not
so much.

Baker tapped
his foot impatiently. “Come on, Lawson. Who is she?”

Marty
re-screwed the cap on the bottle.

“Okay, then
where is she?”

“Seriously?”
Alan queried. “You really think he’d tell you that?”

“No, it’s all
right.” Marty placed the bottle down on the floor.

Mike glanced at
him without expression. Alan’s eyebrows rose up.

“She’s gone,”
Marty announced. “Vamoosed. Hit the hills. Got on her bike.”

Baker frowned.
“Gone?”

“Left. No
longer here.”

“Where to?”

“I’m not her
keeper. I met her, we had a drink, she went home.”

Baker leaped on
that admission like a wolf on a deer. “Where does she live?”

“Not a clue.
She took a taxi.”

Baker’s eyes
narrowed. “I think you’re lying.”

“I think you’re
an arsehole, but you don’t see me risking getting wrinkles on my
brow about it.” Smoothing one finger across his forehead, Marty
flipped a hank of blonde hair back.

“Yeah,” Alan
agreed. “Don’t risk the wrinkles. It’s aging.”

Baker looked at
Mike, who looked back at him coldly.

Leaning back
against the weight bench, Marty waited. Oh yeah, he’d like to punch
Tyrell Baker’s nosey lights right out.

Baker studied
Marty. “You don’t send women home alone, Lawson.”

“I sent
her.”

“Why? Because
you’re not into fat women?”

Marty
straightened fast, his fists clenched. Mike quickly placed himself
in-between Marty and Baker, his eyes as cold as his voice. “Back
off, Baker. You got your answer, now stop harassing a member of the
public.”

Baker scowled,
but he stepped back. “All right. I’ll find out who she is without
your help. I have contacts.”

“Good for you,”
Alan said cheerfully. “Now piss off.”

Swinging on his
heel, Baker walked away, his back straight and shoulders stiff.

Marty glared
after him. “Bastard.”

“Oh yeah,” Alan
agreed.

Mike looked at
Marty. “You okay, Lawson?”

“You mean, as
in will I refrain from chasing him outside and pounding his head
in? Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Marty relaxed a little. “Gossip
scum. Like nothing better to do than skim the depths of shit to
find something to gawp at.”

“Doesn’t Maddy
read gossip rags?” Alan asked Mike.

Mike glared at
him.

“Hey.” Alan
held out his hands, palms outwards. “Peace, man. I’m on your
side.”

“As if we
didn’t have enough problems,” Marty said.

Mike returned
his attention to him. “You going to be all right?”