I nodded when he paused and he continued.

“So he needed to recruit a crew to do the dirty work. He did that and took pains to be certain he was not connected with any of them. Finding the drug dealer wasn’t hard. Convincing him to commit felonious acts was even less hard, seein’ as the guy would get his cut.”

“How did high school kids get involved?” I asked.

“The brainstorm came when he found out the dealer was dating a teacher,” Jacob answered. “Prosky, being nice and having a mission, unfortunately also has natural charisma, and there’s no denyin’ he loves his mom. He conceived this plan, the drug dealer, his girlfriend, a teacher, her brother, another teacher and their brother, McFarland were recruited on greed alone. The kids were recruited to keep all their hands clean. He convinced the kids they were doing something worthwhile, saving a life. The teachers pinpointed the kids to approach and made preliminary connections. The dealer was the trainer, since he’d had some B&E’s in his past, and enforcer in case they got out of hand or balked. McFarland was the good guy to the dealer’s bad guy, keeping the kids from freaking. He also did most of the fencing. Prosky was the spiritual leader, keeping them on target.”

“So did the kid who committed suicide think the dealer was going to hurt him?” I asked, and Jacob shook his head.

“No clue. He didn’t leave a note. But his buds were all brought in when McFarland and Wade started spilling and they talked. They said it was more likely he was devastated that he might have disappointed Prosky and his mom. Part of the recruitment process was to meet her, see what that disease was doing to her, how money could help and he thought he f**ked it all up. Kids that age get overemotional about a lot of shit. Prosky manipulated that, got them all worked up, feelin’ they were doin’ good deeds and screwin’ that pooch would f**k with their head. It f**ked with that kid’s head. Then again, for any of these kids to be willin’ to do his shit, they were all borderline anyway, something the teachers knew. They went over the edge just committing robberies. It wouldn’t take more to tip shit further.”

That made sense. It was whacked, sad sense but it was sense.

But one thing didn’t make sense.

“What was with the girl today?” I queried.

“The girl was McFarland’s brother’s girlfriend. The deal was no one outside the team knew shit about anything. After he got arrested, so he wouldn’t lose her, this guy talked to his woman to explain their mission, giving her the line they were doing bad things for good reasons. She didn’t give a shit about some woman she didn’t know in Denver who unfortunately has MS. She gave a shit that her man was going to spend the next at least two years honing his skills to become an ex-con, one who couldn’t get out and get a job that had shit to do with his degree. She was making rumblings of talking to the cops about a deal so her man’s sentence would be reduced, or even, since according to her his hands weren’t that dirty, get immunity and not do time at all.”

I didn’t like the idea of a bad teacher getting off that lightly, but I could understand her concerns.

Jacob kept talking.

“Prosky didn’t give a shit about all of them going down. They got arrested, he hauled his ass to Denver, didn’t look back and was already setting up another crew. What he couldn’t have was him going down. There would be no one not only to pay for his mother’s care but also no one to care for her as that disease took its course.”

“So he took this woman to scare her? Shut her up?” I asked, and Jacob nodded.

“Desperate act. Then again, it all was, the disease wasn’t going to quit, which means the acts would get more desperate so he was going to screw up eventually.”

“How did he use the money to pay for stuff and not have it traced back to the robberies?” I went on.

“Like I said, he’s likable. His mother, though, is beloved. Apparently an amazing woman, lots of friends. As the disease progressed, they did what they could but only so much folks can do. They had fundraising events and people ran races for her, shit like that. But her care ate all that up, and kept going. People have their own lives and they can give selflessly but they can’t do it for eternity. So, given the opportunity to do more without it coming from their pockets or sweat, they did it. It didn’t take much for Prosky to talk them into saying they gave a gift for her care, and as it was cash, it couldn’t be traced. That said, when DPD officers went out to have chats after we got Prosky this afternoon, several of them ’fessed up. But they did it expressing concern for Prosky and his mom.”

All this was sad, lives destroyed, a young man was dead and a woman would now face a bitter battle with a disease with no one at her side.

Part of me got why Prosky did what he did. That didn’t mean I condoned it. Too much was lost, even if what he was trying to gain was honorable.

The rest of me just hoped myself or no one I knew faced the same kind of tragedy.

Jacob’s words took me out of my thoughts.

“You okay with all this, honey?”

I focused on him as my body melted into his.

He was such a good guy.

And he so totally loved me.

“I’m okay,” I assured.

“Brings up bad shit for you,” he reminded me, scanning my face, looking for indications I’d inadvertently taught him to search for when it came to me. Hiding fear. Burying things. Preparing to retreat.

“I’m not happy someone got kidnapped,” I shared, and his arms around me got tight. “But I’m here, with you, Buford and Josephine. I’m full of good burritos. And I’m learning how to count my blessings instead of fear they’ll be swept away from me. So I’m good, outside of not being real happy you spent time today thinking I wouldn’t be.”

I got another squeeze on his, “I’m fine, Emme.”

It was my turn to search his features to make sure he was what he said.

And he looked okay to me. Well, not okay. Handsome, intent and sweet, but that was his norm so that was okay.

It was time to move us on.

Not to bury it.

Just to move past it.

In order to do that, I asked, “You know what all this means?”

“I know what all this means to me, that this guy was completely f**ked in the head,” Jacob answered, and I grinned but shook my head.

“What all this means is that it lays testimony to the blatant fact we need socialized medical care,” I announced.

Jacob stared at me.

Then he moved his eyes to the ceiling and stared at it.

“Admit it, I’m not wrong,” I pushed.

At that, Jacob angled up, taking me with him. The move was so sudden, I cried out and latched on. We were front to front with my hands clutching his shoulders and my legs wrapped around his h*ps when he started walking.

Toward the French doors.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Jacob didn’t answer. He kept walking then dipped down to open the door.

Out we went with me crying, “Jacob! What are you—?”

I didn’t get it all out. He made it to the edge of the pool, pulled me from his body even as I tried to keep hold and easily tossed me right into the water.

Fully clothed.

I came up spluttering, pulling my hair from my face and shouting, “Are you insane?”

Standing at the side of the pool, hands on hips, smiling, Jacob declared, “Just sayin’, anytime you mention socializing medical care, you get tossed in the drink.”

“You are insane!” I yelled, swiping an arm across the water in hopes of splashing him but I was too far away and thus failed.

He kept smiling.

Then he yanked his shirt over his head and I watched with some awe as he bent his knees and took off. His long straight body knifing through the air, it sliced into the water as he executed a perfect dive.

God. He could even dive perfectly.

In jeans.

Or maybe it was perfect because it was hot he was doing it in jeans.

Or maybe it was just hot because he was joining me.

I treaded water as he swam under it and came up in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him as he did.

I again grabbed his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips.

“I’m glad we’re moving to my house,” I announced. “I don’t have a pool so when you don’t want to concede a valid, and I’ll just note, accurate point, you can’t toss me into it.”

“Emme,” he said.

“What?” I snapped.

“Take off your sweater,” he ordered.

I watched his face in the tranquil, revolving colors of the pool lights and noticed my man was not in the mood to discuss political ideology.

Suddenly, I wasn’t either.

So I pulled off my sweater.

* * *

An hour later…

Jacob powering inside me, my back to the wall of the pool, my face in his neck, our soggy clothes strewn around the pool deck, my legs wrapped around his hips, he stated, “This summer, we’re puttin’ a pool in at your place, south side.”