Realtors For Sale

by Diane Rapp

  The remainder of the orientation proceeded smoothly. One-by-one a dog was brought out from the kennel to choose a human partner. The dog wandered down the line of potential handlers, sniffing each person. Soon the dog sat next to a preferred human. Carra then demonstrated how to use the leash properly and walked each pair through various commands.

  The calm attitude of the dogs won over most of the agents, however, Jennifer and Cynthia remained adamant about avoiding open house duty. Beverly and Humphrey each decided to give the dogs a try.

  Carra said, “I’d like to schedule personal training sessions with each of you before this weekend.”

  Mary shook Carra’s hand enthusiastically. “My secretary will call to schedule times after we return to the office.” She grinned as the agents stroked their dogs affectionately. “It looks like they will enjoy working with your animals.”

  A warm sense of belonging filled Tamara’s chest. Bentley leaned against her leg as she stroked his soft head. “We did it, boy. I’ll bet Carra’s dogs find homes with some of these agents.”

  She cast a sideways glance at Paxton Johnson and found him staring at her. She gave him a tentative wave and joined Beverly, who was waiting at her car. Beverly grinned at her friend. “I think he likes you. Too bad you waved your wedding ring in his face like a stop sign. Girl, you really must move forward with your life.” She climbed into the Honda and clicked the seat belt into place.

  Tightening her lips, Tamara groaned. “I’m not ready to date, Bev. Besides, I just started a new career. I don’t have time for handsome strangers.”

  “So you did notice how handsome he was, it’s a good start,” Bev chuckled. “You’re doing fine. Don’t let an old woman rattle your cage.”

  As they entered the parking lot near the office, Tamara stopped near the office to let Bev out and then drove around to find a vacant spot. She couldn’t help think about Bev’s comment. Should she remove her wedding ring and let men know she was available? No. She definitely wasn’t ready yet.

  Paxton was an army brat, learning six languages fluently before the age of fourteen. His family moved from base to base around the world until his father died suddenly from heart disease. His mother applied for various teaching jobs stateside and accepted a position teaching French at the university in Santa Barbara. As a talented linguist, Paxton became her unpaid apprentice.

  He loved life in Santa Barbara. Paxton was finally able to attend the same school for more than a few months and make lasting friends, a new experience for him. His older sister had married a career officer, so it was Paxton and his mom in the house.

  After graduating from UCSB with a degree in International Studies, Paxton moved to Washington D.C. and worked as an analyst at Homeland Security. He rose through the ranks, honing his firearms and martial arts proficiency by attending courses at Quantico.

  Recently his mother had been diagnosed with dementia. Paxton realized he must return home to help manage her ongoing care in a local nursing home. He applied for a position with the CBI with the stipulation that he could open a new office in Santa Barbara. He was hired on a provisional basis, assembled a team, and moved into his mother’s small house.

  Paxton’s best friend, Mike Taylor, ran a construction company. Mike’s wife, Carra, ran the dog training facility he had visited today. Paxton wanted to buy his own trained dog from her. Mike also offered to introduce him to some single women the couple knew, but he felt reluctant to go out on blind dates.

  A new city and his friends were already trying to play match-maker! Paxton’s past romantic relationships had never survived the dating phase. Sometimes his demanding career interfered, but usually the women he met were laser-focused on their own ambitions. Would he ever find an interesting woman to share his life, one he could love as much as his father loved his mother? Perhaps it too late for him now.

  Tamara had seemed vaguely familiar when they shook hands at the kennel. After the realtors left, he asked Mike about her. His friend chuckled and said, “Tamara attended San Marcos High as a freshman when we were cocky seniors. Don’t let the wedding ring scare you off. She’s been a widow for two years. Carra keeps trying to introduce eligible men to her but she won’t take the bait. You two hit it off, so give her a call.”

  When Paxton arrived home, he searched through boxes stored in his mother’s attic and found his senior yearbook. When he found her photo, Paxton remembered the shy but beautiful teenager. Surrounded by a group of her girlfriends, she giggled and blushed when he passed them in the hall. He was too popular to associate with a mere freshman, so he never asked her on a date. After this case was wrapped up, he’d definitely give her a call.

  Chapter 4 – Open House

  During the next few days, the agents in Tamara’s estate office trained with their canine companions daily. The open houses were scheduled and advertised. Tamara learned that a few other offices in town also engaged the services of Carra’s guard dogs.

  As the weekend approached, anxiety at the real estate office grew more intense. Tamara felt skittish and Bentley stuck by her side at all times. She suffered from nightmares and felt like someone was watching her from the shadows.

  When would this end?

  During breakfast on Saturday morning, Tamara’s phone buzzed. She opened a text marked “Urgent” from the office secretary. She read it aloud, “Our office received a FAX this morning from the Board of Realtors. The culprit who kidnapped those women has been arrested in northern California, so we’re all safe to hold open houses.”

  Bentley barked and wagged his tail. Tamara laughed. “Do you understand everything I tell you? Well, we don’t need to worry about bad men coming into the open house so you don’t need to come with me.”

  He whined and raced into the hall, grabbing the camo-colored harness before he returned to Tamara. Bentley dropped the harness on the floor at her feet and stared up expectantly.

  “Does this mean you still want to go to the open house? You’ve been such a good boy in training, so you can come along.” She picked up the harness and strapped it onto the calm poodle, laughing.

  The day seemed brighter as Tamara pounded stakes with open house signs at the street corners leading up to the property. An arrow on the final sign pointed toward the house from the driveway entrance. She parked her green Honda Element in the garage, closed the garage door, and carried her briefcase in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. Climbing three steps from the garage’s concrete slab, she entered the back door leading from the garage into the kitchen. Bentley trotted at her side.

  He stared up at the plate as she put it into the oven and set the temperature to warm. Tamara said, “Don’t even think about eating any of these cookies. They contain chocolate and would make you very sick. I’ll go grab your biscuits from the car in a minute.”

  Loud beeping from the alarm system alerted Tamara that she’d forgotten to enter the alarm code when she came inside from the garage. Rushing to the alarm keypad, she entered the code just as her cellphone rang.

  “Yes, this is Tamara Owens. I’m so sorry, I got loaded down with stuff to carry and forgot to enter the code. Okay. My safe word is poodle. Yes, I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  She disconnected and ran onto the garage to grab the plastic container full of dog cookies. Feeling late, she rushed through the house, checking to be sure everything looked clean and ready for customers.

  Max stood inside the garage listing to the stupid woman tell the alarm company her safe word. He smirked. She’d need a safe word after he got his hands on her! Grabbing those last three realtors was a breeze, but this job kept getting easier all the time. The marks literally invited him in through the front door.

  He fingered a glass syringe tucked into his suit pocket and imagined plunging the needle into her silky smooth skin. Her sexy eyes would pop open with a startled expression, and he’d savor watching panic take hold when she couldn’t move.

  Drat!

  A pair of gray-
haired punters pulled their Lexus into the circle drive and climbed out. He flattened against the wall and decided to wait until traffic for the open house slowed down. It was a good thing he parked the Mercedes around the corner so they didn’t see it and write down the license plate. Getting nabbed just as the job was nearly finished would make the Boss furious.

  Max darted out of the garage just as the girl rushed inside to grab a plastic box from the car. He watched the couple as they walked up to the doorstep and darted through thick bushes when he heard the doorbell ring. Max climbed into the car and took a deep breath. It might be time to scope out the neighborhood and find a good spot to wait, maybe take a quick nap. A guy needed to save his energy for the important job later today.

  The doorbell rang.

  Tamara checked her watch. It was barely eleven but the open house signs must be working. Smiling, Tamara opened the door and greeted a middle-aged couple waiting to enter. Bentley stood at her side, accepting friendly pats on his head as the couple followed Tamara through the house. She barely had time to serve the first couple a glass of iced tea and cookies before more people arrived.

  She’d never felt happier. Potential clients signed the guestbook, leaving phone numbers and e-mail addresses. They spoke in glowing terms about the beautiful Spanish-style home as they toured the interior. Tamara felt sure Mike Taylor’s company would soon receive good offers on the property.

  Most clients stroked Bentley’s head and seemed relaxed while viewing the house. Traffic was steady until three o’clock, when Tamara finally had a few minutes to eat the cup of yoghurt she stowed in the refrigerator. Thumbing through e-mails on her phone, a sound from the hallway startled her.

  Bentley’s chest rumbled with a growl, and Tamara saw a man’s dark figure silhouetted in the open doorway. She reached for Bentley’s leash and clipped it onto the harness before standing to greet the new customer. “Sorry, I was just finishing a snack and didn’t hear your car in the driveway.”

  Bentley stared at the man with his head lowered, ready to spring. Influenced by the dog’s suspicious attitude, Tamara mistrusted the man instantly. Although he dressed in a pinstriped suit and his grey-tinged dark hair looked professionally styled, Tamara felt sure he was a phony. The man presented the right image of a qualified buyer for this home, but she instinctively felt something was wrong about him.

  With a loud click, he shut the front door and stepped closer to Tamara. The friendly grin on his rugged face was not reflected in those steely dark eyes. Tamara cringed away from him, and Bentley blocked the man’s approach by inserting his body between the man and Tamara.

  He laughed and retreated a step. “Doesn’t like me much, does he?” he asked, dropping his unshaken hand. “I’m surprised to see a dog at an open house.”

  Tamara tugged Bentley back against her side. “He’s a security dog and takes his role seriously, sorry.” She picked up the brochure describing the house and handed it to the man.

  Glancing through the sidelights that framed the front door, Tamara noticed a dark blue Mercedes parked in the circular driveway. Reports about the kidnapper had mentioned a dark-colored Mercedes had been seen near one of the crime scenes.

  Her stomach clenched. Today’s message from the Board of Realtors claimed the kidnapper was caught, so she must be jumping to conclusions.

  The man glanced superficially at the brochure and then stared into the empty living room. “Nice. Too bad the developer didn’t spring for the money to put furniture inside. I prefer to lounge before a fireplace with a whiskey and a sexy lady at my side before committing to a purchase.”

  Tamara felt an urge to flee as he cast a meaningful glance in her direction, but he turned and sauntered down the hall. The man definitely took control of the situation, and she didn’t like it. “Are the bedrooms down here?” he asked in a suggestive tone.

  Stopping at the entrance to the master bedroom, he waited for her to enter the room ahead of him. His right hand slipped into a pocket of the suit jacket, and he pulled out a smartphone. “I’d like to get a few pictures while we’re here,” he said.

  As Tamara reached out to open the door of the spacious walk-in closet, she heard a series of clicks. She turned to see his phone pointed directly at her face and felt startled. “What are you doing?” she huffed. A knot of anxiety formed in her chest and Bentley growled louder.

  Sliding the phone back into his pocket he replied, “I couldn’t resist taking a photo of such a beautiful woman. Why don’t you close up this vacant house and take me to a place filled with comfortable furniture. We could get better acquainted, and I could make it worth your time.” With two long strides he almost reached her side.

  Bentley became alert when something in his hand glistened. He reacted instantly, jumping to snap at the man’s outstretched hand. The man recoiled and kicked at the nimble dog, missing his target. In a burst of anger, Tamara skirted around him while flashing the ring on her left hand. “I’m a married woman and your suggestion is a totally improper.” She stomped out of the room with Bentley hugging her side.

  The man chuckled and followed her to the front door. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. Are you happily married? I’ve known plenty of married women who enjoy a fling or two without their husbands knowing.” His tone sounded licentious.

  Tamara bristled and glared at him. “You obviously don’t know me.” She reached for the front door’s handle and realized the man had turned the lock on the door as he entered. Unlatching the door, she threw it open and announced, “It’s time for you to leave. Don’t come back.”

  His expression turned stony and calculating, hardly flirtatious. He again reached out, as if he were offering to shake her hand. She stepped out of reach and gave him a curt shake of her head.

  He murmured, “I hoped we could be friends. You look so sexy in that velvet jacket, almost like a movie star. No one could blame me for being tempted by a seductress.”

  As he snapped at the man’s fist, Bentley almost jerked the leash out of Tamara’s hand. The man’s lip curled into a scowl as he warned, “Better get your vicious animal under control. You’d get sued right quick if he bit me, you know.” Stepping outside, he shot his sleeves and adjusted his tie, stomping toward the Mercedes. He said, “Bye, bye, Suzanne.”

  Why would he call her Suzanne? Tamara Owens, Real Estate Agent, was boldly listed on the for-sale sign out front and also printed on the brochure she’d handed him. She slammed the door and turned the lock before leaning against the solid wood. Her heart pounded and breathing proved difficult.

  With quivering hands Tamara stroked Bentley’s soft ears. “You were such a good guard dog, Bentley. The man was scary.” Hearing the sound of tires move across the driveway, Tamara peeked through the front window and watched the Mercedes drive down the street.

  Glancing at her watch, she realized she still had two hours before five o’clock, the advertised time the open house ended. She peered out nervously before she unlatched the lock.

  Should she call someone about the man? The police? Her broker? No. Bentley acted relaxed as he trotted back to his dog bed. The guy might have been a jerk, but the police had already captured the kidnapper. She couldn’t let her imagination run wild. It wasn’t the first time a man had tried to pick her up. She fingered the wedding ring on her hand, feeling grateful she still wore it.

  Inside the blue Mercedes, Max Jacobs seethed with anger. He punched a speed dial number and his phone instantly connected. “Hi, Max. Did you collect Suzanne?” the voice on the phone demanded in a curt tone.

  “She brought a guard dog with her, and I couldn’t get close enough to jab her with the needle. You think maybe I should grab our second choice instead?” Max asked, hopefully.

  After a long silence, the voice demanded, “We promised Suzanne to our buyer, and you will deliver her. Kill the dog if you must but bring the woman to the farmhouse tonight. We don’t have much time left to deliver the entire collection, so finish your job.”


  “Yes, Boss,” the man replied but the connection was dead. He pounded the steering wheel but slowly gained control. “I’d be happy to get rid of the blasted poodle for you.” He gazed at the photo of Suzanne on his phone and murmured, “She looks real tasty.”

  Max Jacobs usually loved his job. Sure, bashing in faces while collecting for loan sharks was nearly as much fun and paid real good. Running drugs had been pretty risky, but that job allowed him to test the product at no charge. He never knew he’d like this job so much; snatching unsuspecting women gave him the best high of all.

  When he jabbed a needle filled with Ketamine into the target’s flesh, Max savored the fear in the broad’s eyes. Before she became senseless, every woman realized that Max was the one who controlled her life or her death. Her terror triggered a mind-altering rush of power surging through his body. It was better than any drug he ever took.

  As a bonus the Boss usually let Max play with his captives before they were sold, but this new buyer was fussy. He wanted the entire collection unmolested. Too bad, he enjoyed that particular perk of the job, but a share of four million bucks would be worth denying himself a bit of pleasure. He could pay for all the fun he needed when he got plenty of dough. He grinned. Wringing the blasted poodle’s neck would be a whole bunch of fun and wouldn’t cost him a dime.

  Parking in the shade of a large oak tree, he sprinkled cocaine onto a small mirror he kept in the glove box and formed it into a neat line with a credit card. He sniffed the white powder through a rolled-up hundred—the bigger the bill, the better the high. Allowing the drug to soothe his anger, he leaned back and waited for Suzanne to close down for the night.

  Max knew the broad’s real name was not Suzanne, but when they sold her off to the highest bidder, it would be the name she’d hear day and night. He smirked, knowing she’d learn to answer right quick when her master called. Max wished he could be there to enjoy watching.