The call from King came sooner than either of them expected. On the drive from Sherman Oaks to a Hilton hotel in Burbank, Arnie’s phone rang.
“Templeton,” he answered gruffly after checking the number of the caller.
“Arnie,” King replied in a businesslike manner. “We’ve got her. She used her VISA card in a Beverly Hills salon, so our information was correct. She’s on-site and taking it to the next level. My bet is on a change of appearance. Something dumb like hair color.”
The part of him personally involved felt nothing but anxiety. His other side, the professional side, took in the facts as they came and rearranged things in his mind like deck chairs on a yacht.
“Is she out in the open?”
“She’s not making any effort to hide.”
“What do you think it means?”
King murmured, “Hmph. Good question.” After a second’s pause, he grew even more serious. “The lady is either too dumb for words or completely brazen. Either way, she’s dangerous. And Arnie? Listen up, man. If she thinks there’s nothing to lose, I predict she’ll take it to the limit. Be prepared, okay?”
“Milo and Jade loaded me up with distraction devices. I gave Stan a quick workshop in flash-bang diversions. Backup in case I need it.”
“I’ve alerted a couple of old Navy SEAL buddies with the LAPD. Dottie will text you their contact details. When it’s time to involve the authorities, you call one of them first.”
“Understood. Is there an update on who is watching Summer? It would help to pinpoint the direction of the danger.”
“Not yet. The check Giselle wrote went to an account in Chicago, and all we can find out is a lot of nothing. Everyone has an alias. Jon is leaning on the lawyer, though. Bruce Wells wants to help but pulling what he doesn’t realize he knows out of his head will take time.”
“I want this wrapped up quickly. There’s enough to explain as it is. Add keeping my presence a secret and using Summer and my daughter as decoys isn’t going to sit well.”
“You have to ask yourself what the lady might say if she had a vote. I’ve learned from Dawn and becoming an instant father that parents will do whatever it takes to stomp out the flames of a threatening fire. She might be on board with ensnaring Giselle in a trap.”
Summer possessed a fierce spirit to begin with. Add motherhood into the mix and she had to be on her way to iron-mom status.
He didn’t laugh, but his snort held a tinge of amusement. “React first—think second.”
King laughed. The snarky saying was one of Dottie’s favorites. She was their official referee and was always flagging some play or other because according to her, their plans were sometimes so thick with testosterone there was no way for sense to poke through.
“If that’s how she rolls, I’m definitely going to like your Summer.”
“King,” Arnie mumbled, but the words he needed to say got stuck in his mouth.
“I know, Arnie. It’s cool, man. You, Jon, and me are the one, two, and three pins in bowling. We got picked off in a clean sweep by amazing females. It’s okay to freak out—just relax, and everything will work out.”
Stan didn’t ask or say anything after the call ended. He was glad for the silence. It gave him a chance to think.
Limping from the truck into the hotel lobby and onto the elevator took the last of his strength. Grateful for the elevator handrail, he steadied himself and looked at Stan.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Stan’s eyes twinkled with far too much merriment for Arnie’s comfort.
Would now be the time to tell his brother that on rare occasions he could practically hear Stan’s thoughts?
In the hallway on the way to their rooms, Arnie tried to ignore his slow, heavy-footed gait. In his head, he cursed Izzy for being too damn good at her job. He briefly wondered if she’d packed the suit with extra weight just to fuck with him. She’d do it too and laugh about his struggle till the end of time.
“This is you,” Stan muttered. He pointed at the door and then catty-corner across the hall. “And that’s me. Do you need help with anything before we go our separate ways?”
“No. I’m good.” He gave a half grimace and looked at his watch. “It’s still early. What are you gonna do?”
“There’s a meeting nearby. In about an hour. I think I’ll sit in.”
A meeting? Well, crap. Some big brother he was being. Stan’s sobriety required a steady hand and plenty of diligence. He felt like shit for making everything about his problems and pushing Stan’s to the back of the line.
“Are you okay? I mean, is there cause for concern?”
Stan took the card key out of Arnie’s hand and took care of unlocking the door. He handed back the card and gave a shrug of concession.
“No concern, bro. It’s cool. Being conscientious about meetings is a part of the gig. And besides,” he added with a chuckle, “there’s usually loads of coffee and cookies. If I’m lucky, someone will bring brownies.” He winked.
They shared a passion for good fudgy brownies. One summer, when they were still lads, Arnie challenged his little brother to a brownie-eating competition. It was a tie, and they both paid for the sibling contest with upset stomachs. Walking the extra mile for a brownie made sense even if an AA meeting represented the extra mile.
Arnie just nodded. His energy totally sapped, he felt as if someone pulled his plug.
It took the better part of an hour to shed his disguise. Worried about his nonexistent energy, he almost passed on showering until he saw a teak wood bath chair in the corner of the large open shower.
He liked sitting hunched over under the showerhead. The powerful spray felt as good as a massage. “I gotta get one of these,” he muttered while the hot water pounded his back and the enclosure filled with steam.
Imagining the nonstop ribbing of his NIGHTWIND cohorts should they discover the shower assist, he stuck his head into the stream of water and saw the humor in the situation.
It took the shower sponge touching his side and sliding over his injured hip for him to remember exactly why he hurt all over. It wasn’t from the bodysuit.
Contorting to get a better look at the contusion on his hip, he scowled and muttered a couple of pithy curses. He was going to end up with one hell of a black and blue mark.
Maybe you shouldn’t have been balancing on a tool chest, ya dumbass.
When he’d had enough Arnie toweled off, and then quickly donned sweats, and a T-shirt. Hotel room heat drove him insane. So did wearing clothes to sleep.
Throwing himself on the bed, he spent five minutes rearranging pillows until the padding was right, and he could relax. As he was uninterested in television or the on-demand selections, and barely lukewarm about amusing himself with his phone, the decision about how to pass time was easy. He reached for his wallet on the nightstand, took out the picture of Summer and their baby, and placed it on the pillow beside him.
Seventy-two hours, tops. He was willing to give this scheme seventy-two hours, and then he was going to kick in her door if he needed to and claim what was his.
Tossing and turning wasn’t Summer’s idea of restful sleep. Something was keeping her up, and she didn’t appreciate it—not one bit.
There were things in the air, but she couldn’t name anything specific, and it bothered her immensely. She was on edge, but not. The opposing emotions created a swirl of tension in her belly.
Rolling to her side and tucking her hands under her cheek, she stared at the night shadows dancing on the wall above Ari’s crib. The baby was unusually placid earlier. Their mommy-daughter twirl on the outside dance floor left the normally wide-eyed and wiggling three-month-old noticeably serene.
Turning onto her back, Summer stretched beneath the covers, flexing and pointing her toes. She threw her arms wide and took several deep breaths.
“Sleep is my friend. Sleep is my friend.”
Visualizing herself snug and asleep, she mig
ht have started to drift until Arnie pushed his way into her thoughts.
“Hey, babe. Wanna dance naked in the moonlight?”
She sat straight up in bed when the deep rumbling sexiness of Arnie’s voice woke her up but fast.
Envisioning a moonlight dance, she moved her eyes to the bedroom window and wished with all her might for it to come true.
The backyard floodlights were on a timer and had turned off earlier. The room-darkening drapes on her bedroom window were open, and moonlight streamed through the sheer pink curtains. The wall shadows came from the trees dotting the yards surrounding the back of the house. Sometimes, she could see the moonlight reflected off the pool water.
She wondered if anyone was genius enough to have a YouTube channel of nothing but night shadows.
If sleep was determined to elude her, she might as well get up. Maybe a decaf tea would help.
Swinging her feet off the bed, she slid on her bunny slippers and grabbed the robe off the end of the bed. The nighttime chill was real.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, she looked back to check on Ari. Her sweet little girl was a fan of snoozing—once she actually let sleep take her. Right now, she was completely relaxed with her little arms out like a starfish.
There was no need to turn on any lights in the living room. The big windows let in enough moonlight for her to navigate just fine.
Puttering mindlessly in the kitchen, she went about making tea by rote. The kettle was always filled with bottled spring water, so it was an easy flip of the switch to start the heating process.
Grabbing the spoon and mug she washed earlier from the dish drainer, she plunked them on the counter and reached for the canister with decaf tea sachets. She missed having extra strength tea or a good glass of wine. Until the baby stopped breastfeeding, she had no choice. She experienced a twinge of mommy guilt over her efforts to wean Arianne. She rejected breast milk and formula equally because for the most part, the little scamp would have no part of the fake nipple.
She snorted. Just like her daddy.
The kettle finished heating and turned off. As she poured the boiling water into the mug, something passed by her windows. The moving shadow shocked her, and she wobbled the kettle, spilling hot water on the counter.
Hopping back to avoid the scorching liquid, she muttered, “Shit,” and grabbed the dish towel to mop up the mess. The second she could, Summer looked up and searched the apartment windows. She hadn’t imagined the shadowy movement but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
A nagging worry made her even edgier than before. Without thinking her reasoning through, she dashed into the bedroom, went to the crib, and once she was assured of Ari’s safety, she swiftly reached behind the sheer curtains and closed the room-darkening drapes.
Was suddenly feeling exposed an overreaction? She didn’t know, but she was sure of one thing. Whatever she was picking up in the air had two distinct sides. One positive and protective but the other? Not so much.
28
“Great news,” Stan announced when he bustled into the house carrying a cardboard drink holder filled with Starbucks beverages. “Lynda called. Summer took an extra shift today and will be out of the apartment until dinnertime. We’ve been invited to take a look at the addition.”
They had access to Summer’s apartment? Arnie instantly forgot about the delivery of flooring he was inspecting and dropped the clipboard.
A double shot of nervous adrenaline fired up his system. He ran a hand through the hairpiece on his head and grimaced. He was an old man with a limp and a stoop. His whole existence felt surreal.
“I can’t,” he mumbled. “I’m not ready.”
Shoving a coffee into his hand, Stan openly mocked him with his expression.
“You’re not ready? What the hell does that even mean? You need more time to take off ten pounds before prom?”
The snarky zinger startled Arnie. He reacted as if he’d been slapped. Then he saw the humor in Stan’s comeback.
“I sound like a girl, huh?”
“Yep, and it’s all kinds of funny. I’m not used to seeing this side of you. You’ve always been self-assured and cocky as fuck. This quivering unsure hulk thing you’ve got going on is way entertaining.”
He flipped him off and took a slug of coffee. Admitting he didn’t exactly have his shit together nibbled on his confidence, but after all, Stan was along for this very reason.
“You’re gonna have to take the lead.”
“Don’t worry.” His brother chuckled. “I’ve told everyone to deal with me because you’re a grumpy old man deserving of a wide berth.”
There was a new, confident set to Stan’s shoulders. He was a man coming into his own, and Arnie was glad to have had a hand in his brother’s transformation.
“Aye, aye, Captain McGee. You have the conn.” Arnie saluted.
They kept busy through the morning with Stan lining up half a dozen work crews and specialty contractors to speed through the renovation.
The way the side-by-side driveways lay, Stan’s work truck blocked any view of Summer’s driveway, so he wasn’t able to see her get in her car. All he saw was the side view of her face as she backed out, and it was enough. Having her close by was what made the difference between him being totally mental and somewhat keeping it together.
About half an hour after she left, Lynda knocked on the side door, and he slid into his cover role.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered to Stan when his brother’s hand touched the doorknob. “Do I have a name?”
Their shocked faces mirrored each other. “Oops,” Stan replied. He paused for a moment, and said, “If it comes up, how about Fred? Simple, easy.”
“Done,” he agreed with a nod. Quickly backing off to let Stan have pole position, Arnie picked up a clipboard and tried to appear busy.
“Hey, Lynda,” Stan greeted their visitor and let her through the door. “Come on in. Just watch yourself. There’s stuff everywhere.”
Lynda Gerry walked in and immediately turned in a circle, taking in the whole place. She smiled. “This little house has so much potential.”
When her gaze found him, Arnie stiffened. There was no need to worry. This woman wouldn’t know him from Mickey Mouse, but he was emotionally overwrought by every little thing.
“This is my big brother, Fred. He’s the nuts and bolts guy on our team.”
What the fuck did those words even mean? He glanced at Stan and then at Lynda.
“Fred, say hello to Lynda Gerry. She’s going to show us the addition on the house next door.”
In a conveniently realistic way, the limp he rocked courtesy of falling on his ass beefed up his disguise. He put out his hand and greeted the woman. It was funny how she barely gave him a second look.
After a quick, “Hi,” she referred her comments to Stan and more or less dismissed Arnie. The smug expression on his brother’s face was priceless.
“If you gentlemen would like to see them, my husband, Bud, dug up the original plans for the addition. You could easily do something similar off the back of this place.”
Arnie tuned out the conversation. He had to. His heart was power thumping in his chest. The very idea of getting access to Summer’s apartment while she wasn’t home filled him with both dread and incredible excitement. He hated trampling on her privacy and to let himself off the hook hung his regret on the facts. He wouldn’t be doing any of this if it weren’t necessary.
Stan was a motor-mouth of schmooze and flattery. He oohed and aahed over everything. Lynda sucked it up like a sponge.
The moment they went through the gate of the wood privacy fence, Arnie was all business. He noted the blank space, barely a courtyard, and was concerned by a lack of visible security. At the very least, there should be a doorbell camera. You never knew who was brazen enough to walk through the gate.
Lynda opened the door and waved them inside.
“To the left of the vestibule are a laundry closet and the private entrance
to the main house. This is the guest apartment,” she explained, turning in the other direction with a wave at a white door decorated like a snowman.
The snowman was so Summer. Seasonal decorations are definitely something she’d enjoy.
More annoyance ate at his nerves when all it took to get into Summer’s place was a doorknob lock. The deadbolt wasn’t in use.
What the actual fuck? Her security was so lax she might as well be living in a tent at the back of the driveway.
He unconsciously let out a sigh of disgust and found himself on the receiving end of a scowl from Stan.
Lynda explained, “We originally built this for our daughter. After she got her degree, going from adult autonomy in a busy dorm to her childhood bedroom felt like a step in the wrong direction, so this arrangement was perfect. She had her own space and didn’t feel like she was under our thumb.”
“I take it she moved out and moved on?”
“She’s living her life—what every parent hopes for.”
Stepping into Summer’s apartment shook Arnie to his core. He could smell her, and everywhere he looked, there was evidence of her personality and spirit.
The door opened into a long rectangular space with large windows at the far end. To his immediate left was a kitchen with a modest island. Past the kitchen was the main living area. It wasn’t big—just enough room for a sofa set with a table and chairs under one of the windows.
“So the kitchen is my husband’s design. The tight footprint was a challenge, but he maximized the space with clever upgrades while keeping the appliances full size. Fridge, gas cooktop, and a combo appliance like you’d find in a deluxe RV. It’s a microwave and a convection oven.”
While Stan discussed the pros and cons of kitchen redesign with Lynda, Arnie wandered away. On the other side of the room, the long wall leading to the back of the apartment was painted with a dark toned colonial blue.
The first thing he noticed were baskets and bowls cluttered atop a long half-moon table sitting beneath a wall calendar. As he got closer and could make out the theme, he was shocked and pleased to see a New York Yankees monthly calendar. A bunch of smelly markers sat in one of the bowls.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 52