Sophia arched a brow and lifted one corner of her mouth. “That’s what they all say—at first.”
He smiled back. “I’ll bet they do.”
When he closed the door in her face, she stuck her tongue out, then sighed and took the elevator down to the first level. Maybe she could use a couple of days off, she thought. Not because she was tired—if anything, she was pumped. But she had a thousand things to do in the upcoming weeks and there was no time like the present to get started.
That thought had her smiling again. It wouldn’t take a moment to talk to Grady, she decided as she stepped off the elevator. She made her way through the still-crowded entry into the bar area. Joyce, one of the cocktail waitresses, was bussing the empty tables by herself.
“Grady around?” Sophia asked Joyce.
The perky, twenty-four-year-old design student, smiled at Sophia. “In the storeroom with Bronx, taking inventory.”
Frowning, Sophia glanced around the room. It was policy that at least one bartender and one waitress stayed until the room was cleared. “Who’s supposed to close with you tonight?”
“It’s okay.” Joyce quickly wiped down a table. “I’m almost done, anyway.”
Sophia folded her arms. “Who?”
“Nick.” Joyce dropped her gaze, then added, “But he didn’t leave, I think he just stepped out the back exit to get some air. Really, it’s okay.”
Sophia set her teeth. Raferty. She wasn’t sure why, she just had a bad feeling about the guy. With his rugged face and bad-boy attitude, the female clientele flocked to his station. In the two long weeks since Clay had hired the new bartender, the man had assembled himself quite a fan club. Even Joyce was trying to cover for him.
Sophia supposed she could understand the attraction. There was a certain…edge to Nick. An intensity that appealed to most women. Not that he appealed to her, of course. The man wasn’t at all her type. She wasn’t exactly sure what her type was, she just knew it wasn’t Nick Raferty.
She should be pleased as party punch over the guy. His sales were up twenty percent over any one else’s, he showed up for work on time and there’d been no complaints. So far he’d been the perfect employee.
But something kept niggling at her, especially since she’d found him in Grady’s private office, supposedly looking for a stapler, or so he’d said. She wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t believed him. Something in those dark eyes of his. Nothing she could put a finger on, just something. She’d tried to talk to Clay about the man, but he’d simply told her not to worry, that there was no problem.
But there was a problem. She was certain of it.
Maybe the problem was simply the fact that he distracted her. Kept her just a little off balance. Sophia didn’t like to be distracted and she definitely didn’t like to be off balance. That alone was reason to dislike the man.
And leaving Joyce by herself to clean up while he sneaked off to have a smoke or meet one of his groupies was inexcusable. She’d have a few words with Mr. Raferty herself, Sophia decided.
“I’ll finish up here,” Sophia told Joyce.
“But—”
“No arguing.” Sophia took the rag out of Joyce’s hand and tossed it on the table. “I know you’ve got a final next week and you need sleep. Now get out of here.”
Her teeth set and her back up, Sophia headed for the exit door, then stepped out into the hot night air, ready for a confrontation. When the alley appeared to be empty, she nearly stepped back inside, but then she spotted him kneeling in front of a row of trash cans.
Was he sick? Forgetting that she was angry, she stepped closer. “Nick? What’s wrong?”
The sound of his name echoed in the darkness. On a raw curse, he whirled. “Get back inside!”
What in the world…? Confused, Sophia stepped back, but it was too late. A shot rang out, and Nick crumpled to the ground.
Chapter 2
White-hot pain surged through Nick’s shoulder; the damp asphalt pressed against his cheek. His mind told him to move, but his body refused to cooperate.
“Nick, I swear, I didn’t mean to shoot. You just surprised me. Come on out and let’s talk.”
Nick blinked, let the words take shape in his brain. It took a moment for their meaning to register. At the touch of a hand on his back, adrenaline kicked in. Jerking upward, he grabbed the body attached to that hand and pinned it underneath his own.
“Get off me!”
Even in his dazed state, Nick recognized the body and the breathless voice as female. He blinked again, remembered that Sophia had stepped into the alley and given him away.
“What the hell is—”
He covered her mouth with his hand. “I’m undercover with DEA. Now keep quiet or we both die. Understand?”
That seemed to stop her struggling. Though he couldn’t see her face in the dark, he felt her nod.
“Nick, you okay?” Kurt called out, and Nick could tell the man was moving closer. “Let’s talk about this, face to face. You know how it is, buddy. I’m just building a retirement fund beyond the department pension. Four million dollars with just this one drop, pal. Look the other way and you’ve got yourself five hundred big ones. Take care of the woman and I’ll make it an even seven-fifty.”
Nick heard Sophia’s sharp intake of breath at Kurt’s offer. Slowly he released his hand and whispered in her ear, “If you want to live, do as I say.”
She nodded again, then he rolled off her and crouched behind the trash cans. “Take off your heels.”
“My heels?”
“Don’t argue with me, dammit,” he growled quietly.
Sophia slipped off her shoes and knelt beside him. He could feel her shaking, but he hadn’t the time or the inclination to lie to the woman and tell her if she stayed calm that she would be fine. It would take a miracle or one hell of a stroke of luck to survive this. Nick didn’t believe in either.
“Dammit, Kurt, let’s just get out of here.” Marcos’s voice had risen to a near whine. “I’m not going to be part of any murder. You never said anything about—”
Another shot rang out, then a strangled cry.
Then silence.
Sophia’s fingers clawed into Nick’s arm. He had to bite back the searing pain that tore through his shoulder.
“Seeing’s how my own profit just went up significantly, my offer to you is now a million,” Kurt said calmly. “Come on, Nick, it’s like winning the lottery. We pin the smuggling on Marcos, a spoiled rich kid with gambling debts, then we take the drop and who’s the wiser?”
Dammit. Nick knew he and Sophia were trapped. If they made a run for the door leading back into the bar, Kurt was close enough to easily pick them both off. At the moment the only thing saving their butts was the darkness and the wall of metal trash cans.
A movement to Nick’s left nearly had him lashing out, but he caught himself as the alley cat strolled out from the shadows, his back arched and tail swishing. Nick frowned at the feline, then turned his attention back to Kurt.
“We could use a good man like you, Nick.” Kurt’s voice was no more than six feet away. “A million, and that’s my final offer. But that’s just for starters. There’s another shipment in a few days that could set you up for life.”
Kurt stepped around the trash cans and pointed his gun directly at Nick. “Stand up, nice and slow.”
Nick stayed on his knees. “I’m hit.”
Kurt swung his gun toward Sophia. “You, up.”
Struggling to breathe and to keep her knees from collapsing underneath her, Sophia slowly rose. She hated guns. Had never even been close to one before, let alone have one pointed at her.
How was this happening? she thought wildly. One second life was perfect, then in the blink of an eye, it was over.
Not yet, she told herself. She’d never been a quitter, and dammit, she wasn’t about to start now. She glanced down at Nick, and even in the darkness, could see the dark stain spreading across his shoulder. He swayed
on his knees, and she worried that he was going to pass out. Stay with me, Nick, she urged mentally. If they were going to get out of this alive, she knew they needed each other.
Kurt slid a longing gaze up to Sophia. “Damn, but you are one fine woman.”
“And you’re scum,” Sophia spat, then cursed her own loose tongue. In spite of the fear consuming her, she was angry. Angry that Marcos, a man she’d trusted and considered a friend, had been using Steam to smuggle drugs right under her nose. Angry that her life was about to end because of bad timing and a dirty cop.
“At least I’ll be rich scum,” Kurt said with a grin. “And you’ll just be dead.”
“You’ll never get away with this.” She prayed she could reason with him. “My sister is married to Reid Danforth. They’ll find out the truth, no matter how long it takes.”
“Reid Danforth?” Kurt hesitated. “As in son of Abraham Danforth, who’s running for Senate?”
Hope flickered in Sophia. Everyone in Savannah had heard of the Danforths. They were old money and well connected. “You can walk away now, just disappear, and if you get lucky you won’t spend the rest of your useless life rotting in prison.”
“After I plant the evidence incriminating you and Marcos, the only thing rotting will be you.” Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ziplock bag filled with white powder. He tossed it at Sophia. “Pick it up.”
When she hesitated, he cocked his gun and his grin flattened. “Now.”
Sophia looked at Nick, prayed that he had some kind of an ace to play here. But the man was slumped forward, his head down, and she knew she was on her own. With no other option, she picked up the bag.
“So what do you say, Nick?” Kurt turned his attention back to Nick. “Are we partners or not?”
Sophia watched as Nick slowly lifted his head. His eyes were narrowed in pain, his mouth set in a hard line. “How about…not!”
When Nick’s arm swung forward, Sophia hadn’t time to breathe, let alone scream. An unearthly howl rent the air at the same time Kurt’s gun exploded. Then it was Kurt who was howling, grabbing at the snarling, spitting cat attached to his head.
“Let’s go,” Nick yelled, grabbing Sophia’s arm.
With their escape back into the club blocked by Kurt’s thrashing body, they had no where to go but down the alley. Sophia stepped on a rock and stumbled, but with Nick dragging her, she had no choice but to keep going.
A bullet struck the wall just above their heads; brick and mortar exploded like shrapnel.
“This way.” Sophia pulled Nick to the left when they made it out of the alley into the side street. She could see that he was already slowing down and he’d never make it around the building to the front of Steam where people might still be hanging out. She took the lead now, dragging Nick behind her into an underground parking structure.
“That’s my car,” she managed between breaths, pulling him toward the black BMW as she dug frantically through her purse for her keys.
“I’ll drive,” Nick said when Sophia yanked her keychain out.
Her hands shook as she unlocked the door and jumped in the front seat. “Like hell you will.”
With no time to argue, Nick slid in the front seat beside her. Five seconds later, with a screech of tires and the smell of rubber behind them, the car flew through the exit at the same time Kurt came running out of the alley.
“Get down!” Nick yelled when Kurt pointed his gun at them.
A bullet grazed the driver side mirror, shattering plastic and glass. Screaming, Sophia jerked the car toward Kurt and he leaped out of the way, falling backward as the BMW tore down the street.
“We’ve got to get you to Memorial.” Sophia swerved around a corner and headed toward the hospital.
“No.” Nick laid his head back against the leather seat. “He’ll expect that. He’ll find us.”
Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear over the roar in her ears. “So what if he finds us? We’ll be safe there, at least.”
“We aren’t safe anywhere.”
“I don’t understand.” Shaking her head, she white-knuckled the steering wheel. “What the hell just happened?”
“I’m on a DEA task force with the Savannah Police Department. We had information that a major drug deal was going down at Steam, but we didn’t know who the contact was. Kurt and I were working undercover.”
“You were working undercover, you mean,” Sophia said sarcastically. “It looks to me like Kurt was working you.”
Nick’s mouth pressed into a scowl. “Kurt must have found out that Marcos was the middleman and decided he wanted in on the deal himself.”
“So he would have just let the drugs come through?” she asked. “Turned his head, then collected two million dollars?”
“If I hadn’t walked out there tonight, no one would have ever known,” Nick said. “When nothing panned out at the club, the task force would just move on to the next operation.”
“Did Clay know about this?” She turned down a dark, residential street, nearly sideswiping a van parked at the curb.
“Slow down, would you?” Nick snapped. “We won’t get far if you crash the car. And yes, Clay was cooperating with us, but he was instructed not to discuss it with anyone.”
“I’m his manager.” She was yelling, but she didn’t care. “Are you saying I was a suspect?”
“You weren’t high on the list, but we hadn’t ruled anyone out, either.” He gestured to a church at the end of the street. “Pull into the parking lot behind that church and cut the lights.”
“I’m not pulling over anywhere.” She didn’t even look at him. “You’re bleeding, for God’s sake. We’ve got to—hey!”
Nick grabbed the wheel and yanked it sharply to the left, then jammed his foot over Sophia’s. The car swerved sideways, jumped the curb and swerved into the dark parking lot, out of view from the street.
“Are you crazy?” she yelled at him. “Do you want to get us both killed?”
He snatched the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll both be good as dead if you take me to a hospital. He’ll be waiting for us.”
“So what if he’s waiting?” It was all she could do not to grab Nick’s collar and shake him, but even in the darkness she could see how ashen his face was. “What can he possibly do in a public place?”
“With millions of dollars at stake, not to mention we’re witnesses to Marcos’s murder, Kurt will do whatever he has to do. There’s no way he’s letting us get away. Either he kills us, or sets us up to take the fall. Probably both.”
“Then call your department.” Sophia looked back over her shoulder. Even though the dark streets were empty, her nerves were running too high to relax. “Tell them you’re coming in.”
Nick shook his head. “Kurt was too confident, too sure of himself. And even after he killed Marcos, he said ‘we.’ He’s working with someone on the inside. I can feel it. There’s no telling who or how high up. I make the wrong phone call and we’re dead.”
“How is that possible?” Sophia pressed a shaking hand to her temple. It felt as if a hammer were pounding inside her skull. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
There was no humor in his laugh, only sarcasm. “Kurt’s spin on what happened will be that you and I were on the take together.”
“No one will believe that,” she argued. “Clay will back me up, and my family.”
“God, you are naive.” He sank back against the seat. “Kurt’s got your fingerprints on a bag of cocaine, and he’ll plant that and more evidence against you and me. It’s his word against ours, plus anyone else he buys off. And it won’t matter, anyway, because once he finds us, we won’t be around to talk. Our only chance is to lay low for a few days, figure out who he’s working with and flush them out.”
“A few days!” This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. In spite of the heat, Sophia felt chilled to the bone. “I can’t possibly do that.”
“You will
if you want to keep breathing. I need to think,” he said, closing his eyes. “Just…give me a minute…”
“No!” Sophia grabbed Nick’s head when it rolled to the side. “You are not doing this to me. Wake up, dammit!”
But he couldn’t hear her. She was on her own, and she didn’t have a clue what to do.
Chapter 3
The woman’s shrill scream jerked Nick awake. He sat up quickly, sucked in a breath at the lightning bolt of pain that exploded in his shoulder. When the second scream came, he realized it wasn’t a woman in distress. It was a bird.
A seagull.
A wave of nausea rolled through him, forcing him to close his eyes and lie back on the bed. He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten here. The only thing he felt fairly certain about was the fact that he was alive, and he figured even that wasn’t a sure bet.
When the nausea and pain passed, he opened his eyes again, blinked at the sunlight streaming through the double set of four-paned windows. It felt as if the room was moving, a room that was barely big enough for the bed and a side table, he noted. The vintage rose wallpaper had darkened with age, the hardwood floors were well-worn. A musty scent permeated the white sheet covering his naked body. And was that whiskey he smelled?
He spotted the bottle of Jack Daniels on the nightstand beside the bed, wondered briefly if he’d tied one on, but then the night before came rushing back. Kurt shooting him. The close escape with Sophia, parking behind the church. His memories ended there. He glanced at the tight, neat bandage wrapped around his shoulder, then slowly moved his arm to test the damage done.
His single swear word was as crude as the pain was sharp.
“Feeling better, I see.”
Through the stars dancing in front of his eyes, Nick glanced up at Sophia. She stood in the doorway, holding a coffee mug in her hand.
“I will be if that’s coffee you’ve got there,” he said, though the words came out rough and sluggish.
The black skirt and ruffled blouse she’d been wearing the night before were gone. She now wore gray workout sweats and a white tank top. Wisps of blond hair escaped from her ponytail; her face was free of makeup. And still she looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.
The Dare Affair: Summer In Savannah Anth. (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 6.5 Page 2