by Ellen Butler
“What?” I said defensively. “I’ve got other connections besides the FBI. They’re working on digging deeper.”
“I think we should go stake out that house tonight.”
I laughed. “No, thank you. What do you think you’re going to find? I doubt Karen will be back down there any time soon.”
“I’m telling you, this house is the key to Finley’s death,” he said dramatically with a clenched fist in the air.
“Okay, Sherlock, that’s a stretch. I’ll admit Finley was probably there. But, whoever owns the house didn’t hit him with the train. Don’t worry, we’ll find out more when we know who owns it. No need for a stakeout. Just patience.”
“Fine.” He released a big breath and stood. “We’ll do it your way. I’m going to get some coffee. You want any?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
An email notification binged. It was from Rick. The subject read SELF-DEFENSE CLASS. Clearly, he was as economical in his writing as his speaking. It provided an address, time, and had tomorrow’s date on it. He didn’t even have a fancy signature at the bottom. Just his name. Rick.
I responded in kind with one word: CONFIRMED.
Back atcha, Batman.
Afterward, I contacted two security companies and arranged for them to come out and provide quotes at the end of the week. Mike and Rick would be proud. As a matter of fact, I left a message on Mike’s cell, letting him know.
TUESDAY EVENING, I wove my way through the District into a dodgy warehouse neighborhood in Southeast. My GPS took me to a location that had me temporarily stymied. In front of me rose a large black iron gate, and behind it, a nondescript warehouse. It took me a few minutes to realize there was a callbox. I pressed the well-used, cracked yellow button.
“Yes?”
“I’m Karina Cardinal. Here for the self-defense class.” No response. “Rick sent me.” I smiled directly into the tiny camera and waved.
“On your left, use one of the visitor spots.” The disembodied voice sounded male, but was so distorted, it could have been female.
The big gate jangled as it rolled back, allowing me to drive through. I parked directly in front of the solid black double doors that read Silverthorne Security and slung my purse over my shoulder as I exited the car. Before I’d left my apartment, I’d changed into a pair of yoga pants, sneakers, and a pink T-shirt that read “PAs Do It Better.” One of the doors opened, revealing a scarred face I hadn’t see in a few months.
“Hello, Jin. Did you miss me?” Jin had been my driver when Silverthorne protected me in January.
The compact Korean delivered a blank stare and motioned me inside. A long, neutral-colored but brightly lit hallway laid in front of us like a big beige ribbon.
“Follow me.”
Jin also prescribed to the man-of-few-words motto. Whereas Joshua and I had formed a bond, I always felt Jin looked upon me as one would a pesky younger sibling. He also either didn’t like or get my humor, but I swore one day I’d make him laugh.
Three doors down and on our right, he knocked. Rick opened the door, and the smell of gym sweat and pine tree air freshener wafted into the hallway.
“You’re late.” Rick, already sweaty, wearing a black tank top and green camo cargo pants, waved me in.
“I got lost.”
I walked into a large fitness area with a variety of weight machines, free weights, two treadmills, a stair stepper, and a couple of stationary bikes. All the machines surrounded a square area of blue padded mats. It didn’t take me long to guess this was the sparring zone. Rick and I were the only ones in the gym.
“I thought this was a class.”
“It is.”
“Like, with other people.”
“Joshua will join us later.”
“And . . . I’m the only student?”
“Did you want to bring a friend?”
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting to be alone.”
“Do you feel uncomfortable, just the two of us?”
I surveyed the handsome guy in front of me with his furrowed brow and hard jaw. I hadn’t been afraid of him armed in my apartment. That had been my turf and he’d been dressed. Here, in his gym, his muscles exposed and shining with sweat, he looked . . . tough and dangerous. Having seen him in action, I knew how dangerous he could be.
“Jin is watching from the monitors.” He pointed to cameras in each corner of the room. That didn’t fill me with confidence. First, I wasn’t too sure of Jin’s feelings about my safety. Second, I didn’t like the idea of him watching me fall on my ass—although it might get him to laugh. “If you like, I can ask Josh to come in now.”
“You’re not going to beat the shit out of me, like they do in boot camp, are you?”
That half-smirk broke through, and his gaze lightened. “No. If I teach you properly, I’ll be the one sporting bruises.”
“Where do we start?” I tugged the scrunchie off my wrist and pulled my hair into a ponytail.
He had me warm up on the stationary bike for fifteen minutes before guiding me over to the sparring mats.
“We’ll start simple. Make a fist.”
I balled up my hand the way the Tae Bo guy did on the DVD. Sometimes I would work out to it when I couldn’t get to the gym or yoga class.
“That’s good. At least you know how to make a proper fist. Now, hit me.” He held up a padded catcher’s mitt thingy that I’d seen in boxing movies.
I eyed up the mitt and threw a punch like I did for the Tae Bo work out. “Heaw!” It made a nice sounding thwack. Rick’s arm absorbed the shock and barely moved.
“Not bad. Now, first lesson, when you are punching, I want you to punch through the target.” He must have noticed my confused look because he continued, “Have you ever played golf?”
“No, but I’ve watched it on TV.”
“Okay, when the pros are teeing off for a drive, you start with the backswing coming fully up behind.” He demonstrated. “Then down, connecting with the ball, but they don’t stop there. They finish the swing, pulling it forward.”
“Yes. I get it. I’ve seen Tin Cup. If you don’t swing through, it looks unfinished, and you may not get enough power to get the ball as far as you want.”
“Exactly.” He seemed pleased. “Same with a punch. Pull back, then hit me as though you are pushing that fist through the target.”
“Okay. Got it. More power.” I screwed up my mouth, concentrated on the pad, looked past it to Rick’s shoulder, and, channeling my inner golf goddess, I pulled my arm back and let it fly. Crunch. Using another golf term not seen on the pro circuit, I whiffed, completely missing the pad. And, swinging too high, my fist connected with his jaw.
He recoiled and grunted.
“Holy shit. I’m sorry, are you okay? Crap, I guess I should have warned you, my aim isn’t the best. Do you need some ice? Do you want me to go find Jin? I didn’t break it, did I?”
He rubbed his jaw and watched me as I babbled. “Not bad, Cardinal. You put the power of your arm and shoulder into it.”
“I’m really sorry. Maybe you should put on one of those boxing helmets. Are you going to charge me extra for hitting you?”
“The helmet isn’t a bad idea until we get your aim corrected. However, I suspect you’ve made my staff’s night with that sucker punch. I don’t doubt they’re laughing their asses off at my expense.”
“I’m not sure. Does Jin know how to laugh?”
At that, Rick busted up. It was better than watching an SNL cast member break character. The smile transformed his face into something less dangerous, almost inviting, and I finally relaxed. Rick added some more padding to his body, and we continued the punching lessons. At the bottom of the hour, he added some kicking, teaching me to aim for the knees and shinbone. Of course, the knee to the groin, a well-known woman’s defense, we also practiced. With Rick in body padding and the family jewels encased and properly insulated, we only did that exercise twice. Rick assuring me after the
second time that a kick to the balls was a skill I didn’t need additional practice for. At least, not on a live target.
At the end of the night, I put a finger to his reddened jaw, and he hid a slight wince. “I told you we should have had Jin bring you some ice,” I said with consternation. “I have a feeling it’ll be bruised by morning.”
“Maybe.” He handed me a clean white towel and a bottle of water. “The Tae Bo has served you well. You did good work tonight.”
I tossed the towel over my shoulder and sucked down half the water in a few quick gulps. “Thanks,” I said, coming up for air. “When is my next lesson?”
“I’ll email you some dates and times.”
The door opened and Joshua lumbered into the gym. “Angus tracked down the shell company.” He held out a sheet of paper for Rick.
“You’re sure?” Rick’s brows heightened.
“As sure as Angus can be.”
“Well, Cardinal,” he said as he turned to me, “the owner of your waterfront house is—"
“Wait, let me guess,” I interrupted, “J & P Pharmaceuticals.”
“No, Teason Medical.”
“Huh.” My confidence drooped. “That’s not what I was expecting. You’re sure it was Teason?”
“So it would seem.”
“Isn’t their headquarters located in Jersey?”
“I believe so.”
“Huh. They are one of the big pharmaceutical companies. The question is, why do they own a home down there?”
“The paperwork didn’t specify.”
“And you’re sure there wasn’t a poker game on Thursday?”
“I can double-check.”
“Do, please. If Finley wasn’t there for the card game, then considering our last conversation, I want to know what the hell he was doing down there.” Like a Tetris board, the blocks began falling in place, and I didn’t like the design they were making. Nor did I care for those pesky holes of outstanding questions now filling my brain.
“You need to be careful.” Joshua crossed his arms.
“Oh, I will. Don’t worry about me.” That quip drew deep frowns from the pair. “Hey, I know how to defend myself now.” I flashed a grin to lighten the mood.
Neither face changed.
“You’re an amateur, no match for a pro,” Josh asserted.
Cheekily, I taunted, “Try me.”
Josh had always treated me with offhand amusement and occasional concern. A flash of irritation flared across his features, and, before I knew what happened, he had me pinned on the mat, my ears ringing.
“Jeez,” I wheezed.
He pulled my body into a sitting position. “Breathe in slowly. It’ll come back. There you go. That’s it. Don’t panic.”
Finally, the fish-like gasping stopped as the blessed, sweat-sock-and-forest-scented oxygen refilled my lungs. In and out. In and out. The mantra repeated. I’d never had the wind knocked out of me before. The experience was deeply disturbing, and one I never wanted to repeat.
I glanced past his shoulder to Rick. “You were taking it easy on me.”
“I was teaching you. An attacker won’t be teaching. Josh gave you a tiny taste of what a professional like Rivkin can do. You’re not dealing with a street thug that you can evade by smacking him over the head with your purse. We’ll practice more defensive, attack and evasion tactics at our next session, and work on your reaction time.”
A trail of water strewed across the mat from the bottle that had flown out of my hand when Josh took me down.
“I’m not cleaning that up.” I pointed to the mess.
Rick crouched to eye level. “Cardinal, whatever you’re into, I don’t like the looks of it.”
Finally, I’m not the only one with misgivings scratching at my conscience.
“I want you to share this information with your FBI friend, and stop nosing around. You need to leave it to the professionals.”
Where had I heard that before? Were Rick and Mike connected via ESP? “Sure thing.”
“Why don’t you call him now?” Josh’s muscles rippled as he stood and held out a hand to help me. I stared at those stout digits, a bit afraid of the easy-going blond bear. Even though I knew Josh had been a former SEAL, I never expected he would use that kind of violence against me. Lesson learned.
“Now?”
“No time like the present,” Rick agreed.
Giving in, I allowed Josh to pull me to my feet. “Next time, you’ll be ready.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “Now make that call.”
“Fine.” I retrieved the cell out of my handbag lying on the edge of the mat. As expected, the phone call went straight to voicemail. “Hi, Mike, it’s K.C. Listen, there’s been a development in the case that I think you should know about. Call me.” I hung up and turned to the men. “Happy?”
“How long before he normally returns your calls?” Rick asked.
I shrugged. “He’s currently out of town, on assignment.”
Rick’s brows caterpillared together. “When does he get back?”
“No idea. Could be tomorrow. Could be in two weeks.”
The men shared a look.
Joshua shifted. “Do you have another FBI contact?”
“I suppose I could figure out how to contact Director McGill. I believe I have his card at home.”
“And he is . . .”
“The lead for the taskforce on Harper’s case. You think this is time sensitive?”
“Not sure. It seems squirrelly,” Rick admitted.
“I feel it too. So does Rodrigo.”
Rick pinched his chin. “Rodrigo?”
“My coworker. We were together when we saw Karen Ferngull leave that house. She used to work for J & P Pharmaceuticals. She’s currently deputy secretary at HHS. It’s the reason why I wanted you to check it out.”
Another look passed between the two.
Joshua turned back to me. “Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so. Why? What’s that look?”
“Nothing.” Rick rubbed the towel across his face. “Just . . . be careful. When are you getting the alarm system installed?”
“I have meetings with the two companies you recommended on Thursday and Friday.”
“Good. Joshua will show you out.”
Jin waited in the hall when we exited, a ten-dollar bill pinched between his first and middle fingers.
“Told you.” Josh smirked and snatched it.
I stopped in my tracks. “What’s this all about?”
Jin delivered one of his signature frowns. “I made a bet that you’d land a hit on Josh.”
“Wait a minute. So, you planned that take down? Was it some kind of joke?”
“No joke. Part of your training. Jin thought you’d land a sucker punch, like you did Rick. He played the odds against your naiveite and inexperience and lost. I also played on your trust in me.” Josh threw the comments over his shoulder as he headed toward the door.
My mouth flattened, and eyes went into squint mode as I glared at his back. Jin’s frown disappeared and he winked. I had to do a quick jog to catch up behind Josh.
“Never bet against me, my friend.”
It was a dirty trick I hadn’t pulled since my middle school years, when it had been in fashion. As he picked up his right foot, I swept it, so his boot got caught behind his left calf. Generally, the ploy would only make the walker stumble a little bit and look clumsy. But the cheap shot in the gym and bet with Jin at my expense had my blood boiling. It only took a little push from behind and down went Josh with an “oof”, his hands flailing as they reached out to break his fall. Adults fall a lot harder than a skinny middle school kid. I winced as his palms smacked to the ground and may have felt a teensy bit of regret as Josh’s angry eyes flashed at me.
Jin’s bark of laughter filled the hallway, temporarily distracting the two of us. The mirth made his long scar, from eye to chin, scrunch and pucker, but the sound of delight and
even, white teeth offset the ugliness of the mark.
I danced away from Josh’s grasping fingers and scooped up the tenner that had flown from his hand when he fell. “I believe this belongs to Jin.”
The gym door flew open and Rick stepped out, taking in Jin’s amusement and Josh on the floor. “What’s going on?”
Lickety-split the tenner disappeared in my bra. “Testing a theory. I was wrong, Jin does know how to laugh.”
Jin staggered against the wall at that.
I offered my hand to Josh who’d gotten to his knees by now. “Shall we call it even?” I murmured.
He glanced back at his buddy hooting like a wild dingo, and I witnessed a genuine grin splay across his features. “Even.” He took my hand and climbed to his feet.
Really, Jin’s laughter was like none I’d heard before, and I couldn’t help giggling along with it. Soon Josh joined in. Rick watched our merriment with crossed arms and bemusement.
Finally, the chortling dissipated and Jin pointed at me. “You’re okay, Cardinal,” he said before disappearing behind one of the nondescript doors lining the hall.
With a shaking head, Rick returned to the gym, and a few minutes later Josh held the driver’s side door of my car for me.
Turning before climbing inside, I pulled the money out of my bra. “Give this back to Jin.”
“Keep it. You earned it.”
My brows rose. “For taking you off guard?”
“For making Jin laugh. In the two years I’ve worked with him, I haven’t heard so much as a snigger. As a matter of fact, you managed to make every man in this building smile, and not just in appreciation of your ass. That doesn’t happen often.”
“Glad I could be of service,” I said drily.
His face turned serious. “Take care of yourself, Karina.”
I hesitated getting in. “What aren’t you and Rick telling me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You shared a look.”
“We don’t like Rivkin mixed up in all of this.”
“You think Finley’s and Harper’s deaths are related?”
“Do you?”
“I do now.” I slid into the front seat and grabbed the door.
Josh held it open. “You have my number?”