by Barr, Sue
“No. I didn’t have to. He stepped on a few toes within his own organization and they retired him early. I have to finish the assignment I’m on right now and then there’s nothing stopping me from laying it all out on the table with Shelby.”
Polly gave him a thoughtful look, tapping the side of her paper cup with a fingernail. “Good, because I don’t like keeping secrets from her and this has been a whopper. As it is she’ll probably hate me because I knew before she did.”
“She’d never hate you. You’re the sister she never had.”
Polly finished her last bite of donut and stood. “Well, I’d give her my sister anytime. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go freshen up and wash my hands. They’re sticky.” She proceeded down hall toward the powder room.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Tank edged around the desk, grabbed the mouse and brought up her computer desktop. Quickly scanning the screen, he noted the printer icon on the bottom right. This could only mean that Polly had recently used the printer.
Taking a chance she would be a few more minutes, he minimized the screen again and checked out the printer. A single sheet lay in the tray. A quick glance confirmed the document was a flight reservation and without looking too closely, he snapped a picture with his phone. By the time Polly returned to the reception area and her desk, he was sitting on the corner of it, finishing his coffee.
She settled back into her chair and sipped her coffee. “So, what are you really here for Tank?”
“Just wondering what Shelby’s up to. Wanna fill me in?”
Polly shook her head. “You know I can’t.”
“I didn’t think you would, but hey, I had to try.” He looked at his watch and noticed it was almost one o’clock. “Man, where has the day gone? I gotta go. See you around.” He tossed his empty cup in a perfect arc, directly into the trashcan. He flashed a grin at Polly. “Two points for me.”
Polly laughed and waved him out of the office. Once outside, he opened his phone and scanned the photo he’d taken. What he saw almost stopped his heart. It was now official. Shelby would send him to an early grave.
Cursing under his breath, he flipped back to his phone application and dialed his office. “Get the jet ready, I have to go to L.A.” He checked his watch, “I’ll be at the airport in a half-hour.”
His second call was to L.A. “Dango. We have a situation. I’ll be there in about three hours. Meet me at the safe house near the condo we set up as a shell for Harry, and I’ll brief you.”
He closed his phone and straddling his bike, throttled it to life.
You don’t know what you’re getting into, Shelby.
It was time to rein her in. This situation was escalating out of control. Shelby didn’t know what was at stake and would get hurt if she wasn’t careful. What made her think to go to L.A.? Raymond Grant must have let something slip. Tank slid on his shades and roared toward the private strip where the company plane waited.
He and Dango would stake out the condo. Knowing Shelby as well as he did, that would be one of the first places she’d go and he’d contain the situation once he got there. He hoped.
Chapter Eight
The airport in L.A. hummed with a steady cacophony of noise and people. Continually jostled from all sides, my head throbbed and I felt like a Mac truck had run over me. To top it all off, I found myself at a car rental place arguing over what my fifty dollars would get me for the day, which was almost over. This junior management executive, future pea-brain of some Fortune 500 company was adamant I pay full price.
Having no patience for this nonsense I decided it was time to bring out the big guns.
Pretending to be super-duper hot, I unzipped my hoodie and exposed the rounded tops of the ‘girls’. I fanned myself with one of his pamphlets and channeled Polly. With a breathy twang, I sighed out, “Whooey! I’m not used to all this heat.”
He gulped so hard I thought he’d get whiplash from his Adam’s apple. I fluffed and squeezed, got great cleavage, then resumed negotiations. “So…” I looked at his nametag. “Marvin. Where were we?”
He never knew what hit him. Twenty minutes later I wheeled out of the airport parking lot driving a sporty Jeep truck with two days of unlimited mileage for thirty-five dollars. I had no qualms using my ‘assets’ to get what I needed.
Within reason.
Before checking into the hotel I cruised around looking for a good costume store. I didn’t know who else may be looking for Harrison so I wanted to be almost invisible to anyone staking the place out. I figured I’d go with a hooker ensemble. No one noticed streetwalkers. They became part of the scenery and you only saw them when they let you. Also, Harry was known to have liked cheap tarts and I would just be another girl from the street.
I almost missed the costume place. A tacky little shop, it lay tucked between two taller buildings that leaned toward each other like a couple of drunken sailors. Next earthquake, even a 2.0, would make them topple. How they passed safety inspections baffled me. With that thought in mind, I rushed in, bought what I needed and got out of there.
In case the front desk clerk of my hotel spotted me, I changed in the main floor bathroom and then slipped out one of the back exits. A big wig, passion-pit red lipstick, tight dress, and three-inch stilettos completed my disguise. The nightlife of downtown Hollywood was vibrant and I blended in beautifully.
****
Driving slowly down the street, I kept a sharp eye out for Harrison’s address. Big palm trees, flashy cars and the brilliance of neon lights distracted me. Getting lost would have been easy. The streets became narrower and more dingy the closer I got to his address.
Most hookers didn’t own sport utility vehicles, so I parked a few blocks from Harrison’s apartment building, down a narrow back alley. Before getting out of my vehicle I made sure I had the key to Harrison’s apartment and a can of pepper spray in my purse. Not wanting to lose my hotel swipe card and driver’s license, in case someone mugged me, I locked them into the glove box.
Feigning nonchalance, I casually strolled to Harrison’s apartment building, unlocked the front door and entered. No one noticed me and I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and moved to the elevator. I pressed the up key a few times before noticing a sign with sloppy letters advising the elevator was broken and a hand drawn arrow pointed to a door at the end of the hall and fire escape.
Fortunately for me, Harrison lived on the second floor. There was no way I could have walked six or seven stories in these shoes and I wasn’t taking them off for anyone. I had no idea who or what had been on these stairs, or who had done what in this stairwell.
I reached his apartment and after struggling with the lock, pushed open the door. Surprisingly, Harrison’s condo was spacious and bright. And I mean very spacious, as in empty. Not a dish, curtain, or stick of furniture.
Clacking my way into the kitchen in my stilettos—who makes these shoes anyway?—I grabbed the first drawer and pulled it open. Peering into it didn’t reveal anything taped against the counter top so I gingerly felt under each and every drawer (all four of them). Please don’t let there be a spider. And I cringed a lot, not wanting to touch anything I might regret.
Maybe there was something in the bathroom. In the movies, there were always packages of important papers wrapped in protective plastic. But no hidden surprises there either and his bedroom contained no clues. I made my way back to the living room and stood, hands on hips, surveying the apartment as a whole. It looked like no one had lived here in a long time.
Harrison’s mysterious disappearance had taken an interesting turn. When you eliminated everything probable all that’s left was the improbable. It was beginning to look like Harrison had been moved…by experts. The question remained—willing or unwilling?
The second probability, and the one I suspected as bang on, was that Harrison had never lived here. This place was cleaner than a brand new whistle. A complete dead-end and I had no idea what to tell th
e Grants. I decided to go back to the hotel. Tomorrow I’d try to find some hookers who knew Lulu and with any luck, Harrison.
Carefully I re-locked the apartment and exited the building. I’d gone only a few steps when a familiar flashing red light bounced off the grimy walls of the adjoining building. Sure enough, I turned around and an unmarked squad car glided to a stop, the little flashing light perched precariously on the dash. Must be a quiet night if I’m the one they’re stopping and not the actively working ladies of the night. But then again, I was a new girl on this street and they could just be checking me out. I waited for the cop to get out of his car.
A rugged plain-clothes cop unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, a badge clipped to his belt. The subdued lighting in the alley made it difficult to see if anyone else was with him. The cop approached with a polite smile on his face.
“Do you have identification, ma’am?” he said with a pleasant Australian accent.
“No, I don’t have any on me, officer, it’s in my vehicle.” I tried my best to be demure. Hard to do when the dress left nothing to the imagination, but the last thing I needed was to cause trouble and bring attention to myself.
“Would you please face the wall and keep your hands where I can see them.” I shrugged, turned around and waited… and waited. I looked from side to side. Jose loves Maria was scrawled on the side of a building in broad loopy letters. Some kind of green goo slid down the wall from a second story window. I did not want to know what it could be.
As I shifted from one foot to the other, the balls of my feet aching in these stupid shoes, I head a car door open and a heated, whispered conversation. I strained everything I had to hear what they were saying. The car door opened and closed again.
The cop cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to take you downtown.”
Why would Crocodile Dundee what to take me downtown?
I turned and faced him. “For what cause? Wearing uncomfortable shoes?”
He took my arm at the wrist and elbow and led me to the back of the cruiser.
“Wait, what about my rights?” A bubble of panic rose in my throat and I tugged against his grip. What if he wasn’t a cop and this was an elaborate ruse to kidnap me into a sex trade ring? The unmarked car looked legit, but anybody could buy a flashing red light and slap a fake badge onto their belt.
“We’ll discuss that at the station.” He took a firmer hold on my arm.
Tugging again I said, “This is wrong. You have no grounds.”
I tried to twist and grab my purse which kept swinging out of reach. My intention was to pull out the pepper spray, but we’d reached the car.
“I could say you’re resisting arrest and causing a disturbance. Now be quiet and get in the car.” With his hand covering the back of my head so it wouldn’t bang the doorframe, he pushed me into the rear seat. Stunned, I could only watch as he climbed into the front of the car.
What just happened? My heart hammered in my chest a million miles per minute. Why hadn’t I screamed? Why hadn’t I done a more defensive move and disabled him? I shifted to plead with his partner and smelled peppermint.
“Get me out of this car, now!” I pulled on the door handle, as well as kicked the back of the seat where Tank sat. “What gives you the right?”
Anyone watching from the streets would have thought they had a real hooker in the back. The air boiled with the kind of language that would have made a sailor blush. We drove three or four blocks before backtracking to the alley where my rental was parked and I screeched like a fishwife the whole way. The unmarked cruiser stopped beside my truck.
Furious over this new turn of events, I think I had a mental breakdown. I watched Tank get out of the car and come around to open my door. A red haze misted over my eyes and in slow motion I reached into the purse, closed my hand around the little silver canister of pepper spray. Seething, I waited, index finger twitching on the nozzle.
He leaned down and held out his hand to help me out of the back of the car. Whipping out the can of pepper spray, I hit the button. Instead of a broad mist, a thin stream squirted out and hit him beside the eye. Tank instinctively stumbled back, which gave me a chance to push by him and make a run for my car. As I fumbled with the purse to find my keys, I realized— too late—I was running in three-inch stilettos.
The sound of pounding feet echoed behind me. Air whooshed out of my lungs when he tackled and twisted mid-air so I wouldn’t get crushed when we landed. My legs swung in an arc, like a pendulum. One shoe sailed through the air, landing somewhere past the back of my vehicle. We hit the ground with a thud and he flipped again, pinning me under his body. I pushed the wig out of my eyes and wriggled around until I lay on my back.
His red-rimmed green eye watered where the spray had caught, and a muscle clenched along his jaw line. The only tell-tale sign he was angry. Maybe beyond angry. Any sane person would be. I’d doctored his drink not more than twenty-four hours ago, called him every vile name I could think of, pepper sprayed him, and tried to run away.
When he released his hold and stood, I fully expected him to berate me like a child. I almost didn’t accept the hand he held out.
“You all right, mate?” His buddy called out from the cruiser as I rose to a standing position.
Without turning, Tank nodded. “Yup. Thanks, Dango.”
I pulled my hand from Tank’s grip. “What is this all about?”
I heard the Dundee’s car reverse and he left us there to scrap it out. Smart cop.
“I figured you were up to something, so I talked to Polly.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I flew here and waited. We thought we’d give you a scare, teach you a lesson.”
“I didn’t need to be taught a lesson. You don’t have to babysit me.” A slow boil of anger started in my belly. I stepped back, continuing to brush and pick garbage off my clothes.
“Are you sure? Dango’s eyes almost popped out of their socket. What are you doing in this outfit anyway?”
“Harrison likes call girls. I figured neighbors wouldn’t notice a new hooker going to his place.” I shrugged my shoulders. “You know, hide in plain sight.”
Realizing I had only one shoe on, I removed the strappy, torture device and looked around for the other one. It probably was in the pile of garbage behind my car. No way would I go back there to find it. There could be rats, or worse – spiders. The shoe could rot there.
Tank uncrossed his arms and took a step in my direction. Anger rolled off him in waves. “You could have gotten hurt. What if it hadn’t been me in that car? What if it had been some psycho jerk wad who had his paws all over you? Did you even think about that?” His voice grew louder. “You need a handler.”
The anger within bubbled up a bit more. There was no way I’d tell Tank those very same thoughts crossed my mind.
“I don’t need anybody,” I yelled back, jutting my chin forward. The wig fell into my eyes again, which proved to be the last straw. Mount Shelby erupted. Every frustration, every hurt I’d suffered because of him coursed through my voice. I pushed the wig out of my eyes and we stood toe to toe, nose to… sternum.
“I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing great since you left.” We both knew I meant more than my job and this recent escapade.
“You still need a handler!” Tank bit out.
I shook my head and turned toward my vehicle. Truth be told, what happened in the alley had scared me right down to the bottom of my sore feet.
I’d go back to the hotel, call Polly and check in. Tomorrow I’d locate some hookers who may have known Lulu and Harry. And then—I paused in my thoughts—then I was having my head examined.
“I’m outta here.” I called over my shoulder to Tank. He could find his own way back to wherever it was he was staying.
He muttered behind me, “Well, if that’s the way it’s got to be, then okay.”
I didn’t even have a chance to squeak before I was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of f
lour, one large hand spread across my derriere. He rifled through my purse, which swung with each angry stride and pulled out the car keys. Before cramming his big frame into the driver’s side, he unceremoniously dumped me into the passenger seat. He stopped only long enough to ask me where I was staying and then revving the motor, tore up the alley and raced toward my hotel.
****
The desk clerk’s jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide when we barreled through the lobby. Tank, grim-faced, carried the back pack and I stomped alongside barefoot. One shoe dangled from my fingers, the other lay forgotten in the alley. Hotel guests stared openly and gave us a wide berth. Probably because we looked like a hillbilly wedding gone bad.
The ride in the elevator was strained, to say the least, and after I unlocked the door I stormed into the room, not caring if Tank followed. He threw my bag on the bed and I made a beeline for the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.
Standing in front of the mirror I stared at my reflection. The wig lay twisted to one side, looking like a bird’s nest with twigs and bits of paper sticking out and the garish makeup had rubbed off in patches. I stripped, throwing the clothes in the garbage while waiting for the tub to fill. Once it was ready I slid into the hot water and lay there, staring at the ceiling.
As I scrubbed the makeup off my face, turning the white cloth into a rainbow of colors, I thought about Tank. He’d been sending off so many mixed signals, I had no idea what he was doing or where I stood with him. It was frustrating how he magically turned up wherever I went.
I sat up, water splashing over the side of the tub. How did he get to Harrison’s place before me? Closing my eyes, I recalled what he said in the alley. He said he’d been waiting and watched me go into Harrison’s building. He also said he was at my office when Polly booked my flight and I knew he hadn’t been on the same flight, because I’d looked. How did he get to L.A. so fast? The only plausible answer was private transportation.
Fast, expensive transportation.
Now I itched in my don’t-wanna-itch-place.