by Diane Bator
"Threatened you?" Gilda's mouth dropped open. "You're the one with the gun."
Marion shook her head. "Besides, he knows us better than that."
"Are you sure?" Mena smiled. "It'll be your word against mine. Who do you think he'll believe? The ex-girlfriend who physically assaulted him or me?"
Considering Mena wore a very low-cut blouse, skin-tight blue jeans, and heels that gave her a four-inch height advantage, Gilda was fairly sure she wouldn't stand a chance at convincing any man of her innocence, especially Thayer.
"Fine, we'll leave." Marion blew out a sharp breath. "But you have some really lousy customer service skills. When you finally open this dump, we're boycotting it."
Mena groaned. "Get out."
Marion led the way back to the beach and ordered another hot dog. "I don't like her."
"Yeah, well, don't let her get you down." Gilda sat on her usual weather-beaten log, absorbed in thought. "Mena did say something interesting. She talked about Nigel being a wrestler and an MMA fighter."
"Yeah. So?"
Gilda thought about the photograph she'd seen so many times lately, the image etched into her brain. "I wonder if he ever fought Kane?"
"Google it," Marion said around a mouthful.
"Good idea." She smiled. "Do you want to go see if Kane and Mick are still training?"
Marion leaped to her feet before she'd even swallowed. "Let's go."
While Marion sat on the floor in the doorway of the dojo, watching the men and drooling as she finished her second soda, Gilda turned on the computer to search Nigel's name. Image after image of the younger man in various octagons appeared.
After a couple minutes, Gilda found exactly what she was looking for. The same image of Kane and the others she'd studied before. This time she looked past everyone to the two people in the background. Charlie and a much younger version of Nigel. She'd seen him a couple times but hadn't recognized him as the figure in black and white trunks until now.
Nigel Trava was the mysterious fighter Mick and the others had spoken about but never named. The one who'd fought Kane and lost. "Holy crap."
Marion chuckled. "I know. He's good isn't he?"
Gilda went back to her search for Nigel Trava but came to a dead end. Beyond five years ago, there seemed to be no one by that name who matched his description. She sat back and frowned, sure the photo she'd printed off depicted a much earlier match. Kane's opponent in that fight was listed as an up-and-comer named Travis Legin. On a hunch, she plugged Travis Legin into the search engine but came up with nothing. No fights. No records. Nothing.
She wrote down both the names Nigel Trava and Travis Legin then frowned. Legin was Nigel spelled backward. Why would someone use a stage name in an amateur fight?
Gilda gave up on the Internet and sat next to Marion. The list of questions she had for Mick and Kane had now grown longer than the length of the dojo. Unfortunately, once their training ended, both men left for lunch. Marion followed the men, leaving Gilda with her computer and wild imagination.
When Nigel walked into the martial arts school later that afternoon, Gilda nearly fell off her chair. "What can I do for you?"
"Um…hello." He rubbed a hand over his bald head and shuffled his feet. "I'm meeting Kane Garrick here. Do you know him?"
"You know she does, mate. You also know you shouldn't be here." Kane blew around the corner as if he'd been waiting. He must have snuck in through the back door while she was immersed in her search. "Gilda, my love, hold my calls, will you?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
Both men left the lobby without a response. Seconds later, a door closed. Gilda sat behind her desk for several seconds, muscles twitching, as she debated whether to follow them. Finally, she jumped from her chair and ran across the lobby toward Mick's office.
The voices behind the door were so muffled she could only make out the odd word. "Charlie," "murder," and "drugs" were among the few she understood. She touched her right ear to the wooden door and strained to hear more.
Nigel raised his voice. "I'm telling you it wasn't my fault."
Kane snorted. "Well, don't try to pin it on me, mate. I had better things to do that night."
"Oh yeah?" Nigel asked. "Steroids or uppers?"
Gilda's eyes widened, waiting for an outburst from Kane.
"What are we listening to?" Mick whispered into her left ear.
She let out a short shriek before he covered her mouth and hustled her away from the office door. Only once they were behind her desk did she look him in the eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Mick laughed. "I work here. Who's in my office?"
"Kane and Nigel. They were talking about drugs."
His eyebrows rose. "How do you know Nigel?"
She frowned. "That's all you're worried about? Wait, how do you know Nigel? Most people didn't even seem to know Charlie had a bodyguard."
Mick flinched. "We've met a few times."
"Yeah? Then you already knew he's Mena's brother and an MMA fighter."
"I did." His jaw twitched as he swallowed hard. "How did you find out?"
Gilda glossed over the details. "Mena introduced us."
"Oh, that's just great. Promise me you'll keep away from him. He and Mena together make Gary look like a Girl Scout." He paused and ran one hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry I've kept so many secrets from you lately. I thought you'd be safer not knowing what was really going on."
Gilda's eyes welled with frustrated tears. "Yeah, well, considering my house has been ransacked, my yard looks like I have a gopher infestation, and Mena held a gun on me earlier today, I think we're past the point of me being safe."
"Mena held a gun on you?" He grabbed her by both shoulders. "When?"
Gilda winced. "When Marion and I stopped by her new store at lunchtime today. She wasn't happy to see us."
Mick paled and covered his eyes with one hand. "You're right. We need to sit and talk."
"Yeah, you've done everything you can to avoid that conversation." An awkward silence fell over them until Gilda cleared her throat. "So, what now?"
He bowed his head. "First, I bust up the meeting in my office and get a few answers, then you and I will talk."
"You promise?" A lone tear escaped down her cheek.
Mick hugged her. "I promise. No more secrets, Sherlock. We'll get to the bottom of this together. Find out everything you can about Nigel Trava and his sister."
She raised her eyebrows, not about to tell him she already had. "Mena? But I thought you'd known her for years?"
"I have, but only on a… superficial level," he said. "Knowing you, you'll find out a lot more than I know."
Gilda hesitated. "Like how Nigel Trava fought Kane as Travis Legin years ago?"
Mick raised his eyebrows then grinned. "You have been busy."
When Mick walked away toward his office, Gilda returned to the computer to wait for him. There were still two questions on her mind she really wanted the answer to: Who was Mena Trava and what was she selling out of the Healing Spirits Gift Shop?
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Fabio's going to be livid when he finds out we're here." Gilda set a bottle of wine and two plastic glasses on the coffee table.
Mick shrugged. "I doubt it. He suggested we come here."
"Why's that?" She uncorked the wine. "Did he bug the house or something?"
"Maybe." Mick opened the pizza box on the table, releasing the comforting aroma, then curled next to her on the couch, while police officers sat in a patrol car outside her house. "What do you say we give him an earful?"
"Not until you start talking." Gilda scowled.
"That's what I meant." He smiled. "You already know Mena and I had a brief fling. She wanted to meet Kane, but she also wanted me to train her brother. Unfortunately, that conflicted with the contract I had with Charlie at the time."
"Charlie made you sign a contract to train his fighters?" Gilda poured them each a glass of wine
then took a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. "Why?"
"Because he wasn't the man in charge."
She stared. "What do you mean?"
Mick reached for a piece of pizza. "Charlie found the fighters, and the guy he worked for paid us to train them. I never knew who that was though."
"So the whole thing was a business. You, Razi, and Charlie were the hired help. What would that make Kane and the others?"
"A commodity." He sipped his wine. "When the talent didn't hold up their end of the bargain, they were released to find another manager and trainer."
"Is that what happened with Kane?" Gilda took a bite of her pizza.
Mick hesitated. "Charlie wasn't supposed to let Kane go. He was supposed to just keep the talent happy, within reason, and make money. When he and Kane had such a dramatic and public disagreement, he lost the company the biggest moneymaker they had. That's when Charlie ended up going to jail."
Gilda narrowed her eyes. "Mena said he was arrested for bringing in drugs to feed his fighters. She'd been on his boat and he threw her into the ocean."
"Yeah, but I doubt it was because she was innocent." He reached for his wine glass and drank half the liquid inside. "I always suspected Mena had more to do with Charlie than she'd let on to me or Kane."
"Do you think she was part of the company who oversaw everything?"
Mick nodded. "I thought so, but I could never find proof. The more I tried to link her to the company, the more roadblocks went up. Before Kane and Charlie had even gone their separate ways, both Razi and I were released from our contracts."
"I searched every link I could find, but I didn't find anything about a parent company owning Kane and Charlie." She picked up her wine glass and took a long drink. "Do you think this is all mob related? A money-laundering scheme?"
"Mob maybe. Gary said he had no idea." Mick hesitated. "He's usually pretty upfront with me about these things, but even when Kane and I had him cornered in a room full of swords, he stood his ground."
"That's why you and Gary went to Kane's apartment."
"Yeah." He patted her thigh. "Are you okay?"
"My head's spinning." Considering she'd only had a few sips of wine along with pizza, she felt oddly exhausted and had to rest her head against the couch. "What was in the wine?"
Mick touched her cheek. "Nothing as far as I know. Maybe all the stress and sleepless nights are finally catching up to you."
"No. I just feel… Something's not right."
Gilda's dreams were vivid that night. She shot out of bed and pressed her nose to the cold window as a flash of light momentarily blinded her. In the brief burst, she was sure she saw her garden, blossoms bowing their heads against the heavy rain. No Charlie Hunt. Her pulse, quicker than the taps of rain on the glass, began to slow as she took several deep breaths. Sweat traveled in a steady stream between her shoulder blades to the curve of her lower back.
Mick must have carried her to bed hours ago, but now he was gone. She hoped he was just in the bathroom or had gotten up for a late night snack.
Or that she was still dreaming.
"Mick?" she called out, searching her night table in the dark for her phone.
A loud crack of thunder shook her small house and rattled the bedside lamps. As a pen rolled off her nightstand and skittered across the hardwood to hide beneath the bed a shudder ran through her. No response from Mick. Where was he?
Charlie, she knew for a fact, was buried in a family plot in the cemetery across town. Why would she dream he was pushing up daisies and peonies in her backyard, especially when she'd never even known the man? While she'd never believed in premonitions, a deep sense of foreboding filled her now.
Gilda reached for the light switch. No power. Not a good sign. The nearest candles were in the bathroom. The closest matches or flashlight lay in the kitchen drawer. Just the thought of creeping across the house in the darkness turned her stomach into a quivering mass.
What had she been thinking? She should have stayed with Marion, or even at Mick's apartment. Being stupid had no apparent limits, but she'd already passed her limit for bravery. But Mick insisted Fabio had wanted them to come to her house. She fumbled again for her phone to use as a flashlight.
She took a couple shaky breaths then forced her legs to move. As she crept down the hallway with one hand on the wall her fingertips touched the bottoms of picture frames, and her feet, cold and clammy, slipped along the hardwood.
A loud bang came from the kitchen. She hugged the wall and froze. Who'd broken in this time? She held her breath until several more thumps followed then sighed, sure the storm must have blown open the screen door, yet she was positive she'd latched it from inside and checked it at least three times before opening the wine. Of course, locks had never stopped people from invading her space before.
"Mick? Are you outside?" She waited until lightning brightened the house again. When nothing moved, she eased toward the kitchen once more and peeked around the corner. "Is anyone there?"
The instant she came around the corner, the screen door banged shut again a heartbeat before a massive crash of thunder shook everything. Brilliant light illuminated the living room and kitchen, which were empty aside from her aged furniture.
"Mick? Thayer?" She sidled around the corner and approached the door. No answer. No flash of revealing light to illuminate everything—scary or not. "If one of you is out there, you'd better speak up or I'll shoot."
Who was she fooling? Both Mick and Thayer knew she didn't have a gun. Kane, however, was another matter.
Gilda sucked in a bracing breath, pushed the back door open, and stepped out onto the porch then onto the grass into the downpour. The instant her feet touched the wet grass yet another clap of thunder shook Sandstone Cove and a blinding bolt lit up the backyard. At the far end of her garden, half-hidden by a large peony bush, stood a tall, drenched figure.
She screamed, her sound drowned out by even more thunder.
The figure dropped something into the dirt. A sword? Was it Kane? With minimal light, she could only guess before she twitched and ran toward the house like a frightened squirrel. She'd barely made it to the porch when someone grabbed her from behind and clapped a muddy hand over her mouth. As she fought for freedom, the heel of her right foot connected with muscle and bone.
"Holy hell cat! Stop kicking me." Kane spun her around. "Are you crazy, woman?"
"Me?" Her hair clung to her cheeks. "You're the one skulking around my garden with a sword during a thunderstorm."
He snorted. "I'm not skulking. And it's not a sword, it's a shovel." When a thunderclap boomed a second later, he flinched and jumped to shield her.
"Get off me!" Gilda gasped. "Why were you were digging up my garden in a thunderstorm? Are you nuts?"
Kane sighed. "It's a long story, love."
"You left the shovel on my deck that night. The night I called the police then found Charlie's duffel bag the next day."
"Can we go inside?" he asked. "I'm wet and tired of being yelled at."
"I suppose." She opened the door. "Come in and dry off. I'll make coffee. I don't think I can sleep right now anyway."
"Make it herbal tea and I'm in." He wiped the water off his face with one hand. "Have you got a towel I can use?"
Gilda reached to flick on the lights. Nothing happened. "Right. No power."
"Water's fine, love. Just don't dump it over my head."
"No promises." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a lighter to light the cluster of lilac votive candles she kept on the table. She handed him one candle then turned to dig out more. "The towels are in the bathroom under the sink. I'll light some more candles and get us drinks."
"You're quite the romantic, I see," Kane smiled. "I'll take Scotch, no ice, if you've got it."
"Water, it is." Gilda reached into the cupboard then remembered she hadn't replaced her glasses yet. She found two small plastic containers and filled them half full of water. Better than
nothing.
He smiled then walked into the darkness with one lone candle cradled in his hand like a newly hatched chick.
When he returned, Gilda turned to hand him a plastic bowl. The candle flickered between them, casting shadows that danced across his face as he grinned. "Looks like you still need to do some shopping."
"Yeah." She took a nervous step back and ran into the cupboard.
A twisted smile brightened his face as he passed her a towel. "Darlin', if you weren't dating Mick, you'd be fair game right now. That little nightshirt you're wearing hugs all your curves and I'm willing to bet it's pretty much see-through."
"Lucky for me he and I are dating then." Gilda shivered as a surge of heat filled her body, suddenly aware he was right. Her nightshirt stuck to every curve of her body.
"Where is Mick, anyway?" he asked. "I thought he planned to be glued to your hip tonight after everything that's happened."
She wrapped the towel around her torso. "He was here when I fell asleep. I'm not sure why he left. Maybe there was a problem at the school because of the storm or something. I'm going to change. I'll be back in a minute."
Gilda clutched her phone in one hand and left the candles with Kane as she shot down the hall to her bedroom and locked the door to change in peace. No texts from Mick. Whatever happened, he must have thought he could leave and return without her being aware of his absence. She sent him a quick text. Where are you? I need you.
Holding her phone in one hand, she felt around in her drawer for a pair of flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt she could pull on quickly.
By the time she returned to the living room, Kane had stripped off his shirt and rubbed the towel over his skin in silence. The candlelight made his wet, strong body glisten. Gilda wrapped a blanket around her to ward off the shivers and went into the kitchen for more candles, which she set on the coffee table, careful to turn her gaze away from him.
When Kane hesitated next to the armchair, she threw him a blanket. "You might need this. I know I have a chill."