The Viper

by Velvet Vaughn

  “You sure I can’t get you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m sure. Thanks, Mrs. Graves.”

  Once she left and closed the door, the room seemed even smaller. He wondered how Moody stood it for eight hours a day. Judging by his pasty complexion and protruding gut, he didn’t get much sun or exercise.

  “Hal Moody.” The man offered his hand and they shook. Hal was pushing sixty with a bald head and keen green eyes. “How can I help you? Do you need to hire a bodyguard?”

  “Actually, we’re in the same business.”

  Hal’s eyes dropped to the embroidered logo on Kellan’s shirt and his brows raised. “COBRA Securities? No shit?”

  Kellan nodded.

  “Damn, you guys are badass.” He opened his hands wide. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to inquire about a woman who might’ve retained your services. She was supposed to meet one of your men at the airport today.”

  Hal sat back in his chair, the springs groaning in protest. His pot belly strained the buttons on his short-sleeved brown shirt, and there was a stain on the right side that looked like it might’ve been mustard. It wasn’t even ten in the morning.

  “Oh her. Yeah, what a certified wingnut.” Hal made a twirling motion beside his head. “She called and begged me to take her case, even though she couldn’t pay. Said she was good for the money.” He scoffed. “That’s what they all say, right? Like we’re supposed to do this for charity or something. After she started sobbing like a baby, I agreed to have her meet with one of my guys just so she’d shut up. His flight was delayed and she called, demanding to know where he was. I told her to take a chill pill, that he’d be there. But when he arrived, she wasn’t there. Pissed me off something fierce. She was a pest, bugging me about where he was and then she didn’t even have the courtesy to stick around.” He shook his head. “Like I said, certified wingnut.”

  Kellan ground his teeth and reined in his temper. The man was starting to get on his nerves. The woman obviously needed help and he’d treated her like a nuisance. “Do you know her name?”

  “Got it here somewhere.” Leaning forward, he lifted a pair of thick black reading glasses and slid them on before shuffling papers around on his desk. “Here it is.” He tugged the sheet out. “Angela Johnson.”

  Kellan’s heart sank. She’d given him her fake name, too. “Do you have a phone number?”

  “No. She said her phone battery was low, so she’d call me. Number was blocked on caller ID.”

  Frustration was building. “Any way to contact her at all?”

  “Nope.”

  This had been a wasted trip. A headache was gathering strength behind his eyes. “Did she tell you why she wanted to hire you?”

  “Nothing much. Same old, same old. Someone was after her and she needed a bodyguard.”

  This guy was no help whatsoever. Kellan stood. “Thanks, Mr. Moody, I appreciate your time.” He handed him a business card. “If she calls again, can you get her contact information and give me a ring?”

  “Sure, sure. But why do you want to know about her? She’s a fruitcake.”

  And you’re an asshole. “Just following through on a lead.” No way would he tell this man anything.

  Hal scurried around his desk. “Say, would there happen to be any openings with your company? They have a reputation as one of the best in the business.”

  The best, Kellan wanted to correct him. But this man and his judgmental attitude wouldn’t pass muster. A woman needed help, for hell’s sake, and he treated her like an annoyance. “I don’t have anything to do with hiring, but if you give me your card, I’ll pass it along.” Right into the trash can.

  “Great, thanks.” Hal fell over himself to snatch a business card from a holder on his desk.

  Kellan tucked the card in his pocket, shook Moody’s hand and left the office. He waved his thanks to Mrs. Graves, who was on the phone and stepped into the sunshine. Disappointment settled in his gut like a concrete block. He’d hoped to come away with at least a contact number for Angela. He had no other way of finding her in a city of millions. His only hope was that she’d call him.

  After climbing into the SUV, he headed back to the parking lot where he’d last seen her. Maybe she was still hanging around the airport. He parked in the same spot and shut off the engine. When he slid out, something on the ground caught his attention. He bent down and picked it up, his eyes closing in regret. It was his business card. With a sigh, he stood. He had no way to contact Angela Johnson and now she had no way to contact him.

  #

  Annabelle slammed the door to her room shut and slid the chain into place. Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t know if it was from being shot at or having run into the man with the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. He’d said his name was Kellan. Tall, muscular, light brown hair and eyes the color of aged whiskey. He was by far the most handsome man she’d ever met.

  Now that she was back in her room and alone, she wondered why she’d run from him. He’d been willing to help her. Why didn’t she take him up on it? She’d spent all that time on the phone yesterday begging people to help her and here one offered and she’d turned him down. Actually, she didn’t turn him down—she bolted like a scared rabbit. She was such an idiot.

  He said he worked for COBRA Securities. She dug her phone out of her bag and realized in her haste to return to her room, she’d neglected to buy a charger. She had ten missed texts. Four were from Robbie, two from his vapid wife Vespa, two from her service provider wanting her to buy more products, and two from a lawyer at Windham, Wallace and Pierce, asking her to call him as soon as possible. She also had several voice mail messages, but they were probably from Robbie, so she ignored them.

  Before she researched Kellan’s company, she dialed the law offices and asked for Mr. Walters. The hold music just started to play when a deep voice came across the line.

  “Ms. St. John, thank you for calling me back. I’m taking over Mr. Windham’s clients and wanted to introduce myself.”

  Sweet, grandfatherly Mr. Windham. Dead because of her. “I was saddened to hear of his passing.”

  “As were we. A terrible thing.”

  “Are there any leads on why he was murdered?” In other words, were the police onto Robbie?

  “None, yet, but the authorities are keeping tight-lipped. Ms. St. John, I have a few forms I need to you to come to the office and sign at your earliest convenience.”

  There was no way she was venturing out by herself, not to mention the fact that she was currently without transportation. “I’m not sure when I can get there. It won’t be for a few days.”

  “There’s no immediate hurry, but I do need you to come in as soon as possible so there’s no delay in finalizing the will.”

  In other words, the will might get hung up in probate. The sooner she had control, the better. Once everything was hers, Robbie would have no way to get his hands on the money. He still might want to kill her, but he wouldn’t have a claim on the money. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “That would be great. How are you doing, Annabelle? I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you.”

  His voice had dropped almost seductively and a shudder raced down her spine. How could someone give you the creeps over the phone? And he was being awfully forward calling her by her first name when she’d never met him before. She certainly didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his first name—not that she knew what it was.

  “As good as can be expected. Thank you for asking, Mr. Walters.”

  “Call me Cory, please. If there’s anything I can do for you, Annabelle, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

  Ugh. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I look forward to meeting you in person, Annabelle.”

  She hung up before he could say anything else. Now she didn’t want to have to meet with him. If he creeped her out over the phone, she couldn’t imagine what he’d do to her in person.

/>   Pushing the thought of Cory Walters from her mind, she typed the name of Kellan’s security company into her browser and started reading.

  After only two articles, she decided this was the firm that could help her. They were incredible. She visited their website, but it was surprisingly bare bones. No list of employees or anything. She could really jazz it up, make it a showpiece. Of course, maybe they didn’t want to list their employees for some reason. She clicked on the contact tab and a form popped up that she could fill out. There was also an eight-hundred number. No address. She hoped they were in California. Kellan had been at the airport, but maybe he was jetting off for a case.

  That made her pause. If he was working for another client, he wouldn’t be able to help her. Despite the fact that she’d ran from him faster than Usain Bolt crossing the finishing line, she trusted him. She didn’t know why and it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t change her feelings. She didn’t want him passing her off to someone else. She rummaged in her pockets for his business card but came up empty. She checked her purse in case she stuck it in there, but it was nowhere to be found.

  Plopping down to the mattress, she debated on what she should do. She couldn’t stay in this room forever. She needed to go back to her house and pack. She wanted to empty out the safe deposit box her mother purchased for her years ago. It held all her important documents as well as mementos from her parents. And now she needed to add a trip to the lawyer’s office to the list. So much to do and she couldn’t do it alone.

  Picking up her phone, she dialed the eight-hundred number for COBRA Securities. An automated message came on with a menu of options, or you could punch in the person’s extension. She chose the option for the main office.

  “Thank you for calling COBRA Securities. How may I direct your call?”

  “This might sound strange, but I met one of your employees today and he gave me his card, but I’ve lost it. I was hoping I could get his number.”

  “If you can hold please, I’m going to transfer you to our office manager, BeBe.”

  “Thanks.”

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  “This is BeBe. How can I help you?” She repeated the spiel she recited to the woman who answered the phone. “Sure. Who did you meet?”

  “Kellan. I don’t remember his last name.”

  “Polizzi. Is this Angela?”

  Annabelle gasped and jerked the phone away to stare at it. How did this woman know her name? Had Robbie gotten to them already? She put the phone back to her ear. “How did you—”

  “From Kellan. He’s been trying to find you. He even canceled his flight home. He wants to help you.”

  Okay, Kellan told the woman. That made sense. She relaxed. “I’m sorry. I’m a little jumpy.”

  “You don’t need to apologize.”

  Something the woman said just penetrated. “You said he canceled his flight home? Where are you located?”

  “We’re headquartered in Indiana.”

  Indiana. That was hundreds of miles away. “Why was Kellan here? Is he working on a case?”

  “He just finished one, so he’s available to help if you’ll let him.”

  A feeling of rightness washed over her. Fate had to have a hand in their meeting. He came along when she needed him. “I do want his help.”

  “Great. Here’s his cell number.” BeBe recited the digits and she scribbled them down. “Thank you so much. I appreciate this.”

  “No problem. And Angela? You can trust Kellan. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

  She thanked the woman and disconnected. If Kellan’s company was headquartered in the Midwest, there was a minuscule chance that they knew Robbie or that he’d have any influence on them at all. It seemed almost too good to be true. Add in the fact that Kellan was the most handsome man she’d ever seen and fate definitely had to be involved. Either that or Rob was taking care of her from the grave.

  Chapter Three

  Kellan returned to his hotel room, tossed his keys on the dresser and hooked his cell to the charger on the bedside table. He had no way to contact Angela. He did a search on the name and there were almost three hundred Angela Johnsons in Los Angeles alone. That didn’t even take into consideration the surrounding areas. No way in hell was he calling every single one and asking, “So hey, you didn’t happen to dodge bullets at the airport this morning, did you?” After he found his business card on the ground, his last hope that she’d contact him died a slow and painful death. He’d wanted to help—tried to help—but it wasn’t meant to be.

  He fell back onto the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. There wasn’t any reason for him to stay in LA now. He could probably catch a flight out this afternoon and be home in time for dinner with the time difference. But, BeBe had already reserved the room for him. No sense in wasting it. He’d grab the first flight out in the morning and hope that Angela would get the help she needed, and not from that heartless jerk Moody at Cable Security.

  His cell rang. Reaching over, he grabbed it and checked the caller ID. Unknown. “Polizzi.”

  “Is this Mr. Polizzi…oh wait, you just said that.”

  He scooted up until his back rested against the headboard. “Angela? Angela Johnson, is that you?” Was it possible she was calling him?

  “No…oh wait, yes, that’s me.”

  Kellan let out a relieved exhale and a chuckle, his hunch about a fake name confirmed. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been trying to locate you. I was worried after you took off.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, but I had to get out of there. My step—uh the people after me found me and I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

  “I meant what I told you earlier, Angela. I can help you. It’s what I do.”

  “Thanks and I do need help, but I’m reluctant to hire you.”

  “I can provide references if that’s what’s holding you back.”

  “No, I Googled your company and their reputation is stellar.”

  “If it’s about the fees…” He’d cover them himself if necessary. He couldn’t get the terrified look on her face out of his head.

  “No, that’s not it, either. I have money, I just can’t access it at the moment.”

  “We can work something out where you pay when you’re able.”

  “No, you don’t understand. The reason I’m hesitant is that at least ten people are dead because of me.”

  Kellan stilled, a chill of ice running down his spine. “Are you telling me you murdered ten people?” What was she, some kind of sexy serial killer?

  “At least ten, and I didn’t actually kill them myself, but I might as well have pulled the trigger.”

  He was starting to understand. “You’re saying they died because of you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Angela, you’re going to have to give me straight answers if you want my help.”

  “I’m afraid to get you involved.” Her voice was a low whisper.

  He was the man for the job, he just had to convince her. “Before I started working for the security company, I was a police officer. I’ve been in difficult situations many times, believe me.”

  A sharp gasp sounded through the phone. “You were a cop?”

  She said it like it was a bad thing. “A detective, actually.”

  Silence. Then, “Do you have any association with the LA police?”

  “I know a few officers—”

  “Goodbye.”

  “No, Angela, wait! Don’t hang up. Let me explain.” Something bad was going on if she was afraid of the authorities.

  There was a pause and he feared she had disconnected. Finally, she said, “Okay. Explain.”

  “I know a couple of the officers, but no, I don’t have any association with them. They’re barely acquaintances.”

  She exhaled. “Okay. Good.”

  “I’m getting the feeling you don’t trust the local cops.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust them, but the per
son who’s after me has contacts everywhere, including the LAPD.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the people who died.” If he could keep her talking, maybe he could gain her confidence.

  “My lawyer hired a bodyguard for me, but he was killed yesterday morning. He was able to kill the man who attacked him before he died, giving me the chance to escape. Then my lawyer was murdered.”

  Damn. Whatever trouble she was in, she definitely needed his help. “What about the other eight?”

  “At the airport yesterday, the people after me traced my car. The same two men who shot at us boarded a shuttle bus and killed everyone on board. I have no doubt they were looking for me.”

  “Angela, whatever is going on is serious. Let me help you. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.”

  “What if by helping me, you become a target?”

  “I can handle them. And I’ll keep you safe.”

  Another excruciating long pause. Then she relented. “Okay. I’m at—oh wait, there’s a knock on the door. It’s the motel manager. Be right back.”

  He bolted upright. “Angela, do not open that door! Angela?” He was too late. He listened as she slid the chain through the track and then a loud crash when the door slammed against the wall. Angela screamed and there were sounds that indicated a scuffle. If they hurt her, he’d find them and make them pay.

  “Angela!” He jumped off the bed, frantic to help but powerless to do anything. Then there was nothing, no sounds of a fight or cries for help. He reached for the landline beside the bed to call the office. He didn’t want to break the connection with Angela’s cell.