"No!" she cried, "You can't stop playing, Derick." She wrapped her hand around his. "You're a wonderful performer. You told me it's your life. You can't stop. Please tell me you won't stop. Her death was an accident."
"But does my life have to lead to someone else's death? No, Ellen. I have to think about this." His brown eyes fixed on hers. "I have to leave. They're...the press is already asking about you. If they get wind of who you are, those bikers will kill you."
She nodded. The same thing had crossed her mind. The bikers knew her already. They'd seen her face. They knew her. And, Derick Sands brought publicity. She, and the whole operation, could be in danger if she was exposed. As usual, the D.E.A. took precedence over her personal life.
"I'll come back," he said, squeezing her hand. "After it dies out. And I'll call you every day. I have a tour coming up in Europe, which I'll complete. After that, I don't know what I'll do. But I'll be back in L.A. in a month, maybe for my last concert. Then you and I can finish what we started." He squeezed her hand again, as he gazed at her.
A lump grew in her throat. She'd miss him. Much as she hated to admit it, she'd miss him. "Maybe it wasn't meant to be, Derick," she said huskily, "between us, I mean. Things seemed to be conspiring against us. Maybe it's a sign."
"You don't really believe that, do you?" His eyes took on a new intensity, and she looked away, avoiding his penetrating gaze.
"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know what to think. You're so...I feel like you want all of me. Like I'd be lost, and swallowed up by you. It scares the hell out of me, and I find myself pulling away."
"Well, take the month and think about it. Think about us. Whether you want a relationship. Because I want one with you, Ellen. Badly. But I won't force myself on you. Not ever. You need to come to me of your own accord. Not because I'm famous, but because you want the man underneath all this."
She was silent, and the lump in her throat grew worse. The man underneath...yes, she knew him. She knew the real Derick.
His voice was soft, as he continued, "Maybe a close relationship scares you. God knows, you were never very close with your husband. No one's ever touched you, Ellen, and I don't mean physically, but your soul, deep inside. The hidden, vulnerable spot. I think you need me. Probably more than you realize."
Then he rose, and pulled her up into his arms. "Think about it," he said softly, as he stroked her hair.
Her arms came around his waist, and she breathed deeply of him, thinking this could be the last time she'd be with him. The last time she'd smell his subtle aftershave, the last time she'd feel his hard body.
"I've called a taxi, and my jet is waiting for me at the airport," he said softly. "You'll think about it?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"And I've packed everything but the condoms. I won't need them where I'm going, but I might when I return here. Yeah, maybe."
He sighed deeply. "And take care of Nicky. Get him out of that situation. He's a good man. I'm worried about him, Ellen. I just wish I could have done something. I feel like my visit here caused more harm than good."
Pulling back, she looked up at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She couldn't tell him. The words wouldn't come.
"I'll be back," he said softly. "Think about it, Ellen." And his lips brushed hers slightly and he was gone.
She looked around the house. It was silent now, too quiet without Derick. And Ellen felt empty, drained. Like she'd lost a significant part of herself somehow.
Strolling out to the pool, she realized that almost everywhere here, he'd left memories. Sizzling, hot memories that tore at her heart.
Chapter Twenty
On the plane to Mexico two days later, Chloe went over the plans in her mind. Without Tess there, it would be a lot easier to follow Max to the factory, if he refused to take her, that is. He had a three-wheeled recreational motorcycle at the house. She could have Nick show her how to ride it, just in case. She could do it. She was sure she could do just about anything now.
But, she was just as sure Max would take her. With just the three of them there, it would be easy to convince him. Then, when they got back, she'd call Ellen, and finally, the D.E.A. could move in. She was waiting anxiously for the moment when she'd leave all this behind.
As they deplaned, Mexico was as barren as she remembered, as barren as Chloe's feelings. She was hardening herself. She could feel her emotions changing. She was different now. This whole experience had changed her, and possibly not for the better, either.
Watching Nick as they walked along in the airport, doubts hit her. Did she still love him? There must be something of her old feelings left. Just like there was a part of him that was still the old Nick.
She sighed, and realized she wasn't sure anymore. Then, as if sensing her thoughts, he looked over at her. A slow, lazy grin started on his lips, and his hand came out and brushed along her hair.
"How's my baby?" he said softly.
With that simple touch and those words, she felt her emotions soar. He was beautiful, this man, with his shining black hair, blue-gray eyes and muscles bulging under his white t-shirt. But, more than that, she knew he really cared about her. Deep inside, he cared.
"I'm fine, Nick. Couldn't be better." And she realized if he came—to after the accident, and didn't even know her, he must have fallen in love with her all over again. Twice!
She grabbed his hand. "Remember the satin sheets, bandito?" she said with a smile.
Laughing softly, he said, "No, I don't. But I can't wait to try them out."
However, Max hurried them along, stepping back to grab Nick's arm. "Let's go, you two. We haven't got time for romantic bullshit."
But it was hot outside in Mexico, hotter than before. So hot, Chloe felt as if she couldn't breathe in the taxi to Mazatlan. Her stomach roiled, and sweat broke out on her face and neck as she slunk down in the seat.
"Baby, Chloe, are you all right?" Nick's face was worried, as he peered at her.
"Here," Max handed him a napkin from the front seat, "it's probably just the heat. Damn, it's scorching down here." He gave Chloe a long look, then turned back to watch the road again.
Nick wiped her face, dabbed away the perspiration, then stroked her hair. "You'll be okay once we get to the house," he told her, his voice tinged with concern.
But, she wasn't. It seemed even hotter at the sprawling house, in spite of its close proximity to the ocean.
Nick carried her in, and placed her on the sofa. Max threw open the doors to the balcony, but barely a breeze stirred.
The heat grabbed at Chloe, unmercifully, and as her stomach did flip—flops, she began to panic. This had happened to her before, in other places, this intense reaction to hot weather. Perhaps it would cool off in the evening. Just a breeze, that's all she needed to relieve this intense nausea.
Nick and Max stared down at her, after Nick brought her a cool cloth for her head.
"Listen, baby," Nick said, "while you're resting, we'll go make the pick-up at the factory. You can rest while we're gone."
No! They couldn't go without her! She had to think of some way to keep them here. "But Nick, I want to go with you." she searched her mind, "Please don't leave me alone. You know I hate being alone in strange places." She grabbed his hand. "Please, Nick!" And it was true. She didn't want to stay in this house, this horrible house, built on the misery of others.
He looked at Max and sighed. "Can you wait a few hours? Just until she's feeling better?"
Max shrugged and looked unconcerned. "Whatever."
Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to will her stomach to cooperate. But it was still heaving unmercifully. "Maybe if I sleep," she suggested weakly.
Kissing her lightly on the cheek, Nick said, "Okay, baby. I'll wake you up in a bit."
She dozed fitfully, sometimes hearing bursts of laughter from the kitchen, and a buzzing sound. About two hours later, she woke and stretched. Yes, she did fee
l better now. Her stomach was calm and, although it was still hot, she wasn't sweating like before. And a cool breeze flowed through the open patio door.
But, it was quiet in the kitchen, and she frowned. Had they decided to go without her? She didn't hear a sound.
Rising quickly, she checked the kitchen first. No one was there, but the blender had obviously been used, and it contained a familiar, lime-green, frothy mixture.
"Oh my God," she breathed, remembering her own reaction to the drugged brew. As she whirled around, her eyes searched the pool area. Max sat on a lounge chair, with a beer in his hand, looking moodily out over the ocean. But Nick. Where was Nick?
Silently, slowly, she backed out of the kitchen, then flew up the stairs two at a time, to the bedroom she and Nick shared before on the last trip.
Nick was lying on the bed. She ran to him, and shook his shoulder. He groaned, but, he didn't move.
Sitting on the bed, she felt his chest. Yes, at least he was still breathing. She peered under his eyelids, and saw dilated pupils. He'd been heavily drugged by Max.
Standing now, she looked down at Nick, and let her breath out in a long sigh. Then, fear hit her in a rush. She'd be alone with Max. Now, she was truly on her own. She pulled on every reserve she had, so she wouldn't panic. This was no time to panic. She had to think clearly.
"He's out," Max said from the doorway.
Her face hardened, and she didn't turn around. "What'd you use on him, Max?" she said stiffly.
"Aw," he said softly, as he moved into the room, "a little 'Crash' never hurts, Chloe. He'll sleep it off."
Not that! Chloe thought. He could die! "How much did you give him?" she asked, from between clenched teeth. Then she turned slowly and faced him. "And why, Max? Why?"
He shrugged, but continued moving towards her. "I didn't give him much. He loved it, you should have seen him, Chloe. He was flying high. I know the doses. It won't kill him. He'll sleep it off this time."
Her eyes narrowed. "I thought we were all going to the factory. What happened to that idea?"
Taking her shoulders in a firm grip, he smiled, and said, "We are. But not him. Just you and me, Chloe. Just you and me."
He paused, and his hands moved up and down her arms. The sensation made her skin crawl, but she tried to keep her face impassive.
Softly, he said, "You're the woman I want, Chloe. You can I can run the show, here and back in the States. You're smart, and I like that. Tess was stupid."
"Is that why you shot her?" Chloe's eyes were hard, as she stared at him. She knew she shouldn't have said that, but she had to know, from his own lips.
His face changed, momentarily, then his mouth quirked into a smile. "See what I mean?" he said softly, "You catch on quick. Sure, I did her. She was a bitch."
Chloe's eyes narrowed again. "So, if I'm a bitch, you'll shoot me too?"
He grinned. "Not likely. You're worth ten of Tess if you'll join with me." His grip tightened now on her shoulders.
"And if I don't?"
"You will, Chloe," he said, with undue confidence, "you will."
Her mind clicked furiously, as she tried to think of ways she could dissuade the man. Finally, she realized she'd have to play along. There was no other way. "I'll have to think about it," she said finally. "But I want to see the whole operation first. From start to finish. If it's rinky-dink, I don't want anything to do with it or you."
Dropping his hands, he looked at her with new respect, his gaze appearing much like the one he'd given Derick Sands. Then, he grinned. "That's my girl. Let's go."
Turning back, she bent over the bed, and checked Nick. He was sleeping peacefully, so she was satisfied. They wouldn't be gone that long, and she'd check on him when they returned to the house. She had to leave him now. But she never would again, not for any reason. They'd go back, and she'd get him some help for his amnesia. And they'd be together at last.
Chloe memorized the landscape on the way to the lab, while Max explained the operation, as they rode along in the jeep.
"We have a contact named Miguel Ortiz," he said. "He's an ambassador at the United Nations. He carries the stuff back for us in his diplomatic pouch. They never hastle him. You'll meet him later tonight."
"You pay him?" she asked.
"Yeah, in drugs and some cash, too. I think he's addicted to 'Crash.' The guy can't seem to get enough of the stuff." He snickered.
She tried to keep her face from showing her disgust, as she looked over at Max. Now was the time she could ask questions without raising suspicions. "What exactly is 'Crash' made of?"
"You got me. You're talking to the wrong person there. I don't know that much about the ingredients. The chemist at the lab stumbled onto it, when he tried to make Quaaludes. It's a variation of that, he keeps the formula somewhere around. However..." he paused, obviously wondering if he should tell her any more.
"Yes?" she prodded.
He smiled. "I may as well tell you. I'm sure, after you hear everything, you'll join me anyway. You won't be able to resist this, Chloe."
"Tell me. Then I'll decide," she said dryly, wondering what could be worse than selling a deadly street drug.
He laughed. "Well, there's a by-product from this stuff. A gas. It's already killed one worker." He glanced over at her quickly, then back to the road again.
"Yeah?" What the hell was he getting at? There were quite often by-products from the manufacture of drugs. Deadly by—products like cyanide.
"You bet. My chemist came up with a formula where the gas is released by a pellet. You throw the pellet, and this gas is released into the air. Fills the room. He showed me one time. At any rate, I'm in the process of negotiating with some guys from Tehran. They want to start buying the pellets in large quantities."
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe sat, momentarily stunned, as the jeep rumbled down the dirt road. Max played a more deadly game than she'd ever realized. And this whole thing went a lot deeper than just selling drugs, as she'd suspected in the beginning.
Slowly, she said, "Sounds interesting. How did you ever run into these guys?" As Ellen would say, add this to the list. Yes, she was sure Ellen would be more than happy to add this to her list of crimes.
"Who? The Mid—East guys?"
"Yes." She had to know his connections. They were all going down. Every last one of them.
"Ortiz. You wouldn't believe this guy, Chloe." He talked excitedly now, "He knows them somehow. I told him about the by—product, and he turned me onto these guys. They're paying big money, too. Wait 'til you meet them. You think the guys from the club are crazy." Then he laughed.
Yeah, she thought, as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, they're crazy...crazy enough to use this stuff in the United States, you stupid maniac! But, you don't think that far ahead, do you? Stupid man, Chloe thought, too stupid for words. But at least he'd retained the formula. If he ever let loose of that, no telling what would happen.
They arrived at the factory, which was a plain looking, wide, low beige building, standing by itself on the outskirts of a small settlement of tin shacks. From the outside, it had the appearance of a business of some sort, with a sign in front that said, 'Mangem Corporation.'
"Nice name," Chloe said, as they walked towards the front, glass doors.
"Yeah. Manuel's Gem of an idea!" Max laughed. He seemed in good spirits, as they entered, and she almost pitied him then. Almost. He was so blissfully unaware of what would happen later on. And so terribly stupid.
There was even a receptionist, completing the phony picture, a young, pretty Mexican woman with long, dark hair and a nice smile. "Buenos dios, Senior Harrigan."
He waved to her, as they pushed through a set of double doors and walked down a long, deserted hallway.
"Does she know anything?" Chloe asked.
"Nah, everyone around here thinks we're a pharmaceutical company. You can pose as anything down here, if you pay off the right people. Hell, for fifty bucks, you can
have someone bumped off!"
Chloe had no love for Mexico to being with. That statement made it even worse. She thought she'd never want to even visit the place again, when the job was over.
Through a glass enclosure, they watched the chemist at work, as he stood surrounded by beakers and lab instruments. Totally immersed in his work, he didn't even look up once. He was older, stooped, with grey hair and a slovenly appearance. And he wore only safety glasses.
"Doesn't he wear a gas mask or something?" Chloe asked curiously, as she heard a loud blower click on in the lab.
"Sometimes, it depends what phase of the operation he's in. Yeah, he's quite a brain."
Not too bright, Chloe thought, or he wouldn't be doing this in the first place.
"See those canisters back there?" He pointed to some small, drum-like tins in the very back of the lab. They almost appeared to be cookie canisters. She counted six. "Those are for our first shipment to Tehran. The guys are picking them up tomorrow at noon." He leaned against the glass, and observed her. "You'll meet them. We'll have them to the house afterwards. They'll love you, Chloe. Well, quite an occasion, wouldn't you say?"
She nodded. Yes, quite the occasion. Trying to keep her voice neutral, and forget her dislike of the man and his grizzly trade, she said, "I'm impressed, Max. You have quite an operation here, quite an operation."
But at the house, Nick's head was pounding, as he slowly came to. Where was he? Slowly opening his eyes, he looked around, and his hand slid along the sheets. Mexico. And the cotton taste in his mouth told him he'd been drugged. But why? And where was Chloe? Slowly rising, he sat on the bed, heard the thundering ocean below, and realized it was almost dark outside.
He took a deep breath. How long had they been in Mexico? And had they seen the drug plant yet? His memories were hazy, and he shook his head, trying to clear it. Where were they in the investigation? And why was he here, and not with Chloe, Max and Tessie?
He sat for a few minutes, as darkness fell, then he heard voices below. Weaving slightly, he went down the hallway, started down the stairs, then stopped as he heard Chloe's voice.
Nicky's Fire Page 18