Adrienne Giordano

by Relentless Pursuit

  Monk stepped out of the elevator wearing his trademark cargo shorts, T-shirt, combat boots and do-rag. The older, dressed-to-impress couple behind him could only stare. They had no idea what to do with him. Fudging priceless. If they only knew how financially loaded the guy was.

  “I told you not to come.”

  “Yeah, you did. Which was a dumb-ass thing to do considering a gator tried to make you her dinner.”

  Billy’s phone rang again. “Vic. I’ll call him later.”

  “Seriously? You gave him ‘30 Days in the Hole’ as a ringtone?”

  “I was pissed when he sent me down here.”

  “You’d better hope he never hears it.”

  “How’s he gonna hear it? It’s not like he’ll call me on the phone when we’re face to face.” Billy shook it off. “Besides, I’m about to do a sneak and peek on a law firm.”

  “Sweet.” Monk’s phone rang. “Vic. Crap.”

  “Don’t answer—”

  “Hello?”

  “—it.” So much for that.

  “Uh,” Monk said into the phone. “Billy? No, I haven’t seen him…You called my house?” Monk raised his eyebrows and Billy sliced his hand across his throat.

  “Izzy told you Billy got eaten by a gator? Uh-huh.”

  “30 Days in the Hole” blared from Billy’s phone. Shiznet. The son of a beeswax called from another phone while talking to Monk.

  “Here he is now.” Monk shoved the phone at Billy.

  Dead man. “Hey, boss.”

  “Straight away, I should kick your ass for giving me that ringtone. Second, you two think I’m an idiot or what?”

  Billy said nothing.

  “Good fucking answer. And what the hell? A gator?”

  “It wasn’t that bad. She got hold of my arm. Kristen called the hotel doc and he hooked me up with antibiotics. I’m good to go.”

  “Get your ass on a plane. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  This was a teensy problem. After that slamming shower earlier, Billy had no intentions of leaving South Beach for at least a week. Maybe longer. “Can’t do that. We committed to helping Kristen with the senator’s party in two days. You okayed it. We can’t bail on her now. I’m running security.”

  Monk winced and Billy shot him the bird.

  “You motherfucker,” Vic hollered. “I sent you down there for a simple assignment that any dickhead could handle. What I wanted was for you to learn a lesson about how your behavior is making everyone around here nuts, and you squeeze me into letting you stay there? And worse, I don’t think you’ve learned anything because you’re suddenly into something that gets you served up as gator food. I should fire your ass.”

  Billy held his breath. He’d been in trouble with Vic plenty of times, more than he wanted to think about, but never did he seriously believe Vic would launch him. “Listen. I didn’t go looking for this mess. I totally backed into it. Kristen needed help. She’s a client. I was here. What was I supposed to do?”

  Monk gagged and Billy gritted his teeth.

  “How about not get eaten by a gator?” Vic said.

  “Maybe if I’d seen that coming, but who knew?”

  “Fuck it. Be back here Sunday night or you’re fired.”

  Sunday? Suddenly Billy had no interest in going back to Chicago at all. But he earned a ridiculous amount of money doing things that gave him a rush.

  Time for him to learn the delicate art of compromise without totally losing his nuts. “How about Monday? I’ll need to do a postmortem on the party with Kristen on Sunday. Before you start yelling again, this trip is doing what you wanted. I’m getting better. I’m learning to filter.”

  “Filter? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The lack of filter is my problem. I don’t think, I just act. I’m getting better. Monk’ll tell you.” Billy looked at Monk. “Right?”

  Monk laughed again and Billy shoved him with his free hand. “Monk is busy being a douche bag but he knows it’s true. So, Monday it is then.”

  “I didn’t say it’s Monday.”

  Billy made crackling noises into the phone. “What?”

  “I want you back—”

  “You’re breaking up. Let me get to a better spot and call you.”

  He hung up. Monk stood in front of him, howling like a man at a comedy show marathon. “Really?” Billy hollered. “You couldn’t cover me on that one? You had to tell him you’d found me?”

  “Hey, he talked to Izzy while I was on my way down here. He probably figured we’d hooked up by now.”

  “I wish Gina would have those babies and get him off me. I mean, I’m working on it aren’t I?”

  “Gotta admit, the gator thing looks bad. From his view, you’re being the same Billy who wants in the middle of something and doesn’t care how he gets there.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  Monk folded his arms. “Careful, buddy. I was here that first night.”

  Couldn’t argue it. In fact, Monk had been the one who’d sent him to the hotel lobby to investigate. “Maybe initially I was bored and pissy and wanted some action, but now, it’s more about Kristen and getting her through this. This hotel means everything to her. If I can help her, I’m gonna do it. Gator or no gator.”

  Monk shrugged. “I hear ya, but it’s your ass to lose.”

  His ass and his job. “Yeah, it is.” He checked the time on his phone. “Let’s move. I now have four days to figure out who is stealing these fudging cars and if it’s an international operation.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Billy parked Kristen’s boring-as-hell car half a block down from the law office, and he and Monk walked back to the three-story stucco building. A white cargo van was parked in the fire zone in front of the building.

  “Cleaning crew,” Billy said.

  “Maybe. If they’re in the building, chances are the alarm hasn’t been activated yet. Could get lucky. Let’s go around back, get in and out fast.”

  Traffic along the main road whizzed by, but the back half of the building was sheltered by a crop of large, leafy trees that looked like Arkansas oaks.

  Darkness had fully descended, offering nice cover as they strode to the rear of the building. The night air dipped to the low sixties. In Billy’s mind, a perfect night for a couple of guys to be out for some illegal snooping. Unfortunately for them, the back entrance of the building was completely visible to the road on the opposing block.

  Monk slid his do-rag off, covered his hand with it and unscrewed the light bulb on the fixture beside the door. At least the street wasn’t as busy as the one in front. Still, they’d have to be quick about this.

  Billy retrieved two sets of latex gloves from his back pocket and they snapped them on.

  “Give me your tools,” Monk said. “I’m better at locks.”

  As much as Billy wanted to be an ass and argue, what was the point? Considering Monk, next to Vic, was the best lock buster on the team.

  “I don’t see any security cameras.”

  “Me neither. Let’s hope it’s the same inside.”

  Within thirty seconds, they were inside a moderately lit corridor.

  “They need to upgrade that lock,” Billy whispered. “These people have no clue how to keep guys like us out. Maybe they should hire us.”

  An alarm keypad hung on the wall and Billy checked it. System off.

  “Where are we going?” Monk asked.

  “No idea. The law firm has the entire building.”

  “Reception desk?”

  “Yep.”

  They crept along the thick marble floors, padding silently toward the front of the building. Billy stopped at the end of the corridor and shot a look around the two-story lobby with the glass entry doors. No security or cleaning people seated at the circular desk.

  He spun to Monk and, using hand signals, indicated he’d take the left of the desk and Monk should take the other side. They crouched low and quickly moved behind the desk,
out of sight from the entrance.

  On their knees, they began searching. In the top drawer, Billy found a laminated list of office locations and extensions.

  Jackpot. Bradley J. Murphy and Donovan Archer’s offices were on the third floor. 305 and 301.

  He held up three fingers and motioned to the stairs.

  At the top of the stairwell, Billy cracked the door an inch and heard the distant whine of a vacuum cleaner. Damn. The sound came from the south end of the building. He turned back to Monk and swirled his finger in front of him. The go signal.

  Slipping through the door, they slid along the interior wall, avoiding the seascapes that hung in perfect alignment. Nothing like knocking over a painting while on a sneak and peek. After the last painting, Billy came to an office and glanced at the wall plate. 315. To its left was 314. Headed in the right direction.

  More hand signals. Forward motion. At the end of the corridor, Billy bent low and checked around the corner. Another long hallway, but the inside wall stopped a few feet down and revealed a large opening. Bullpen?

  The vacuum stopped.

  A woman stepped into the corridor and Billy reeled backward, jabbing his thumb in the opposite direction. Monk checked the office door they’d just passed, found it unlocked and ducked in. Their hiding space was actually a windowless supply closet.

  Great. They’d have to sit here until the cleaning lady went by. Billy checked his phone. Ten-forty. His guess was the third floor was the last one to be serviced and the cleaning crew would be leaving, most likely setting an alarm.

  A sliver of light shafted through the bottom of the door. Monk dropped to his belly and peeked under it, looking for feet walking by.

  Fifteen seconds later, he jumped up and gave the okay sign. Billy cracked the door, snuck a look. Nothing.

  Billy pointed at Monk, indicating that he should check office 305.

  The whine of the vacuum sounded again from the north end of the floor. This was, in Billy’s opinion, both good and bad news. Good, the cleaning people were still working and the boys had extra time to snoop. Bad, the cleaning people were still working and might spot them.

  They’d have to risk it. Monk whooshed his finger in the air and they marched off to their target locations. Billy tried the handle to Bradley J.’s office. Locked. He signaled Monk, who still had the lock picking tools. In seconds, he had the door open and Billy ducked into the pitch-black office.

  He took his penlight from his pocket, cupped his hand over the end to dim the glare until his eyes adjusted and he could lower the shades.

  A metal three-drawer filing cabinet sat along one wall. To Billy’s way of thinking, Bradley J. must not be a big shot because this office sucked. Besides the filing cabinet, the only other furniture was the cheap wood desk, a leather desk chair and two metal guest chairs. Three neat stacks of folders sat on the desk and Billy helped himself to a scan. Next to the folders, a computer monitor cord lay lifeless and unconnected. Must have taken the laptop home. Eh, that would have been too much to ask anyhow.

  He moved to the filing cabinet, opened the top drawer and winced when a loud creak sounded. Shiznet. WD-40 anyone? Not wanting to waste time, he dove in and found client files in alphabetical order. Lucky day.

  He found three fat hanging folders labeled RDM Auto Group. He flipped through a few pages of billing records and various meeting notes. Yanking the billing records file, he set it on top of the cabinet.

  Dang it, he didn’t have his camera. His phone would have to do.

  No time to go through the small mountain worth of records. Get what you can. He breathed in. Counted twenty to clear his head and closed his eyes. Focus. Working with the idea that the car thefts had recently started, he snapped photos of the records from the last three weeks.

  Next up, the meeting notes. He flipped through the pages and took more photos. Who knew what the hell he was getting here, but he’d print everything later and read it.

  After a few minutes, he checked the time. Gotta go. Returning everything to its proper place, he made his way back down the now quiet hall to the rendezvous point inside the stairwell and waited an intolerable forty-nine seconds for Monk to join him.

  Who the hell knew where the cleaning people were? Hopefully they were still in the building and hadn’t set an alarm.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Billy cracked the door open, peeped into the hallway. Nothing. He opened the door a little wider, stuck his head through. Nothing. Good to go.

  They hustled twenty feet to the back door, stopped at the alarm keypad and read the display.

  What a day. Eaten by a gator, got laid in the shower and the alarm was off. Priceless.

  * * *

  Back at Dante, Billy and Monk strode through the lobby doors and hit the elevator bank with a crush of people heading to the clubs. At midnight this place was a flipping cash cow. M.H. not only knew how to run a hotel, she knew how to make money at it. Another reason to love her. The reasons kept building. Maybe, someone help him, he was ready to take a shot at the dreaded R-word.

  A relationship hadn’t entered his mind in—hell, had it ever entered his mind? Probably not. He was more the grab and go guy when it came to women. But something about Kristen, her steady reserve, her willingness to put up with his antics, settled his busy mind.

  “What’s the plan?” Monk asked.

  The plan. Yes. He’d think about the mission. Everything else made him want to shit elephants. “We head up to my war room, print out these pictures and see what we’ve got. You took pictures, right?”

  Monk scoffed. “Of course. You think I’m twelve?”

  “Just saying.”

  Monk led the pack onto the elevator and held the door for a wicked-sexy blonde in a tight red dress that left no doubt she was commando tonight. The floor should have melted. That’s how hot she was. Billy stared straight ahead. Nope. Not looking again. Not gonna do it.

  And, what kind of evil force drops a beautiful woman, going commando, in front of him at the same time he’s contemplating a relationship? A couple of weeks ago, he’d have been all over this blonde. Now? Forget it. He didn’t know what to do.

  Finally, finally, the elevator dinged their floor and the doors slid open. Billy jumped off that elevator and didn’t turn back.

  Monk let out a whistle. “That blonde? Holy hell.”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “You noticed.”

  Billy used the key card Kristen gave him to unlock the executive suite door. “Hello? Would Izzy not be pissed about this conversation?”

  They stepped through the doorway and stopped in the inner corridor while Billy located the light.

  “Actually, Izzy happens to notice beautiful women. At first, I tried not to respond, but she’d always elbow me and say ‘Look, there’s one. She’s stunning. I wish I had her hair.’ I always have a reason why Izzy’s better looking.” Monk grinned. “It’s not hard. Plus, it’s not a bad deal. I get to look at beautiful women, purely from a male curiosity standpoint that is, and not get in trouble.”

  Billy cupped his hand over his mouth and slid it down his chin. “I don’t think Kristen would be comfortable with that.”

  “Gotta have a level of trust. If there’s no trust, it isn’t gonna work.”

  “It’s not trust.” At least he didn’t think so, but it was probably way too early to tell. “It’s the body image thing. She thinks she’s fat.”

  “She’s not fat.”

  “I know that. She’s the one who can’t get it through her thick skull. She constantly compares herself to her sister.”

  “We all have baggage. You think Izzy is easy? Please. She puts up with my shit, I put up with hers. Somehow, you find the compromise.”

  Reaching the conference room, Billy unlocked the door and flipped the lights on as he stepped in. “How do you find it?”

  “There’s no shortcut. You get to know each other, figure out which buttons are hot. This game Izzy and I play would never w
ork in the reverse. If she commented on good-looking guys, I’d get nuts. She knows that about me and it’s unfair, but it is what it is. Now, I’m sure she probably looks at men all the time and sizes them up. As long as I don’t hear about it, I’m good. She, on the other hand, has no issues with me noticing a beautiful woman. If I were to do something more than look, she would kick my ass. Literally.”

  Nothing about this scenario fit into Billy’s abbreviated schedule. He needed that shortcut because he didn’t have months, or even weeks, to determine how to help Kristen with her self-image issues. “Well, then, I’ve got until Monday because Vic ordered me back.”

  Monk waved that off and dropped into a chair at the conference table. “He was pissed. If you want to stay longer, call him and tell him—no, ask him if you can hang out down here while you’re waiting for your next assignment. He’s not going to say no. Hell, right now, he wants you out of his hair until Gina has these babies. He needs you not to get killed so he can concentrate on his family. The gator thing rattled him. He thought you were down here blowing off steam. Instead you’re getting tossed to a gator by bad guys.”

  “I wanted to blow off steam. Trust me. I backed into this car theft gig.”

  “You didn’t back into it. You went straight for it. Eyes open. You wanted in on the action.”

  He got in on it all right. Billy glanced at his war board and shook his head. “Now I want to figure it out before I leave. I owe that to Kristen.”

  “You think she thinks that? You owe her something?”

  “No. But I want to finish this for her so she doesn’t have to worry about cars disappearing from her lot.”

  Monk smacked his hands on the table. “Then let’s get to work. You, my friend, are short on time.”

  Billy jerked his thumb toward the white board. “This is what I’ve got so far.”

  Monk whistled. “You’ve been busy.”

  “A little. You study it while I print these pictures. Give me your phone and I’ll do yours.”

  Once the photos were printed and Monk was brought to speed, they reviewed the new documents.

  Using a magnet, Billy secured a sheet containing meeting notes to the white board. “They’re careful not to have joint meetings. In none of these notes do Donovan Archer and Bradley J. ever meet.”