Divorced, Desperate and Deceived

by Christie Craig

  Did she trust him with her life? Maybe. Probably. Obviously she trusted him enough to go along with this plan of stealing a car.

  She swung around at the sound of police sirens. Luke squeezed her hand as if to tell her to relax, but when those sirens seemed to stop down the street—right down the street, where her van was—relaxing didn’t seem possible. And just to make things worse, she remembered what he’d said earlier about those witnesses being killed while in police protection.

  She gave his hand a return squeeze. He didn’t react, just motioned to the Dodge Charger. She gave his hand a not so slight tug. He ran his thumb across her palm, slowly, as if to calm her.

  “How does this baby ride?” he asked Harry.

  The salesman stood with hands on each side of a protruding belly that would have put both Kathy’s and Sue’s pregnant ones to shame. “Smooth,” he said, his focus on selling the car and not the police.

  “Do you mind if we take it for a test drive?”

  “Let me grab the keys.” He waddled to the RV parked to the side of the lot, which was obviously his makeshift office. “Can I grab you two a cold bottle of water?”

  “That would be nice,” Luke called back, and then leaned in and whispered in Kathy’s ear. “Just stay calm. You’re doing great.”

  “I think the police stopped at my van,” she said, her throat so tight it hurt to speak.

  “I know,” he said. “Breathe. You’re doing great.”

  She looked at him. “Great? I’m so scared that my heart is chasing butterflies around my chest. I’m about to become a car thief and I gotta pee. Trust me, I’m not doing great.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joey saw it was Pablo, and he let the call go to voice mail. He might pay for it later, but he didn’t care.

  “You not take the call?” Lola asked.

  “Nah, it’s not important,” he replied.

  “Maybe it’s your wife.” Lola’s gaze went to Joey’s left hand.

  He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t have one.” Knowing she was interested enough to wonder if he was available brought a lightness to his chest. He wasn’t fooling himself, though; nothing could ever come of it. But it still felt good. It made him feel younger and not so weighed down, not so muddled in the rut he’d created for himself.

  His phone rang again. He should have known they wouldn’t stop calling. “I should take it, so they’ll leave me alone.” He slid off the stool and stepped away from the counter. “Hello?”

  “Where the hell are you?” Pablo snapped. “We’ve been trying to get Donald. He’s not picking up.”

  Joey glanced at the car. “We’re out where the last call was traced.”

  “Well, the phone’s on the move again—but how the hell would you guys know since you aren’t picking up?”

  On the move? One of the motorcycle guys probably had found it.

  “Put Donald on,” Pablo growled.

  Joey reached up and scratched his chin. “Donald’s sort of…out of it right now.”

  “Out of it? Put him on the fucking phone!”

  “I don’t think he can talk.”

  “What?” Pablo snapped. “Lorenzo’s contact wants him. Is he asleep again?”

  Joey tried to think what to say. “Asleep?”

  “He fell asleep twice on the ride over to the rental car. Wake his ass up.”

  “He’s not sleeping.”

  “Then what the hell is he doing? Tell me he isn’t with some broad? I swear, he eats Viagra like candy.”

  “It’s not a woman,” Joey said.

  “Then fucking get him on the phone.”

  There was only one thing these men respected, and Joey wasn’t above using it. He looked over at Lola to make sure she couldn’t hear. “He…he’s taking a shit.”

  “Oh. Well, why the hell didn’t you say so?” Pablo paused. “How long is he going to be?”

  “Probably a while. I think his breakfast didn’t sit well.”

  “Ah, fuck it. As soon as Donald’s ass is out of the crapper, get over to Highway 101 and Oakwood Drive—or leave his ass there and you get over there. Cops found the florist van. We’ve got to find Hunter and the girl before the police. Corky and I are halfway across the town and stuck behind some huge accident. I heard they’re bringing in a helicopter. We could be locked up here for hours. We’ve only got one man on the inside, and if Hunter and the chick are brought in, it will be a lot harder to take them down.”

  Finding Hunter and taking him down isn’t my job anymore, Joey thought. I quit. Not that Lorenzo knows it yet. But he would when Joey didn’t return to New York.

  Then Joey remembered the redhead and her son. Could he just walk away, knowing Lorenzo’s men would probably catch up and take them out? Joey looked back at Lola, who smiled at him. She smiled at him as if he was a decent guy.

  A decent guy wouldn’t walk away and let an innocent mother get killed. Maybe if someone had been there to protect his own mother, she might have turned over a new leaf. Maybe Joey and his brother wouldn’t have gotten separated and put in foster care. Maybe his brother wouldn’t be doing ten to twelve years in a Jersey prison for dealing.

  “Give the contact my number,” Joey said. “I’ll finish this.”

  “Thought you didn’t want to get your hands dirty,” Pablo sneered.

  “Maybe getting my hands dirty isn’t the worst thing.”

  Pablo laughed. “Lorenzo figured you’d turn around.”

  “Lorenzo was right.” Joey had turned around, just not in the way Lorenzo expected. He wasn’t cut out for this line of work—but he wasn’t cut out to let the others do it, either.

  Hanging up, he moved to the roach coach and looked at Lola. “I have to leave. It’s been really nice talking to you.”

  She picked up his fifty, which still lay on counter. She held it out. “You take this.”

  “No.” He took a step back. “I don’t like owing people.”

  “And I no like it when someone not take my gift. I give you lunch. It was my gift.”

  She stepped away from the counter and came out the door. As she made her way toward him, he appreciated the way her breasts moved inside her red blouse. But not wanting her to think of him as she had the trooper, he forced his eyes up.

  “Please. You take this.” Rising on her tiptoes, she tucked the bill in his pressed shirt pocket.

  He clasped his right palm over her hand and held it against his chest. Her feminine, lotion-soft skin had his heart drumming against his ribs. Was she that soft everywhere? Softer? His gaze lowered to her blouse. He’d bet her full, round breasts were soft. It had been too damn long since he’d touched or been touched by a woman. Eight months, he figured. And that had been a girl he’d met in a bar when celebrating his new job—a girl he’d walked away from the next morning and never seen again. Yes, he was horny. But that didn’t explain the emotional tickle he felt now and had felt earlier when he shook the woman’s hand. It wasn’t all sexual.

  Realizing he still stared at her breasts, he jerked his eyes upward. Their eyes met, held. The tickle grew stronger. He reached up and brushed her cheek with his thumb, watching her closely to make sure his touch wasn’t unwelcome.

  “You are too pretty to be out here alone,” he said.

  She blushed. “Maybe you come back and we talk more. After you take care of your friend.” She motioned to the car.

  His friend? Damn, but he wanted to stay right here. He wished he didn’t have to think about the redhead who might need him. Or about finding a place to dump Donald’s body.

  He moved his finger to the corner of her eye. His chest ached when he traced the half-inch scar there. “That man in Mexico—did he do this?”

  She blinked and nodded, but said, “That’s not important.”

  “It is to me,” he said, and wished he could teach the guy a lesson. “Don’t let anyone treat you bad. You don’t deserve that.” He remembered his mom and the nights he’d listened to what went on betwee
n her and her johns. More times than not, it wasn’t just the normal bump and grind, and the bruises always told the story. Not for the first time, he wished he’d been big enough to teach those johns a lesson. And when he recalled a picture of Lola’s little girl, he said, “Your daughter doesn’t deserve to have to see it, either.”

  “She not see it,” Lola said, confused. But then she smiled. “Don’t let anyone treat you bad, either.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he replied.

  He wanted to lean down and kiss her, but decided she might think that was too forward. He supposed it was. So he nodded another good-bye and, feeling a little awkward, headed toward his car and Donald’s body. As he drove away, she waved. He watched in the rearview mirror, knowing he’d probably never see her again; but crazy as it seemed, he knew he wouldn’t forget her.

  He hadn’t gotten a mile down the road when a cop car sped up behind him, lights flashing and siren screaming. Glancing at the lifeless body in back, he knew he’d been lucky to convince the pretty Hispanic woman Donald was drunk. He doubted he’d be so lucky with a trooper.

  Luke opened the back door of the Charger and waved Kathy in. He put his hand on her back as she lowered herself into the seat, hoping his touch would ease the anxiety in her expression. She quickly got settled, puppy and her purse in her lap, but then she looked up, her hazel eyes round with emotion. He needed her to hold it together just a little longer.

  “She can ride shotgun,” Harry suggested, smiling.

  She motioned for him to shut the door. “This is fine.”

  “I’m ready to give this baby a ride,” Luke said.

  He hurried around to get into the driver’s side. Harry the salesman maneuvered his rotund body into the front passenger seat and passed Luke and Kathy bottles of water.

  “Thank you,” Kathy said.

  From the rearview mirror, Luke saw her draw the puppy to her chest as if a lifeline, and for a second he found himself jealous of the damn beast. Kathy glanced up, and he could see the fear in her hazel eyes. He’d give anything if she hadn’t been pulled into this. But she had, and right now getting her out alive was more important than her emotional state—or her need for a bathroom.

  He started the car engine and pulled out into the street, heading away from the van and the cops. One quick glance in the side mirror revealed they hadn’t left a minute too soon—a group of cops stood by their cruisers, talking, obviously devising a search plan. And he hadn’t made it a block before another police car came roaring past, sirens blaring. Luke held his breath until the trooper passed.

  Harry twisted in his seat and glanced back. “Christ! Looks like a dozen cop cars are right up the street! I’ll bet it’s about what happened over in Piper earlier. I was listening to the police radio about it when you two came up.”

  “What happened?” Kathy asked.

  Harry looked at her, then Luke. “Some men went into a house and shot it to hell and back.”

  “Anybody killed?” Kathy squeaked.

  “They haven’t said yet. But they did say some innocent gal got pulled in and kidnapped. They’ll probably be finding her body off the side of the road somewhere.”

  Kathy’s gasp filled the car. Luke tapped the gas a little harder.

  Harry looked back at Kathy. “Sorry for my bluntness. I just…I just hate it. Senseless crimes tick me off. Cops think it’s a drug deal gone bad. Poor gal.”

  “Drug deal?” Kathy echoed, her voice twice as squeaky.

  Drugs? Luke thought. So, that was the way Lorenzo’s men had decided to play it.

  “Yup. They found cocaine at the house.”

  Luke could feel Kathy’s gaze boring into the back of his head. Was she doubting him? He wanted to look back and offer her a bit of assurance, but damn it, he didn’t have time. Lorenzo’s men had to be close by, ready to finish what they started earlier. And like he’d told Kathy, he didn’t trust anyone—not even someone with a badge. Lorenzo had too many lawmen in his pocket.

  “Oh my!” Kathy said, and he heard her take a deep breath.

  Luke glanced at the salesman. “Do you mind if I take this baby on some back roads? You know, just to see what it can really do.”

  “Have at it,” Harry said. Then he turned back to Kathy. “What kind of pup is that?”

  Kathy didn’t answer, and Luke figured the game was almost up. If she lost it, Harry would be on to them. Luke really wanted a few more miles between them and Lorenzo’s men before that happened.

  “Part pug, I think,” Kathy answered, her voice barely audible.

  “He’s so ugly it makes him lovable.”

  The puppy whined—or was that Kathy?

  “You okay, missy?” Harry asked.

  From the rearview mirror, Luke saw her nod and attempt a smile. Hang in there, sweetheart. Then he said, “You’re right, she drives like a dream,” hoping to draw Harry’s attention.

  “I knew you were gonna love her.” Turning, the salesman ran his hand across the dashboard. “She’s a bargain, too. Everything’s in mint condition, except the radio. I was going to order one…”

  Luke took a right turn off the main road. He’d looked at putting in a septic tank for a customer on some land about ten miles away. The land was about ten miles away from everyone—which would be the perfect place to get rid of Harry Johnson.

  Joey looked in the rearview mirror at the cop speeding up behind him. Much to his surprise, the thing that bothered him most about being caught with a dead guy in his car and the likely subsequent accusations was that Lola would probably hear. Then he remembered the redhead and her boy. If he got hauled to jail, that poor mother was probably going to be killed. The boy would grow up without her. Joey recalled how much he’d missed his own mom, and she’d been a piece of crap. The woman hadn’t even cared if they took a bath! He couldn’t fathom how much a boy would miss the kind of mom who made sure he had toys by the bathtub.

  He felt for his gun and wondered if he could get away without hurting the cop. While he wasn’t really a religious man, he considered sending up a prayer—not so much for himself, but wasn’t helping the kid a worthy cause? He could sure use a little help.

  The flashing light caught his attention again, and letting go of a sigh he moved his hand from the gun. He couldn’t shoot a cop. Nope, he might be able to kill a bad guy, but not a cop. He pulled off to a side street, expecting the police car with its flashing lights and siren to follow. Expecting that in a few minutes he’d be handcuffed and sitting in the back of the police cruiser. But the craziest thing happened: the cop didn’t turn. Joey pulled over to the side of the road and sat in his car, studying the rearview mirror and listening as the police siren grew weaker.

  Joey didn’t shift his gaze. Had the cop simply missed the turn? Would he swing around and come blaring back after him? Obviously not, he decided after a moment.

  “Well, shit,” he said, and the tightness in his chest faded. He released a deep laugh.

  He turned and eyed Donald. “Looks like it might be my lucky day. Not so much yours, though.” The bluish tint to the man’s skin had gotten worse.

  Scanning the side of the road, Joey considered what he needed to do next. He glanced again in the backseat. “What do you think? This place okay for your final resting spot?”

  He’d just put his hand on the door latch when he heard another engine. A truck turned down the road, and Joey faced forward and started his car, but before he pulled back on the road, the truck took another left and vanished. But it still made him reconsider his plan to dump the body. He should probably wait until night.

  He spotted Donald’s cap in the front seat. The man had bought it at a service station that morning. Joey picked it up and laughed as he read the words printed across the top: SHIT HAPPENS AND THEN YOU DIE. “I guess you saw it coming,” he muttered.

  He looked at Donald, considered putting him in the trunk. But the memory of Freddy’s body gave him pause.

  That’s when he remembered Ber
nie. From the movie. He’d loved that movie. A smile curled Joey’s lips. He might be stuck hauling Donald’s dead ass around, but perhaps he could make him look…a little less dead.

  He put the car in park, got out and limped to open the back door. Damn, if his toe still didn’t hurt. He grabbed Donald by the shoulders and sat the man upright. “You getting a little stiff, are you?” he asked. Then, setting the cap on Donald’s coarse, gray hair, he tilted the brim downward to hide the man’s bluish tint. “You just nap away,” he muttered, and couldn’t help snickering. “I’ll bet you saw that movie, too, didn’t you?”

  Reaching around Donald, Joey pulled the seat belt over the big man’s barrel chest and secured it. While fixing his collar, Joey laughed again. “I know you hate to be belted in, but it really might have saved your ass.” His smile faded. “Your sorry ass.

  “Damn, you really shouldn’t have offed Freddy,” he continued. “I know the boss told you to, but…I saw you two the night before, laughing and sharing stories about some gal you both knew. You seemed to like Freddy. How could you just go and kill him like that?” Letting go of a deep breath, Joey straightened the other man’s jacket, pulled the sunglasses from his pocket and fitted them on the nose.

  “How did you do it?” Joey asked, as if the dead man might respond. “How did you live with it? Or did you die with it?” He shook his head. “Guess I might be finding out soon, huh? I might not kill a cop, but I will kill Pablo or Corky if I have to. Not for me, but for that kid.”

  Joey hesitated, shaking his head. “I’d have killed you, too, if you’d gone after that pregnant blonde. Does that make me as bad as you? Maybe,” he muttered in answer to his own question. “But some people just don’t deserve to die.”

  Joey got out and crawled back into the driver’s seat. He shifted the rearview mirror so he could see Donald. With sunglasses on, the man looked…well, alive.

  “You ready?” Joey asked. “Let’s go rescue us a redhead. Maybe by the grace of God you’ll get some brownie points for being present—in body, at least, if not in spirit.”