by JB Lynn
“Tomorrow,” Armani pledged.
Joy hurried away, focused on her phone.
I looked at the Scrabble tiles she’d chosen. E H O P R S T. “What do you think they mean?”
Armani shrugged. “I dunno. But I think she might be perfect for Vincent.”
I chuckled. “A cop and a mobster’s henchman?”
She stuck her spoon in her pudding mixture. “I don’t think he’d like being called a henchman, and what makes you think she’s a cop?”
“Maybe I’m psychic,” I joked weakly, trying to quell the wave of panic that rose inside me. She was right. I shouldn’t have known Joy was a cop. I’d slipped up, letting two facets of my life bleed into one another. The knowledge made me queasy.
“She does look like a cop,” Armani admitted. She picked up the tiles Joy had chosen and held their weight in her good hand. “Maybe that’s why I’ve got the feeling she’s in danger.”
“Danger?” My voice squeaked as I picked up the card left by Detective Joy Gilbert.
Armani nodded. “Something pretty bad is about to happen to her.”
“What?” I asked, no longer worried about blurring lines. If Armani could figure out how to save the cop, I’d take the help.
She shook her head. “If my gift was that clear, I wouldn’t be working at Insuring the Future.” She chuckled. “That reminds me, has Loretta gotten any closer to finding the thing she’s looking for?”
I shook my head, doing my best to ignore the twinge of guilt that soured my stomach. Aunt Loretta had asked for my help saving her shop, and I really hadn’t done anything to help find the deed.
“And you haven’t been able to figure out what DINGBAT means?”
“Nope.”
She dumped the tiles back in the bag. “You will.”
I hoped she was right. A lot of people were depending on me.
~#~
After our cafeteria feast, I dropped Armani at home and then headed toward Patrick’s apartment, wanting to thank him for taking care of Piss.
But before I got halfway there, I got another call.
I pulled to the side of the road before answering since some studies have indicated that talking on the phone while driving is more dangerous than drinking and driving. ‘Cuz while I may dabble in dangerous sideline, I’m all about safety. Besides, Ms. Whitehat tends to say things that shock me, never a good thing to happen when you’re behind the wheel.
I answered just before it went to voicemail, bracing myself for her haughty tone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mags.”
The tension seeped out of me at the sound of Patrick’s voice. “Hey.”
“I wanted to…” He trailed off.
I waited a second and then asked worriedly, “Are you there?”
“Achoo!”
“Bless you.” Aunt Susan could rest easy. My manners are intact.
“Sorry, allergies or something,” Patrick muttered.
“I hope you’re not getting sick.”
“I’m fine. I wanted to check and see how you’re doing.”
“Better now.”
“Better now because things have improved or”—his voice dipped lower—“or better because you’re talking to me?”
“Both,” I murmured as certain body parts tingled in response to his sexy tone.
“Mmmm.”
I could practically hear his smile of satisfaction.
A companionable silence stretched between us as we each entertained our own thoughts for a long moment.
Finally, realizing that the side of the road wasn’t the optimal spot for my wayward fantasies, I cleared my throat. “Did you find Marlene?”
His tone all business, he replied, “No. Sorry she gave me the slip. She hasn’t come home yet?”
“I don’t know. I went to the hospital.”
“Katie’s okay?”
“She’s great.”
“Achoo!”
“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” I had a terrible thought. “You’re not allergic to Piss are you?”
He chuckled. “Nope. Just allergies or something.”
“I wanted to thank you for taking care of her.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“It was important to me.”
“I know. That’s why I did it.”
His quiet statement hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of other people, but here was this man who wanted to take care of me. If he wasn’t married, he’d be perfect for me.
Tears burned my eyes. I smashed the steering wheel with my palm, needing to vent my frustration.
Life was so unfair.
“You there, Mags?” His concern should have soothed me. Instead it felt like sandpaper being dragged across a wound.
“I’m here,” I choked out.
“Are you...?”
He sneezed again.
“Bless you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure,” I replied with forced flippancy. “Dad’s managed to, once again, bring law enforcement down on me, Marlene’s getting into who knows what kind of trouble, and I’ve got a job that I don’t know how to do.”
“You’ve got a job?” His tone crackled with annoyance.
Realizing he thought I meant I had an assassination assignment from Delveccio, I quickly said, “Not that kind of job.”
“What kind?” he asked suspiciously.
I stared out the car window at the traffic whizzing by.
“Aunt Loretta needs help with something.”
“Oh.” There was so much relief packed into that single syllable that I couldn’t help but smile a little. “I wouldn’t worry about Marlene.”
Knowing that she owed her pimp meant that advice was useless, but I didn’t bother telling him that.
“Achoo!”
“Bless you.”
“And as for the Griswalds, they’re after your father, not you.”
“They’re too close for comfort,” I groused.
“I know. Which is why, if you know where your dad is, you should tell me so that I can bring him in.”
“But I don’t know.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
There was a long silence on the other end before he said quietly. “Last time you heard from him you didn’t tell me.”
I clenched my fist, trying to keep hold of my rising frustration level. “So now you don’t believe me?”
“It almost got you killed, Mags.”
I hung my head, feeling like a heel for being annoyed with him when he was clearly concerned about my safety.
“I really don’t know where he is,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be okay,” he replied softly.
I knew it was something he couldn’t guarantee, but it still felt nice and safe to be cocooned by his caring intentions. Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the headrest. “Promise?”
A sharp rap against my window scared me half to death and drowned out his reply.
Chapter Eight
“Aaaah!” I screamed. I opened my eyes, searching for this latest source of danger.
“Let me in! Let me in!” A fist banged against the front passenger window.
“Go away! Leave me alone!” I shouted, fumbling for the gear shift so I could get the hell out of there. This would teach me to just pull over on the side of the road. Safety, my ass.
“Mags?” Patrick asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“Open the door,” the voice pleaded.
Something in the tone, cut through my panic and I took a closer look at my would-be assailant.
Marlene’s tear-streaked face stared at me through the window as she tried to get the door to open. “Hurry, Maggie.”
That’s when I saw the rather large man bearing down on her, an expression of rage contorting his face into an ugly mask.
“Shit.” Without taking my eyes off him, I groped blin
dly for the switch that would unlock the door.
Marlene kept yanking on the door handle until finally I hit the right button. She jerked the door open, leapt inside, and slammed it closed as the man reached the car. I smashed the button again, locking him out.
“What the heck are you doing out here?” I asked.
“I come here a lot. It’s the last place we stopped before going to the carnival. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
I looked around and realized she was right. It was the place we’d stopped all those years ago. Mom had insisted on stopping to pick some of the raspberries that grew wild by the roadside and Darlene had declared herself a “berry princess.” It had been a magical moment before the hell that came when Darlene went missing hours later.
My reminiscing was interrupted by the guy kicking Marlene’s door.
Terrified, she tried to scramble into my lap the way DeeDee does when a thunderstorm is raging. Like the dog, she didn’t fit, especially because of the steering wheel.
“Get out here now, Jewel,” her attacker shouted, pounding on the roof of my car for emphasis.
Marlene, arms wrapped around my neck, screamed in my ear.
Since he seemed intent on using violence to get her and because he used her hooker name, I decided that he must be Wally, her pimp.
Fear and fury swirled inside me as I shouted, “Get the hell away from us.”
Unable to pry Marlene off of me, I reached for the gearshift.
Picking up a huge rock, he rounded the front of the car, heading toward my door. “I’m going to kill you.”
Blindly slamming the car into what I hoped was drive, I stomped on the gas pedal as hard as I could.
We rocketed backward, but because no one was steering, we swerved into oncoming traffic.
In the midst of honking horns, squealing brakes, and shouted curses, I stepped on the brake, bringing us to a hard stop in the middle of the road. The momentum of the abrupt halt drove Marlene’s shoulder into my throat, cutting off my air supply.
Intense pain and a lack of air meant it took everything I had to successfully pull the car back onto the shoulder of the road.
I gasped, desperate to breathe, a shadowy darkness closing in on me, while a hulking man approached the window.
Chapter Nine
Shoving Marlene off of me took a Herculean effort, but suddenly I could breathe again.
“Ma’am? Ma’ams? Are you okay?”
I struggled to focus on the source of the voice. A big man, even bigger than the one who’d been attacking the car, leaned over and peered into the window.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
Unable to speak because it felt like I’d swallowed a billiards ball, I nodded.
“Can you open the door?”
“Don’t,” Marlene whispered.
I ignored her, knowing instinctively that the man with the blonde hair, blue eyes, and worried frown could be trusted.
I unlocked the door and he swung it open.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head while massaging my throat.
He looked past me to my sister. “What about you, ma’am?”
“We’re f-f-fine, officer.” Marlene’s assertion was less than convincing considering she was trembling like someone with hypothermia.
I blinked and took in the officer’s uniform. It was probably a good thing I couldn’t yet speak since the only thought that came to mind was, “Great. Another cop.”
The cop’s name tag identified him as Sergeant Victor. “You swerved into traffic.”
“We were being chased,” I whispered painfully.
“Chased?” He looked alarmed. “By who?”
I looked to Marlene to explain, noticing for the first time the dark smudge of a bruise blooming on her cheek. She looked away.
I wondered what Patrick would say about me getting a moving violations ticket. It was probably a direct violation of his “Don’t Get Caught” rule. I winced at the thought of how pissed he’d be. Then I let out a yelp, remembering I’d hung up on him.
I bent over to look under the seat for my phone.
“What’s wrong?” Marlene asked worriedly.
“Phone,” I whispered. “I dropped my phone.”
“You shouldn’t use the phone and drive,” Sergeant Victor lectured. “Only hands-free are legal in the state of New Jersey.”
“Great.” I felt around for the phone. My voice was scratchier than one of Aunt Leslie’s hemp bracelets.
Victor chuckled. “I’m not going to ticket you.”
“Here it is.” Marlene handed me my phone.
“I need to make a call,” I told Victor, disengaging my seatbelt. “May I get out of the car?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He took a step back, but grasped one of my elbows to steady me when I swayed unsteadily once I was standing.
“I’m fine. Do you mind? This is a private call.”
Shrugging, he circled the car to go open Marlene’s door.
I stumbled a few paces while I placed the call, taking care not to step into the path of oncoming traffic. I held the phone to my ear and was pretty sure I heard a sneeze over the dull roar of the passing cars. “Are you there?”
“What the hell, Mags?” Patrick sounded more ragged than I’d ever heard him.
“Sorry. There was this guy chasing Marlene and…” I looked around, trying to spot the pimp, but he was nowhere in sight. The arrival of the cop must have scared him off.
“What guy?”
“Her old pimp.”
“Wally?”
“I think so.” Hating that he knew more about Marlene’s past than I did, I leaned against the hood of a beat up, old, yellow Mustang parked behind us. It was warm and solid and steady, which was a good thing since it seemed like the rest of the whirl felt slightly off-kilter.
“Why is he after her?”
“She owes him money.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“Now?” I glanced over at Marlene, who was being examined by Sergeant Victor. “There’s someone else…”
“I heard.”
His tone was taut with annoyance and rubbed me the wrong way.
“Look, this wasn’t my fault. None of this was my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t go looking for trouble. It just finds me. So before you go getting all high-and-mighty on me, maybe you should—“
“Easy, sweetheart,” he said gently, using the same tone he soothed the injured animals with. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“None of it,” I insisted, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. “I just have the world’s worst…” I trailed off, my mouth dropping open.
“Mags?”
“Um… yeah?” I muttered absentmindedly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Not as fine as Marlene.”
“Huh?”
I watched in amazement as Sergeant Victor wrapped his shirt around Marlene’s shoulders and she leaned her head against his shoulder. While it registered in the back of my mind that Victor’s actions were strange, I was too distracted by the cop’s Channing Tatum physique to pay much attention to anything else. “Holy cow.”
“Is something wrong?” Patrick asked.
“Um… I don’t think so.” I shook my head and averted my eyes. It’s bad form to mentally drool over a guy while talking to another man.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Just peachy.” Although, not as peachy as Marlene appeared to be.
“That call… You’re going to be the death of me, Mags.”
Considering that Delveccio had once almost hired me to take out Patrick, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “I’ve got to get Marlene back to the B&B.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“When am I ever okay?” I quipped lightly and disconnected the call before he could reply.
&nbs
p; I walked back to Marlene and Sergeant Victor.
The cop’s concern was evident as he cradled my sister’s frail form against him. “She’s going into shock.”
Taking in Marlene’s full-body trembling, I had to agree with his assessment. “She had quite the scare.”
“I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital. But she should go home and get some rest.”
Marlene gave me a worried look.
“Don’t worry.” I opened the passenger’s door, trying to not let my eyes dwell on the fresh dent that had been left by Wally’s kick. “I’ll make sure the witches back off.”
“Witches?” Victor asked.
“Bitches,” Marlene corrected bitterly as she climbed into the car.
“Our aunts.” I closed her door firmly. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant Victor.”
“My friends call me Doc.” There was a strain in his voice I couldn’t identify.
I smoothed my palm over the dent in the door. “Yeah?” I couldn’t imagine ever being friends with another cop, so I really didn’t care what he was called.
“Yeah. There’s kind of a funny story about that.”
I turned to shake his hand and realized he was still shirtless. “Oh.” I looked from his bare chest to Marlene. “She has your shirt.”
“Let her keep it,” he urged. “I’ll follow you to make sure you get home safely.” Turning around, he headed for the yellow Mustang.
I got into the driver’s seat of my car. Marlene’s eyes were closed. She was pretending to sleep, just like she’d done whenever she encountered a problem as a little kid. Understanding her reticence, I played along and silently drove back to the B&B, keeping a close eye on the yellow Mustang following closely behind.
It was mercifully quiet when we pulled into the driveway.
“You’ve got his shirt,” I reminded Marlene as she stirred, pretending to awaken.
She pulled it from her shoulders and tossed it into my lap. “Tell him thanks.”
“Why don’t you…?” I began, but she jumped out of the car and ran inside before I could finish.
Scooping up the shirt, I slowly got out of the car and walked toward the Mustang idling at the edge of the driveway. Sergeant Victor climbed out as I approached.
“She said to say thank you.”