by L. J. Taylor
“I wish I hadn’t dropped my purse when that guy grabbed me. I could really use my cell phone right now to call my boyfriend,” Ivy said.
“Your boyfriend? What can he do to protect us against armed assassins?” Kathy asked.
“You’d be surprised. He could bring some of his boys. They’d take care of these fools,” Ivy said.
“What kind of man are you dating?” Kathy shook her head. “Never mind, we’ll deal with that later. That’s actually a good idea - getting to a phone I mean. We could call 911 and get the police to come down and get us. We need to knock on some doors and get one of these people to let us in and use their phone.”
“But what if he’s out there, just waiting for us to come out?”
“That’s not likely. If he was on this floor already, he’d have checked in here by now. He can’t watch every trash room on every floor to see if we come out. He could check them though. I’ll go out first and knock on the doors. It’s me they want. If they get me, they might leave you alone. You just be ready to blast anyone who walks through this door.”
Ivy grabbed Kathy’s arm. “No. I’m not letting you go out there alone. Are you crazy? You always want to be Wonder Woman. This isn’t a game. This is for real. There are real killers out there. It took teamwork for us to get this far. It will take more teamwork to get us out of here. I’ll go first. I have the gun. Besides, two people can knock on more doors than one.”
“Give me the gun,” Kathy said.
“Do you know how to shoot?” Ivy asked.
“I’ve gone to a shooting range a couple of times. I have a clue. Your shot, on the other hand, missed that guy by a mile and put a hole in my wall.”
Ivy twisted her lips. “Oh, excuse me for missing the assassin after I just finished fighting off another assassin who had a knife to my throat. Jeez, it’s just drywall.”
Kathy stared to retort, but the absurdity of their argument hit her and she shook her head. “Come on.” She slowly opened the door to the hallway and inched her way along the wall of the elevator bank. When she reached the edge, she peeked up and down the hallway. It was empty. She walked quickly down the hall to the first apartment and knocked on the door. There was no response. Ivy walked to the apartment across the hall and banged on the door. There was no response.
The door to an apartment at the end of the hallway opened and a little old lady peered out. Kathy recognized the snow white hair. It was the Treasurer of the condo association. “Oh, Mrs. Carmichael. I need your help.”
“Kathy, is that you banging on those doors?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I need to use your telephone to call the police. You see, burglars broke into my apartment. My sister and I were able to fight them off and get away, but we’re afraid to go back up there.” She felt a little guilty lying to Mrs. Carmichael, but she didn’t want to scare the woman to death by letting her know that armed killers were after them. She headed down the hallway toward Mrs. Carmichael’s apartment.
“Burglars? Oh my. Thank God you girls are safe. Come on in.”
Kathy turned to make sure Ivy was following her. What she saw nearly gave her a heart attack. Ivy was following her down the hall; however, she was not the only one. Wilkes stalked down the hall toward them, his gun aimed at Ivy.
“Ivy get down!” Kathy turned and pushed Mrs. Carmichael into her apartment. “Call the police.”
Ivy spun around and fired a round at Wilkes. He ducked out of the way, giving Ivy a chance to dive for cover inside a doorway alcove.
At that moment, Charles came running out of the stairwell across from Mrs. Carmichael’s apartment. He pushed Kathy into the apartment and pointed a finger at her when she started to run back outside. “Stay in there.”
“My sister’s out there!”
“I’ll get her,” he said.
Silenced bullets flew past them and thudded into the wall. Kathy screamed and stepped inside Mrs. Carmichael’s apartment. Charles ducked into the stairwell for a second. He then took a deep breath, came out and returned Wilkes’ fire. He kept firing as he headed down the hall toward the doorway alcove Ivy hid in. Wilkes backed down the hall and took cover outside the trash room, giving Charles the opportunity to get to Ivy.
“Hi, I’m Charles,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Ivy said. They transferred their weapons to their left hands and shook hands.
“You might want to continue the introductions after we deal with the assassin,” Kathy called out.
Ivy shook her head. “She has elephant ears.”
Charles grinned. “And a mouth like a razor blade.”
“I heard that,” Kathy said. “Mrs. Carmichael called the police. They’re on their way down from my place.”
Charles took Ivy’s gun out of her hand and checked the ammo. He motioned for her to get behind him and squeeze into a corner of the alcove. He then dropped into a crouch, pushed out his left hand, aimed one of the weapons in Wilkes’ general direction and fired. He got lucky. Wilkes grunted with pain. Charles launched himself out of the alcove, turned and fired both guns at the assassin, who was already clutching his leg. His second shot hit him in the throat. Wilkes dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, clutching at his neck.
At that moment, the elevator bells rang and the doors opened. Police officers rushed into the hallway their weapons drawn. They aimed them at Charles.
“Drop your weapons! Do it now! Get down on the ground! Face down!” they screamed at him.
Charles carefully set his weapons onto the floor. He then laid face down and laced his hands behind his head.
Kathy rushed out into the hallway.
“Ma’am, get back inside. This is police business,” said one of the officers.
Kathy continued walking down the hallway. “I’m Kathy Brooks, the person who called you from apartment 2011. This,” she said, pointing at the assassin lying on the floor, “is the man who tried to kill us.” This,” she said, pointing at Charles, “is my client. He saved our lives.”
The police allowed Charles to get up. The first thing he did was walk over to Kathy and take her in his arms. He closed his eyes and held her tightly for a moment. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Kathy closed her eyes and held on. It felt so good to be safe in his arms. “I was afraid I’d lost you too.” She pulled back a little and looked up at him. “Thank you for saving Ivy’s life. Mine too.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Kathy broke away from Charles and went to her sister who was still cringing in a corner of the alcove. She gave Ivy a big hug. “Come on out, Sweetie. It’s okay. It’s over. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“So am I,” Ivy said. “Hanging out with you is never boring, but this was a little too exciting.”
Kathy laughed, as did Charles and the police officers who overheard her comment.
The police took statements from Kathy, Charles, Ivy and Mrs. Carmichael who appeared to be quite excited by the incident. No doubt she’d have a lot to tell her bridge buddies the next day.
After the local police were done with them, Tyler and the other F.B.I. agents took Charles and Kathy into protective custody.
“What about my sister?” Kathy asked.
Ivy shook her head. “No. I don’t need to go into protective custody. The only reason they went after me was because I was with you. I’m better off letting Deke and his boys protect me. Trust me when I say that no-one in their right mind would come after me with them around. Don’t worry about me. You just make sure you stay safe. Don’t take any crazy chances.”
“I don’t know what I’m worried about more - you being out there without witness protection or you being so tight with that thug and his boys. The only reason I’m letting you go is because you’d probably be in more danger if you stayed with me. You be careful out there,” Kathy said.
“I will.”
CHAPTER XXI
The agents took Charles and Kathy to a safe house in Coral Gables. It was a l
uxurious four bedroom home with a two car garage and a pool in back. Tyler gave them the grand tour.
Kathy looked at the expensive artwork and furnishings and raised her eyebrows. “So, these are my federal tax dollars at work.”
“Not really,” Tyler said. “The house used to belong to a drug trafficker. We took him down in the 90’s and impounded it. The Bureau’s been using it ever since.”
“Oh.” Kathy liked Tyler. He was funny and attentive and she could tell that he and Charles were like brothers.
He showed her one of the bedrooms. “This will be your room. I figured you’d want this one since it has its own bathroom.”
Kathy smiled. “Yes. Thank you. It was very considerate of you to think about that.”
Tyler shrugged. “I have three sisters.”
“Oh, I see. So you’re well trained.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”
“I’m just going to freshen up a little,” she said. “I’ll be downstairs soon.”
“Okay. See you later.”
After he left, Kathy walked over to the bedroom door and closed it. She crossed the room and threw herself facedown onto the bed. She hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. In fact, she was still wearing the clothes she’d worn to work and then to dinner the night before. She needed a shower, a bed, and a therapist - in that order. She flipped over onto her back and threw her arm over her eyes. Who was she kidding? She needed Charles. She thought about how safe and warm she had felt in his arms and how he’d risked his life to save Ivy. He’d raced right over to her place after fending off his own would be killers to make sure she was safe.
God help her, she loved the man. How could she not? He’d earned it. She never had a hero before or even a man reliable enough to be there for her when she needed him. In her experience, men weren’t the most reliable or trustworthy creatures. Her father had cheated on her mother. Her ex-husband cheated on her completing the vicious cycle.
Charles was certainly no choir boy. He had deceived her with respect to his ultimate agenda; but he seemed to have had a change of heart. She thought about how he had offered to settle his case - even though he really didn’t want to - just to keep her from having to go through the Florida Bar proceeding.
That was the least of her problems now. It’s funny how a near death experience could help put everything into perspective. She flopped back onto her stomach and groaned. She had to get up, take a shower, change her clothes and start figuring out what they were going to do strategy wise. She had a case to win, a client to represent and, if she lived long enough, a law license to save. She dragged her tired bones off the bed and into the shower, stripping along the way.
The shower felt great. Having the warm water slide over her skin loosened up the knots she’d been carrying in her neck and shoulders all day. She grabbed some of the pomegranate body wash she had brought from home and lathered up. She rinsed the front side of her body first and then turned to let the warm water cascade over her shoulders and back. The shower curtain opened. She was about to scream bloody murder when she realized that it was Charles. She threw her squeegee at him. It hit him dead in the face. “Charles, you almost gave me a damned heart attack. You know better than to sneak up on me like that after the night we just had. What’s the matter with you?”
Charles didn’t respond. He absently wiped soap from his face with one hand while staring at her as if he were dying of thirst in a desert and she was an oasis.
His gaze made her body tingle. The bathroom heated up with more than just the steam from the shower. She bit her bottom lip. “Isn’t this how we got into trouble in the first place?”
“I don’t care. I can’t go another day without you.” He reached out, grabbed her by the waist, pulled her toward him and kissed her hungrily. The kiss sparked a reaction in the pit of her stomach that traveled lower. She kissed him back with a hunger just as fierce.
Her wet torso soaked his shirt. She could feel the buttons digging into her skin. She pushed back, unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it over his arms. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, all the while looking into his eyes. He unzipped them and let them fall to the floor. He took off his briefs and kicked them aside. He climbed into the bathtub and kissed her again. She reached down, grabbed his manhood and ran her hands up and down his length. He was rock hard.
He moaned. Their kisses grew deeper and deeper until they were all but devouring each other. He picked her up by the legs and walked forward until her back fell against the wall. He entered her. She was so wet and he felt so good. She moaned and began to grind her hips against him, wanting more. He pulled back and plunged into her. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He plunged into her again and again taking her up and over the line of sanity. She cried out and rode wave after wave of orgasm. He roared and ground himself against her. His knees buckled slightly with his release. He set her down gently and held her. They remained like that for a little while - her face against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, the water pouring down over them like a baptism. She could have stayed in his arms forever, but she knew she couldn’t.
She sighed. “We need to clean up and get downstairs. The Feds are probably wondering where we are.”
Charles chuckled. “I’m sure they have a pretty good idea.”
“Oh, great. That’s all I need – a bunch of yahoos thinking about us getting lucky instead of focusing on what we have to do next,” she said.
“They’re professionals. They know how to multitask,” Charles said.
Kathy laughed. She pushed him away, grabbed some of the pomegranate soap and smeared it over his chest. “Clean up.”
He eyed her. “That felt nice. Would you mind going a little lower?”
She turned away, grabbed some more soap and began to lather herself again. “No perverted sex games. We have work to do.”
“Can we play them later?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
***
Manning sat in a parked utility van outside Morgan Sr.’s house waiting for him to return from his morning run. He couldn’t believe Peachtree had sent two teams after Charles Morgan, Jr. and his attorney and both teams had botched the job. They’d either been killed or taken into custody.
He should have handled the operations himself. The men Peachtree sent were good, but Morgan was better. Even though Morgan had caused nothing but grief since the case began, Manning couldn’t help but feel a grudging admiration toward the man. His attorney was no slouch either. She and her sister had managed to get the best of some well-trained operatives.
The lawsuit had to go away. It was the only way to protect his team and the agency. In deciding how to best accomplish that goal, he’d considered making Morgan disappear. Although, at first glance, it appeared to be the easiest scenario, it wasn’t. The lawsuit was too public and Morgan’s disappearance would be highly suspicious.
He’d considered making Peachtree and Wilkes disappear, along with enough funds to throw the company into bankruptcy. That too would look suspicious in light of recent events. Still, he’d keep that option open in the event all else failed.
He decided that the best way to get rid of the lawsuit was to convince Morgan to settle it. Blackmailing his girlfriend with the possible loss of her law license hadn’t achieved that goal; neither had the murder of his reporter friend. Apparently, Morgan needed to be threatened with the loss of someone he cared about more - like his father. An evil smile crossed Manning’s face. Yes. That was the best way.
He’d watched the old man every day that week. He had a set routine. Every morning, he left the house at 6:00 a.m., jogged for approximately two miles then stopped at a Starbucks on the way back to pick up two coffees. By 10:00 a.m., he was at the golf course playing a few rounds with his buddies.
After lunch, he’d spend the afternoons running errands or performing tasks around the house. He would then either have dinner a
t home or take his wife out to eat. After dinner, he would watch television or fool around with her. It wasn’t a bad life at all. Too bad it was about to be disrupted.
It was almost a shame he was going to have to resort to kidnapping and extortion. He would have liked to have faced Morgan in a fair fight. But he couldn’t take any chances. There was too much at stake.
He picked up his cell phone and tried to reach Peachtree. He hadn’t been able to reach him since Giada reported the botched assassinations. His calls went directly to voicemail. Giada and Peachtree were probably too busy going at it somewhere to answer the telephone.
He was about to leave a message when he saw the old man enter his house. He disconnected the call and hooked his cell phone to his belt. He then grabbed a meter and a clip board and turned to the two men in the back of the van.
“I’m going in,” he said. “Stay on com. I’ll call you when I’m ready to bring him out.”
He exited the van, walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. After a moment he heard footsteps. He saw the big man peek through the window in the front door before he opened it.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Good morning, Sir. I’m from Florida Power and Light,” Manning said. “I’m here to read the meter.”
“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Morgan Sr. asked.
Manning nodded and pretended to stifle a yawn. “Yes Sir, it is. Sorry about that.”
The old man smiled. “Oh well, just doing your job. Come on in. The meter is out back.”
He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Manning in. When he turned to close the door, Manning took advantage of the moment to wrap his arms around the old man’s neck and squeeze with his forearms. The lack of oxygen to the brain made the old man pass out. He slumped. Manning let him fall to the floor. He stood over him, breathing heavily, listening for any signs of Mrs. Morgan. Hearing none, he grabbed his radio and signaled to his men.