He did not. The struggle to free myself threatened to consume me. I had to keep a level head so I could fight, but fear had set in. There was no suppressing it. I clawed. I bit. I cried.
And then he pushed me away.
Only too late did I realize why.
Chapter 16
“What were you thinking?” the angry voice demanded.
“Rand?” I opened my eyes.
“Answer me!”
“Stop yelling,” I muttered. My head felt tight. As if it was stretching from the inside. “Where am I?”
“At my place. What were you doing in that part of town? Do you have any common sense in that tiny head of yours?”
Fragments of the night were coming back to me. Spooner wanted the necklace. A scuffle. Then he pushed me into the lights.
“Did you run me over?” I asked Rand who looked at me as if he wanted to toss the truck into reverse and have another go at me.
“You dove into the middle of the road.”
“I was pushed.”
“You dented my truck with your big head.”
“You said I have a tiny head.”
“You’re paying for damages.”
“Put it on my tab.” At this rate, I’d be working for free for the next ten years.
“Who was he?”
“He said he was Detective Spooner, but he didn’t have ID and everything he said was a lie.”
“He tried to abduct you.”
“Yes, that was the feeling I had when he dragged me down the street.”
“Mars, I’m trying to be patient, but you’re making it very difficult.”
“You’re starting to sound like Brett.”
A vein in his neck pulsed. Yep, they were definitely related.
“I would’ve been fine if you hadn’t run me over. Mrs. Janowski and the ladies were just down the block waiting in the car. They would’ve come. Where are they now?”
“Thankfully, I have no idea.” He stood. “Where was the golden child during all of this?”
“Probably at the strip club.”
Rand looked at me as if I had spoken in duck calls instead of English. “For God’s sake, he’s not at a strip club. He’s always been too disgustingly pure for that.”
I remembered back to when I’d first met Brett. He had been stripping at that same club, and there was nothing pure about him except for one-hundred percent pure sculpted man.
“I think you’ve taken this golden child nonsense too far,” I said, attempting to sit up but floundering instead. Was I on an air mattress? Rand offered no help. “He’s been working at the club, and one of the strippers is sleeping at this office.”
A raised brow. “And where is he sleeping?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I scanned the empty room for a clock. “What time is it?”
“Nearly two in the morning.”
That means I had been passed out for seven hours. “Did I hit my head?”
“Yes, on my grill.”
“Do I have a concussion?”
He shrugged. “You’ll be fine. Your head did more damage to my truck.” He reached into his pocket for his ringing phone, then frowned as he answered. “I thought I might hear from you.” His words were coated with silk, yet he didn’t look happy. “What do you care if she’s okay or not? I heard you have a stripper in your office. A plaything for after hours?” Rand put his hand over the phone, then leaned over to whisper to me, “You owe me for this.”
“What do I owe you?”
“You broke my truck. I was on my way to get my own plaything tonight. Instead I had to tend to you.”
“You have a plaything?” It didn’t seem right. He hadn’t been in Wisconsin for that long. I’ve been here my whole life and I’m as popular as a piranha. Rand comes strutting into town with a bad attitude and extra-heavy baggage, and he has a girl. It didn’t seem fair.
Rand smiled as he listened. “Where is she?” A wicked grin spread. “She’s in bed right now. At my place.”
I grabbed for the phone, but Rand moved away.
“Rand!” I warned.
“What do you care if the golden child knows?”
“Rand!”
“Sorry, I have to go,” he said into the phone. “She’s calling for me.”
Rand pocketed the phone and turned to leave. “You can thank me by getting back to work tomorrow.”
“Rand! Why on earth should I thank you? You know Brett doesn’t see reason when it comes to you. He probably believed you.”
“Exactly. You’re welcome.”
I glared at him. “Why would I want Brett to think I was sleeping with you?”
He studied me for a moment before saying, “It’s better to level the playing field. It’s not right for you to carry all the pain by yourself.” As he walked out the door, he added. “Be ready for work tomorrow.”
“Wait! Where’s my phone?”
“I ran it over.” He looked at me almost apologetically. “That was an accident. Go to sleep.”
“Sorry I interrupted your playdate.”
He shrugged. “I’m not. She hates to wait. She’ll be more than ready for me. Go to sleep.”
I had a feeling she wasn’t going to have to wait long.
But sleep? There was no way I’d be able to sleep. Where were the girls? Who was Spooner? And why wasn’t Brett beating down the door yet?
Unless he didn’t want to.
* * *
The next morning, I stopped at the store to replace my phone. None of the sale associates could help me. My crushed phone had been purchased on Brett’s plan. He would have to approve a replacement. So, I bought a cheap phone for the time being. Afterwards, I drove straight over to Mrs. Janowski’s house and found she wasn’t alone.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Janowski asked as soon as I walked inside.
“Yes, but where were you guys? Spooner attacked me.” I looked around at the women, all sleepy and in last night’s attire. Even Emmy was there. I had thought she’d be at home right now.
“The car conked out last night,” Mrs. Janowski said. “It filled with smoke.”
Edna nodded. “By the time we aired it out, you were gone. We tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”
“You didn’t see what happened?” I asked.
They all shook their heads.
“We’ve been out all night searching for you,” Sylvia said.
Which explained why they were ready to drop from exhaustion.
“What happened?” Emmy asked through a yawn. “Why didn’t you call us?”
“Rand ran over me and my phone,” I said. At their confused expressions, I briefly filled them in on what happened.
After hearing the story, Mrs. Janowski paced to the window and back. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I think we should stop.”
“Stop?” Sylvia questioned.
“Stop what?” Edna asked.
“From this moment on, Ida is on her own. We can’t endanger anyone else.”
“Ida will spend the rest of her life in prison,” Sylvia said.
“She chose this,” Mrs. Janowski said. “If she won’t help herself, how are we to help her? Mars knocked on death’s door one too many times. She might get an answer next time. I say we disband for the moment. We can regroup later. There are other people who need help and will appreciate our service. Do you all agree?”
“I don’t disagree,” Edna said. “I feel bad for Ida. But you’re right. She hasn’t wanted our help and won’t even see us or a lawyer. What else are we to do? I don’t want Mars or anyone else to get hurt.”
“Then it’s agreed,” Mrs. Janowski said, glancing at a pile of paint-dotted uniforms. “It’s probably better this way. The uniforms are toast.”
Emmy sighed a breath of relief, which blew a tuft of wayward hair. Out of all of us, she looked the worst. Her hair was tangled, still carrying spots of paint. She had smudges on her face and dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes. She needed
a good scrubbing and a bed.
“Emmy, are you going home? If not, you could come to my place and clean up.”
“I think I’ll brave it at home. T’s probably busy at work. I’m sure he doesn’t even notice I’m gone.”
I was positive that wasn’t true.
However, for two guys who could find anyone, Brett and T were coming up short. It made me wonder if they were even trying beyond pressing buttons on their phone. Did they even care?
Either way, I wanted to shower, change, and possibly take a nap before I had to work. And since the group was taking a break from saving the world, I had other things that needed my attention.
“I’m going home,” I said.
“Call if you need anything,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I think the girls and I are going to take a nap and then head to the salon. Let them deal with the paint in my hair.”
With a wave goodbye, I meandered over to my house and opened the door, triggering the new alarm system. It seemed silly and pointless now.
Entering the code, I deactivated the alarm and climbed the stairs to the bathroom. I peeled off last night’s clothes as I went, tossing them in a ball outside my bedroom door.
I keep forgetting how quiet the house could be with just me in it. No soft murmurs from Brett, no screeching demands from Emily. Now it was just me and my thoughts as I scrubbed every lingering fleck of paint off, reddening my skin to an angry glow.
A noise caught my attention. It must just be the house settling. When the noise happened again, I figured it must be Brett downstairs. Maybe he’d come home to shower before heading back out. Did the office have a shower? It seemed to have everything else.
I had mixed feelings about him being here. I wanted to hear an explanation, yet . . . I didn’t want to hear it for fear of what he’d tell me.
So, I scrubbed some more until I ran out of hot water and couldn’t procrastinate any more.
Jumping out of the ice-cold blast, I turned off the water, toweled off, and slipped on a robe.
Opening the door, I called, “Brett?”
There wasn’t an answer, but I heard a movement, a rustling of sorts.
“Emily?”
Still no answer.
The rustling stopped.
“Mrs. J?”
I stayed rooted to my spot at the top of the stairs, not daring to move forward. A creaking sound unglued my feet. Dashing into my bedroom, I snatched the bat from behind the door.
Who was downstairs? A burglar, a devious rodent, Spooner?
With a firm grasp on the bat, I took a step out of the bedroom, ready to jump back and slam the door closed if I needed to.
Creeping down the stairs, I strained to hear sounds, anything to help discern who or what I would find downstairs. I avoided the squeaky areas as I continued the slow journey down.
Mrs. Janowski had the right idea about wanting ninja skills, because this turtle pace was torture.
I paused to wipe my sweaty hands off on my robe and then continued. Only a few more steps to go.
The living room slowly came into view. First the floor, then the furniture.
I stopped.
It had been ransacked. The couch and chair were tipped over, cushions torn apart. Racing down the last few steps, I took in the destruction with a twisted stomach.
Who would do this?
I bent to pick up the television to find the screen had splintered into a spider web.
It obviously wasn’t a robbery. Nothing was taken, only destroyed.
The front door stood open, rusty leaves blowing in, combining with the mess.
Barefoot, I ran over to Mrs. Janowski’s house and pounded on the door. She answered quickly. The girls were all still there, including Emmy who had curled up in the wingback chair and passed out.
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
“Someone broke into my house while I was in the shower.”
“Who?” Sylvia asked.
“Are you okay?” Edna asked.
“I’m fine, but I don’t know who. Nothing was taken, but they destroyed my house.”
“Did you call the police?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
“No. I came right over.”
“I’ll call them now,” Sylvia said.
“Wasn’t your alarm activated?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
“I turned it off when I got home.”
“Oh, dear,” Edna said. “Thank goodness you weren’t hurt.”
“What do you think he was looking for?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
“I have a bad feeling Spooner was looking for the necklace.”
“But Hank has it,” Edna said.
“I told Spooner it was at my house. I didn’t want him to know Hank had it. I thought he would pester Hank.”
“That no-good scoundrel ransacked your house,” Mrs. Janowski said.
“He’s the only person I know who wanted something from me. He was willing to fight for it.”
We waited for Sylvia to finish with her call. When she hung up, she nodded. “The police are on their way.”
“I should go and get dressed.” I hesitated. I didn’t think Spooner was at my house, but I never checked the closets or the basement. And even if he had left, there was no telling if he’d come back.
Mrs. Janowski sensed my hesitation and grabbed ol’ Bessie on her way out the door. “I got you covered.”
“Thank you.” I followed her out.
“No thanks needed. I just hope that punk is still there, because I’m going to pulverize him.”
I hoped her wish came true.
Chapter 17
With a fortifying deep breath, I called Brett at the office using Mrs. Janowski’s phone. If only I had written his cell phone number down instead of only having it stored into my now-destroyed phone, I would have opted to call that number. Instead, I had to navigate through Emily when she answered the phone.
“Brett’s not here,” she said as soon as she recognized my voice. “Where’s Emmy? She’s such a slacker. I’m doing all of her work.”
“She quit. I thought that was obvious.”
“Nothing is obvious right now,” she said, sounding pitiful and on the verge of tears.
While I didn’t feel sorry for her, I was curious enough to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Everything!” I detected a small sniffle. “Brett and T are snippy. We just added more clients, but I can’t find workers. The two I thought were candidates failed the drug test. So now Brett and T are working around the clock trying to keep the new clients happy. Every time I call them they bite my head off. I’m trying to help, but I’m stuck at the desk.”
“Did you try a temp agency?”
“Of course!” she snapped. “Each one I talked to didn’t have anyone with the needed qualifications. They said they could start advertising for prospects right away. But what’s the point? I’ve already advertised.”
“How many people do you need?”
“At least six, but I’d like ten because we have new work coming in another week. Brett and T are going to kill me.”
“What qualifications do they need?”
“We’re looking for people who already hold a security certification, concealed carry, self-defense, CPR and first aid. Those are the basics. I can help them obtain a license. Brett and T can train them.”
That was a lot to ask of potential entry-level applicants. No wonder they couldn’t find anyone. But, I did know of a way to get them through this crisis.
Did I want to?
I certainly didn’t want to help Emily. Brett wasn’t on my list of favorite people, either. Plus, I had a list of things to do for Rand.
“Is Cinnamon still there?” I asked.
“Yes, she’s obnoxious.”
Then I really didn’t want to help. So, why did I feel as though I had to? My own house was a disaster, I had my own work to do, and I had a bad feeling I hadn’t seen the last of Spooner.
But, since I didn’t feel up to dea
ling with the situation at home, and Mrs. Janowski put the Fearsome Foursome on break, then I might as well help T. He wasn’t the enemy, just an idiot.
“Emily, I’ll help just this once as long as you make sure Brett and Rand get my new phone number.”
“Really? You’ll help me?” Emily questioned, hesitation in her voice. “Why?”
“I’m doing this to help T.”
“Not Brett?”
“No,” I said, nearly hanging up until I remembered to warn her. “Make sure you don’t go to my house anytime soon. There was a break-in, and I have a feeling the person will be back.”
“Why would anyone want to break into your house? You don’t have anything worth stealing. In fact, they’d pay you just so they don’t have to take anything. It’s really horrible.”
Calming breath.
“Remember who is trying to help you,” I warned.
“You’re helping T. You said so yourself.”
“Fine.” I wasn’t going to argue the point. “Just make sure to give Brett and Rand my new number. It’s important.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
When I hung up, I was confident she wouldn’t contact either of them.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Janowski to jump into the new project. She called everyone in her phone directory to meet at the senior center in two hours, giving them an open invitation to bring anyone else who’d be interested in security work.
Flipping through her personal phone book, I programmed in our shared acquaintances. Thankfully, Kym, Hank, Bob, Mac, and Jack were on that list. That only left Rand to get in touch with. If Emily didn’t forward my number to him, I’d have to track him down.
After saving all the information, I called Jack to see if he’d want to join everyone at the senior center. He’d be a perfect temporary security guard until the Hog reopened. I wasn’t sure what the culinary school was paying him, but it couldn’t be much. Since Jack didn’t answer, I left a message telling him to meet at the senior center in two hours, or to call me back.
My next call was to Hank. He picked up after the fourth ring, his voice heavy with drink. “Wha’?”
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