by Linda Ladd
Novak nodded. She didn’t say anything else but looked around some more, obviously trying to figure things out. Then she must’ve decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because she moved to the table, bracing her good arm on the wall for support. She held her injured shoulder in close to her. She was weak and probably shouldn’t be on her feet yet at all. “How far are we from New Orleans?”
“Not far, but my place is difficult to find. Only a few people know where I live, and they know not to tell anything to nosy strangers. We aren’t staying here long enough, anyway. Once we get out on the Gulf, we’re home free. Time out on the water will give you time to recover and get your strength back.”
“What?”
Nope, she wasn’t tracking well. “I own a sailboat called the Sweet Sarah. We’re taking her out tomorrow. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe out there.”
“Who’s Sarah?”
Her question surprised Novak. He didn’t like anybody asking questions about his family. “She was my wife.”
She considered him, and her expression didn’t look particularly amenable to a sea voyage with a stranger. She scraped back a chair and sat down but kept a good distance between them. Her breathing was uneven. Her face looked pasty again. “I feel sick to my stomach. I need to eat something. Where’s your bathroom?”
“The bathroom’s right behind you. I don’t think you’ll be able to tolerate much. How about sipping a soda? Or dry toast, maybe?”
She nodded and hobbled to the bathroom, went inside, and shut the door. The lock clicked. She didn’t trust him, all right, but she would eventually. He fetched a glass and poured her a Pepsi over ice. He put it down on the table where she’d been sitting and popped a slice of bread into the toaster. Then he splashed water on his face at the sink, trying to stay awake. Revived a bit but not much, he sorted through the medicine bottles in his cabinet, chose one, and spilled two tablets into his palm. He placed them beside the Pepsi, leaned against the kitchen counter, and waited. She wasn’t going anywhere. There was no window in that bathroom.
A few minutes later, she came out. She had washed her face, and her color looked better, as if she’d pinched her cheeks. It looked like she’d used his brush on her tangled hair, too. She made her way back to the table.
“I could scramble some eggs, too, if that sounds good to you. It’d only take a few minutes.”
She held up a palm toward him and stopped that idea in its tracks. “Oh, God, no. Just the toast. I feel so queasy. What did they give me to put me out like that?”
“Not sure. Most likely it was oxycodone for the pain and something else to help you sleep. How bad does your arm hurt right now? One to ten?”
“Fifteen.”
“The drugs are wearing off. I put out two hydrocodone tablets. Take them. You’re going to need to function in the coming hours. I’ve got more if you need them.”
That brought a pair of big blue questioning eyes to his face. “Are you a dealer?”
“I’m a private detective. I’ve been known to have need of painkillers from time to time, so I keep a good supply around. Didn’t Caloroso fill you in about me when he sent you here?”
“He didn’t say much. So why don’t you tell me?”
“Not much to tell.”
She picked up the pills and downed them with a swig of Pepsi. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking or what she already knew about him, but it didn’t involve a whole lot of trust on her part. She was guarded and distrustful. The toast popped up, and he put it on a saucer and took it to her. He sat down where he’d been before. Neither of them said anything else, just sat there together in extreme and uncomfortable silence. She was smart not to trust him. If he were her, he wouldn’t trust him, either. She didn’t know much about him, it appeared, except what Frank had told her, if he’d told her anything. She had awoken out in the middle of nowhere with a big stranger she didn’t know, weak and injured and alone. Apprehensive, oh yeah. She kept glancing around the room, studying escape routes, just like he would’ve done.
He watched her nibble the toast and sip at the soda. He wanted to go to bed, but that wasn’t in the cards yet. They needed to set sail, but Frank hadn’t shown up. She was still nervous as hell. Her hands had a slight tremor, either from drugs or nerves or fear, probably all three. She didn’t have much reason to feel secure about anything. She had come to him, true, already injured and neck-deep in some ugly stuff. On the other hand, the two of them dancing around the subject wasn’t going to help her much. She had to trust him, or she had to go it alone. She was in no shape to do the latter. She knew it; he knew it. Novak took the bull by the horns.
“Frank showed up at the hospital. He’s on his way down here. Probably will get here soon.”
That did the trick. Her relief was apparent. “He came in from Galveston?”
Novak nodded. “He said he got worried about you because you weren’t answering your phone and figured you ran into trouble. He found us in the hospital.”
“Good. I was afraid they had arrested him.”
Novak waited for her to elaborate on the who, the why, and the when. She said nothing else, so he forced the issue.
“Way I see this? You’ve got two options right now, Lori. Number one: trust me and let me get you and Frank on my boat and the hell out of Louisiana in one piece. Two: go back to New Orleans on your own and hope to God they don’t get you again. Because if they do, and in your present condition, you won’t get a shot off and you’ll end up dead.”
Her chin rose just a trifle. “I know my choices, dude. You don’t have to tell me what they are.”
Dude? Painkillers must be taking effect. Her face had become slightly flushed and made her look better. Starka and his buddies hadn’t beaten the spunk out of her. She still had an edge to her, all right. That was a good thing. He hadn’t seen much of that when she’d held him at gunpoint with wobbly hands and a shaky voice. “Okay, then go ahead, lady, make your choice. Neither option is all that good for your health. If you want my help, fine. I’m good at what I do. I can protect you, and I’m available at the moment. If you don’t believe me or think that’s not such a good idea, that’s fine, too. Wait for Frank to show up and you two can mosey off on your merry way. No skin off my nose. But you need to make that decision, right now.”
Novak paused, but she just stared at him.
“Look, I didn’t ask to get involved in this crap. You came to me, remember? They almost killed me in my own living room, and I don’t know why, or who they are, or what they want, except for what Frank told me at the hospital, which didn’t amount to squat. That’s asking a lot of me if I’m going to have to put my life on the line. Then they tried to murder you again in your hospital bed, and I had to take another guy down. If I’d left you there alone in that room? He would’ve smothered you with your pillow, and guess what? You’d be dead right now. Guess I’m getting a pretty strong message so far. Being around you is hazardous to my health.”
“They came for me at the hospital?”
He’d already told her that. Her mind wasn’t exactly processing efficiently. So Novak explained again about the currently comatose guy wielding the pillow. Lori’s flush faded to that death-mask white once more. She said nothing, attempting to fight through her drug daze and think things through.
Novak felt himself getting annoyed. Still, he gave it one more shot, but what little patience he still had was wearing a trifle thin. “Look, I’m tired of this intrigue, and I need some sleep before Frank shows up. So do you. I’m gonna bed down on that recliner beside your bed for a few hours with a gun in my lap, just in case they find us here. I don’t think they can, not in a million years, but whoever these guys are, they seem to have a lot of men and a lot of resources, so I’m not selling them short.”
She said nothing. Her reticence was grating on his nerves.
“After I get some sleep, I
’m going to ready the boat to sail. After Frank gets here, I can drop you both off at any port along the Gulf coast where you think you’ll be safe. Whoever’s behind these guys, he’s sending out his men in teams, one or two at a time, so far. They’re halfway organized but not particularly well trained. Not pros, by any stretch of the imagination. Probably hoods, hired right off the mean streets. But they’re gonna keep coming. That’s not particularly good odds right now, especially with you hurt and refusing to tell me who the hell they are and what they want. I don’t have a lot of patience with people who play games with me.”
“I thought you said Frank was at the hospital. Why didn’t he tell you?”
“He didn’t have time. We just put down a guy, and we wanted you out of there. And yeah, you’re welcome.”
“Why are you so worried if this place is so secure?”
Novak shrugged. “Bad things happen all the time, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Lori watched his face closely and then exhaled a breath that told him how tired she really was. She took another tiny bite of toast and chewed it slowly and swallowed it about the time Novak’s impatience hit a brick wall. Before he could explode, she looked him directly in the eyes. “I want your help. I need it, I do. I can pay you anything you want. I’ve got money. So does Frank. We’re both ready to fight back, but you’re right, we can’t do it alone. We thought we could at first, but they’re too powerful.”
Holding his gaze, she didn’t look like she could carry on in any fight. She looked small and feeble and alone and beaten up, with a bruised face, a shot-to-hell shoulder in a sling, and wearing that thin and flimsy hospital gown. Novak felt the first twinge of pity creeping in, and that tempered his annoyance. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you except information, like how Frank’s involved. He’s a good friend. I don’t want to see him dead. Other than that, it’s the underlying principle of the thing. A gang of cowards and bullies chained you up, beat you black and blue, and burst into my house with guns blazing. That kind of thing irks me. I don’t like men who beat up women. Never have. So once I get you out of here and to a secure place, I can handle payback to these guys alone, especially if they’ve got Lucy. But not here, not on Bonne Terre.”
He stopped a moment and contemplated her. “They’re out there looking for us right now, Lori, believe me. You said there were four men in that warehouse. Three are out of the picture and shit out of luck. But if they somehow find out my name, they could possibly find out that I own this plantation, so we need to get the hell out of here as soon as Frank shows his face. But it’s strictly up to you. I say we take our chances out in the Gulf where they’ll never find us. Say the word, and as soon as Frank gets here, we’ll cast off.”
One beat. Two beats. She stared down at her plate a moment and said nothing. Only sound was the muted ticking of an eighteenth-century French grandfather clock sitting out in the foyer, where it had been placed almost two centuries ago. Then she looked up. Their eyes met and locked. Hers had a look of resolve.
“Okay. I’ve got to trust you. I’ve got no choice. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“You can trust me. First off, I want to know every single thing about whatever this is. I want to know the players and what they’re after and how and why you fit in.”
“It’s ugly.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
The barest hint of a smile at the corner of her swollen lip, maybe, but it was fleeting. She licked at the stitches and lapsed back into reluctant silence.
“Are you willing to listen to me, Lori, and do what I tell you?”
Novak got the feeling that Lori Garner was not a woman who let other people tell her what to do or make her decisions. She had to be tough to get through that kind of a beating. She showed that, too, when she surprised him in his own home at gunpoint. Her catching him napping still bothered him. He’d been in similar situations, where he’d been confined by enemies, with no control over what was being done to him. It was a terrible place to be, mentally, physically, and emotionally. It was humiliating and enraging and exhausting. Lori Garner had come through it. So far, anyway.
“I’ll listen to you,” she told him a moment later. “But this is my life and my problem. If I think you’re screwing things up for me or Lucy or Frank, I’m gonna say so, and do it my own way. You got that, Novak? No negotiation. Don’t think you can bully me. I’ve taken more of that than I can stomach.”
Quite a polite ultimatum, but an ultimatum, nevertheless. Novak pegged her for having pride, and he was right. He admired her for it. “Fair enough. You come off as capable and well trained. First thing I want to know is exactly how this thing started, and I mean every single detail. Don’t leave anything out. Lay it out straight in a simple timeline. We don’t have much time.”
“It’s not simple.”
“Make it simple.”
“Ask me questions, and I will give you truthful answers.”
Novak considered her. Lori Garner was nobody’s fool, and she definitely still didn’t trust him, not an inch, regardless of what she’d said. Her suggestion meant she was savvy and careful and clever. If he were her, he wouldn’t tell everything pertinent to his own safety to someone he’d just met, either, and he wouldn’t do that until he was certain they had his back. If Novak asked questions now, there were plenty of things he wouldn’t know to ask and therefore she would have aces in the hole if things got sticky. Good thinking on her part.
“What’s your real name?”
She hesitated a beat too long. “Lori Garner, just like I told you. I’m not dragging you, man.”
“What?”
“Dragging you, dude. You know, like criticizing. It’s slang. How old are you, anyway?”
Novak ignored that. He was a lot older than she was, that was for damn sure. “I think we’re both liars when the need arises, and you know it. You lie to me about this, you’re on your own.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Any way you can prove that? I’m working through a few trust issues myself at the moment.”
“Why?” She sounded startled. He wondered if she really was.
“Would you trust a stranger that broke into your apartment and held you at gunpoint? Then caused a shootout that ended up with two men lying dead your floor?”
“No.” Another silence. She was holding back, not wanting to tell him everything. “They took my ID and clothes and purse and backpack and everything else I brought with me. I barely got away from them. They were going to kill me; they were just having fun with me first. It was only a matter of time, so I did what I had to do.”
He watched her face carefully. She looked maybe in her mid-twenties, maybe thirty, but that was pushing it. “So how did you get away from them? That couldn’t have been easy.”
“I can’t see why you don’t trust me.”
Of course, she could see that. He rarely trusted anyone, anyway, unless they were an old friend like Frank Caloroso. They both knew that, and they both knew why. This conversation was becoming tedious fast. He wished Frank would get there and handle this woman.
“You were obviously chained up and beaten. How did you get away? Is that so hard to explain?”
Her answer came, but it was begrudging. “One of them took pity on me. He shouldn’t have.”
“You’re saying you overpowered the guy? In your condition?”
“Hashtag, yeah, man.”
“What?”
She scowled. “You’re obviously not into SM, are you?”
“Sadomasochism? Hell no. What’s that got to do with it?”
“No, social media.” She frowned at him. “You know, Facebook, IG, Twitter. Social media.”
“I don’t have time to play on the internet. I work for a living.”
“No kidding. Well, I do, and I’m good at it. That was
part of my job in the army. Hacking and IT and other stuff.”
She appeared to be perking up some now; maybe the pills and soda and toast had kicked in. Her youthful consciousness was showing, too.
“Okay, I’ll use plain English. That guy? He unlocked one handcuff so he could take me to the bathroom. So I punched him in the throat with my fist. He went down choking, but it was long enough for me to grab his gun, hit him with it, grab his raincoat, and get the hell out of that basement.”
“You killed him?”
“No, but he didn’t wake up for a long time. I’m not cool with killing people or I would have. The other guys were down the hall somewhere. They would’ve heard the shot, anyway.”
“Better adopt that killing habit. They sure as hell have. You’re in a life-and-death situation here. What happened next?”
“I ran for my life.”
“Nobody saw you? Where were the other guards?”
“I told you, down the hall in another room. I heard them talking, so I ran the other way and found a door that exited outside into a dark alley. I heard Mardi Gras crowds, so I ran toward them and came out on Bourbon Street. I mingled in with the crowd while I looked for your place. Frank told me where it was. Then I saw you up on that balcony and you met the description, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, so I waited and watched you. I was a little out of it, you know, after all I’d been through, and not quite thinking straight. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Okay. Time to get down to brass tacks. Why all this?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
She was hedging now, but Novak was tired of dancing around the facts. He wasn’t sure about this woman. He hadn’t quite pegged her as the good guy just yet. Frank had been known to mess it up with bad guys before, women and men alike. Maybe Frank didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. Maybe she was playing him; maybe those men had a good reason for chaining her up. Maybe she was playing Novak, using her injuries and youth and good looks as a ruse. “What did they want from you? Be specific.”