“Hey.” Jesse made a show of shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and looking around casually. “Don’t look now,” he said, raising his head and squinting up at the sky. “But see that silver Subaru parked at the bottom of the stairs? The guy in the driver’s seat? He was sittin’ there when I came in. That was three hours ago. He’s still sittin’ there. He doesn’t live in Marshall’s Creek, that’s for sure. I’ve never seen him before. And look what he’s wearin’, for chrissakes. It’s ninety-six degrees out here and he’s wearin’ a turtle-neck and a bulky jacket. I’d be willin’ to wager he’s carryin’.”
Standing at the top of the steps, they positioned themselves so Jay could study the man from behind his dark glasses. He was bald and pudgy, with the thick neck, shoulders, and upper arms of an out-of-shape ex-prizefighter. His nose had been broken more than once. Dark glasses hid his eyes. His head was turned to the left, his gaze directed to a point beyond where they were standing. He was watching the front door.
A man exited the courthouse, walked to the edge of the front portico and paused at the top of the steps around twenty feet from the foursome.
“Well, well, well,” Jesse said. “Don’t look now, but guess who just came out the door.”
“Lemme guess.” Jay hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and looked down at his cowboy boots. “The Anti-Christ.”
“In the flesh. Lookin’ directly at the man in the car. Oh, my, isn’t that interestin’?” Jesse watched Pierce give a tiny little jerk of his head in their direction, a movement so slight that if Jesse hadn’t been looking right at him, he would have missed it completely.
“I think he just pointed you out,” Jesse murmured. “If I were you, I’d take the long way home. And watch your six.”
“You got it.”
With Charlie between them, they said good-bye to Jesse and descended the steps, talking about where they were going to eat lunch, as if that were the only thing on their minds. They walked right past the silver Subaru, not even looking at the man inside. Across the street, while Nik climbed into the back, Jay handed Charlie into the passenger seat of the Humvee and leaned across her to buckle her seat belt. Then, fishing the keys out of his pocket, he scurried around to the driver’s side, folded himself into the seat and took out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” Charlie asked, curious.
“Jason Ingram. He’s a buddy of ours, a computer genius with the ability to access files most governments would kill to get a hold of.”
A deep, male voice came over the speaker. “Jay, my man, what’s up?”
“Yo, Jason. How bored are you?”
“Don’t tell me you want me to run a plate for you. Oh, my God. That’s even more boring than what I’m already doing?”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“Just sitting here trying to decide whether to re-grout the bathtub or organize my sock drawer. Okay, let me have it.”
Jay read off the license plate number from the piece of paper Nik handed him. “We want a full rundown on this guy, including his grandmother’s dress size.” He turned his head to look at Nik, who was sitting in the back seat behind Charlie.
“Okay, Papa Bear, what’s it to be? Do we ditch him? Let him follow us?”
“Follow us!” Charlie cried, clearly shocked.
“It’s okay, baby girl. We know what we’re doing.”
“Baby girl?” Jason asked, clearly amused. “Well, well, well. Guess I know who isn’t going to be re-grouting their tub any time soon.”
Jay laughed. “Charlie, meet Jason Ingram. Jason, Miss Charlotte Fielding.”
“Hi, Charlie, nice to meet you.”
“Same here, Jason.” Somehow she managed to keep her inner tension out of her voice. “I understand you’re a genius.”
“Only on Mondays,” he countered with a laugh.
“Thanks, buddy,” Jay said. “We owe you.”
“Damn straight. And one of these days I’m gonna collect, too. Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
“Same here, Jason. Thanks for your help.”
“For you, kiddo, any time, no charge.”
“Hey!” Jay protested
“Suck it up, Jay,” Jason laughed. “She’s prettier than you.”
“How do you know? She could be a dried-up, toothless old hag with a wart on her nose.”
“Who’re you calling old?” Charlie asked in feigned indignation, making everyone laugh.
“Okay,” Nik said finally. “Let’s let him follow us. But make him earn his money. We’ll go real slow and have a nice, leisurely lunch at Katie’s when we get back to Passion Lake. Come to think of it,” he teased, ““maybe I should drive. You are genetically incapable of going below 80 miles per hour.”
Jay just made a face at him while he started the car, backed out, and drove slowly off down Court Street in the direction of Passion Lake. Sure enough, the silver Subaru backed out right after them and stayed behind them the entire way, always maintaining the same distance. Even when Jay was only going fifteen miles per hour and earning the wrath of every other driver on the road for having to swerve around them. Most of them flipped him the bird as they flew past.
An hour later, the three of them were sitting in a booth at Katie’s Barbecue restaurant watching their waitress set heaping plates of ribs, fries, beans, slaw, and homemade cornbread on the table in front of them. Jay and Charlie were side-by-side on one bench facing Nik. Charlie’s hand rested in Jay’s lap, his rested on top of hers. As soon as their meal arrived, he lifted her hand and placed it on the top of her thigh.
“As much as I love holding your hand, sweet thing, you need both of them to assume proper rib-eating posture.” Putting both elbows on the table, he bent forward, held the ends of the bone with the thumbs and fingertips of both hands and lowered his mouth to take an enormous bite. “They’re so much tastier when eaten this way,” he added around a mouthful of succulent pork.
“Both Nik and I are Board-Certified Instructors in Proper Rib-Eating Posture 101,” Jay informed her. “So if you’re in need of a refresher course, we’re your men.”
“Thank you,” Charlie giggled. “I’ll make a note of that.”
“Well, you’d better sign up early. Our classes fill up fast. Of course, for you, we’d probably make a special exception.”
“”Oh? And why is that?” Charlie asked.
“’Cause we’ve seen you nekkid.”
If Charlie had been drinking, she would have done a spit take. As it was, she just let out an explosive cackle that had people around them turning their heads to see what all the hilarity was about.
Ultimately, it was difficult for her to assume Proper Rib-Eating Posture because Jay started giving her lessons in a high, nasal voice with a snooty British accent that instantly had her laughing. “Lesson number one, Proper Wrist Angle.” He reached over to make critical adjustments to Charlie’s Wrist Angle. “Hands should not be bent upward or downward from the wrist, but should extend straight out, in order to assure optimum rib placement. No, no, that’s too high. No, no, no, no, no, way too low. Remember, you want to avoid straining the delicate tendons if you wish to avoid carpal tunnel problems in your twilight years.” He looked over at her and informed her with a straight face, still in that ridiculous voice, “Major studies commissioned by the RIA—”
“RIA?”
“Rib Institute of America. Their studies have shown that improper Wrist Angle while eating ribs is a major contributing factor to this easily-preventable condition.”
“I see.”
“Now, let’s move on to Lesson Two, shall we? Correct Elbow Placement. With your arms up against your body, pivot them upward at your shoulders, moving your elbows forward and placing them on the edge of the table. No, dear, too far. See, with your elbows that far forward you are in imminent danger of falling face-first into your plate, something that would instantly mark you as a rank amateur to the rest of the rib-eating world. Closer
to the edge of the table. No, not off the table. Remember that face-falling thing? There. That’s better.”
“Is that all?” Charlie managed to choke out.
“Oh, no, there’s more.”
“There’s more,” she informed Nik, who was also laughing at Jay’s silliness.
“Lesson Three,” he went on in that high, quavering voice, “is Acceptable Bone-Holding Tension in the Fingertips and, I cannot stress this enough, It. Is. Critical. The rib must be held at both ends between the thumbs and index fingers of both hands. The grip must be firm, but delicate. Not too loose, now. You don’t want to risk pushing the rib right out of your fingers when you go in to take a bite. A little tighter, tighter, just a little—oops, now it’s too tight, we don’t want it to go flying through the air and land on someone’s head, now do we?” He gave a tittering little giggle that even had Nik guffawing.
“Now, we move on to Lesson Four, The Precise Angle of the Body Lean Across the Table.”
“Stop!” Charlie was laughing so hard she could barely get the word out, both hands over her abdomen. “For God’s sake, stop. My belly hurts!” She took several deep breaths, until she was finally able to stop laughing. “I think I’m going to forego the rest of the lessons, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well, Ms. Fielding,” Jay’s haughty expression matched his lofty tone, “Just remember,” he added direly, “you do so at your own peril. The RIA disavows any responsibility for consequences arising from your ill-advised actions.”
Charlie laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I promise not to sue.”
They took their time polishing off a small mountain of the most delicious baby back ribs Charlie had ever put in her mouth.
They were waiting for the waitress to bring back Nik’s credit card when his phone rang. He listened for a minute, then looked at the screen, thumbing through several images, then said, “Thanks, Jason.” He handed the phone to Jay, who scrolled through the screen thoughtfully.
“Okay, who have we got here? Guy’s name is Carl Dietrich. He’s a licensed P.I., barely making a living at it if his declared income of twenty-nine k is to be believed. Twice divorced—now, there’s a shocker—no kids, no pets, no criminal record, only one address, in downtown Richmond. So, he either works out of his home or he sleeps in his office. Oh ho,” he exclaimed with an upward hike of his eyebrows. “Looks like that particular building is owned by one Perry Bradford.”
“Come on.” Nik signed the check, Jay threw a twenty on the table then handed Charlie up out of the booth. “Let’s get back to the Lodge. I think we’ve wasted enough time on Mr. Carl Dietrich.”
They led him to the Lodge, but instead of going through the gate into their private pool and patio, they parked at the far end of the guest parking lot, climbed up the steps and went in the front door, as if they were guests at the hotel. They walked through the three-story lobby and the restaurant, then down the stairs into their residence. Nik went into the bedroom and emerged wearing a tweed jacket. Charlie gave him a puzzled look. It was, after all, over ninety degrees outside. But he didn’t say anything, just gave her a wink and walked back upstairs.
“Where is he going?” she asked Jay.
“Out for a little meet and greet.”
“You mean he’s going to confront Carl Dietrich?” Charlie was aghast.
“Don’t worry, he’s more than up to the task.”
“But what if Dietrich has a gun?”
Jay chuckled. “Then he’d better be packing a bazooka ’cause Nik’s weapon of choice is a Desert Eagle 50.” He smirked and arched his eyebrows. “Now that’s a gun.”
* * * *
Walking swiftly, in a half-crouch, Nik circled around through the woods, keeping his eye on the silver Subaru to make sure it didn’t leave. Jay had deftly maneuvered Carl Dietrich into having to back the Subaru into a parking space at the far edge of the parking lot so he’d be able to keep his eye on both the Lodge entrance and their car. This part of the parking lot was graveled instead of paved and was bordered by a dense stand of trees which made it possible for Nik to circle around and approach from behind without being seen until the last minute. As he crept closer to the car he could see Dietrich’s elbow resting casually on the bottom of the window opening. Crouching low, he duck-walked up behind the car, waited a beat, then stood and rounded the back, striding straight up to the driver’s door and thumping his fist against the roof.
“Carl Dietrich,” he said in his deep basso profundo voice.
Dietrich jumped nearly a foot, banging his head on the head liner. Reacting purely on instinct, he reached beneath his jacket, yanked his Glock 9mil out of its shoulder holster and pointed it out the window right at Nik’s crotch.
Nik just rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he said, opening his jacket to reveal the Dezzy he’d shoved into his waistband.
Dietrich just swallowed and put his gun away. “Okay, who the fuck are you? And how do you know my name?” His tone was belligerent, but his face was a pale, pasty gray, he was sweating profusely, and he stank of fear.
“Oh, I know everything about you, Carl.” Nik leaned back against the passenger door of the car next to Dietrich’s Subaru, folding his arms across his chest, crossing his right ankle over his left. To the casual observer, he might have been having a pleasant conversation with a long-lost friend. “I know who you are, the fact that you sleep on a cot in your office. I even know how much money you make, although I suspect the twenty-nine k you claimed on last year’s income tax didn’t even come close to what you really made when you add in all that undeclared cash you got for all those under-the-table jobs you did for your boss, Perry Bradford. After all, you couldn’t let your ex-wives, Janet and Doris, know about that money, now, could you? They’d have your ass back in court so fast you wouldn’t even have time to say ‘back alimony’, much less hand it over. You have no kids, no pets, your mother died when you were fifteen—”
“Who the fuck are you? How the fuck do you know all this shit?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, Carl. You’ve got much bigger things to worry about. Like what Perry Bradford’s going to do when he finds out you let yourself get made?”
Dietrich squirmed in his seat. “How the fuck’s he ever going to know that?”
“Because you’re going to tell him.”
“Are you fucking crazy? He’ll kill me!”
Nik inclined his head and looked at the private investigator, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Not if I do it first.”
Carl flinched. Nik smiled. Bingo. Direct hit. He paused to let it sink in. “You know, Jay, my partner, thought we should just kill you and dump your body where no one would ever find it. We could’ve done it, too. This area of the state borders on a state forest that’s so wild even deer get lost in it. So don’t be fooled by his boyish looks. He’s a lot more lethal than you’d think just by looking at him. He can break a person’s hyoid with a flick of his hand that’s so fast it can’t be seen even by a slow motion camera. One second you’re there, next second, ffttt!”—he sliced the air with a sudden jerk of his hand, making Carl flinch again. Nik shook his head, feigning a wicked chuckle. Okay, he didn’t have to feign it. He was really enjoying this confrontation. “Saved my ass more than once with that handy little maneuver, let me tell you. He sent a lot of very bad men to Jahannam—that’s Islamic hell. And it’s every bit as unpleasant as Christian Hell. Not that I have any personal knowledge of either, mind you. .
“But I digress. You’re going to tell Perry Bradford we made you because you’re going to deliver my message to him.”
“What message?”
“That if he does anything to harm even one hair on Miss Fielding’s head, he’s going to bring a shit storm of hurt down upon himself that will make spending eternity in Hell look like a vacation. He’s fucking with the wrong people.”
With that, Nik straightened and walked away. He already had his phone out and was dialing Mike Con
over’s number when he heard the Subaru’s engine start and the tires crunching in the gravel as it took off out of the parking lot.
“Conover.”
“Yeah, Mike. Bradford hired a PI to follow us to get Charlotte’s location.”
“I hope you lost him.”
“Actually, no. I just finished putting the fear of God into him and gave him a message to take back to Bradford. Don’t fuck with us.”
“Well, as soon as we got back to Richmond, we arrested Bradford. He’s being arraigned tomorrow on charges of kidnapping with intent to cause bodily harm, unlawful imprisonment, torture, rape in the first degree, sodomy, assault in the first degree, and battery in the first degree. The DA’s going to ask for remand without bail and he thinks the judge will go for it. It’ll probably go to the Grand Jury next week.”
“Great. Is there any way you can put him in a cell with an undercover? My gut feeling is he’s going to be pissed. Probably enough to put out feelers for a contract hit on Charlotte.”
“Sure, I’ll see who’s available. We’ll let you know. Actually, I hope he does do that. A charge of solicitation for murder on top of all the other charges is guaranteed to keep him in jail for sure until trial.”
Nik could hear Mike’s grin in his voice. “Just help us keep Charlotte safe.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got your six.”
* * * *
“All right, my dearest ones, listen up,” Nik said, rubbing his hands together. “It is now three o’clock. The band will begin arriving in the next half hour or so to set up for Charlotte’s audition. So that gives us half an hour to switch out that medium plug in your ass, malchik, to a bigger one. Because I am going to fuck you tonight and I want you to be stretched and ready for my cock.”
Holy shit! Charlie’s belly clenched and rolled, spilling even more juice out into her already wet pussy. She loved the way these men talked, the raw, dirty words they used. Words that, when spoken by anyone else, sounded crude and disgusting. But when Nik and Jay used them, they sounded sexy and thrilling and sent her arousal soaring into the stratosphere.
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