by S. R. Jones
Shit.
“Honey? Are you okay? You’ve gone the color of your little dog.” Nancy eyes me with concern.
“What does he look like?” I ask.
She furrows her brow at the question, as she may well because it is a strange question to be asking.
“To be honest…kind of hot. Very hot.”
Nick could be described as handsome, very much so. Hot? I’m not sure. He’s handsome and sophisticated, and yes, if you like that sort of thing, Roger Moore era Bond, then he’s hot.
“Rugged. Bit rough around the edges, you know, but sexy as hell.”
Okay, so not Nick. He is decidedly not rough around the edges. The man gets a manicure every other week, and a facial weekly. He’s as smooth as they come.
I start to feel better. After all, if it isn’t Nick himself the odds of him sending another Brit after me aren’t that high. Why would he? He’d send someone from here, some Private investigator, or worse. This is possibly simply the mother of all coincidences. Calmer, I smile at Nancy.
“Thought it might be some guy I met traveling, but it doesn’t sound like him.”
She gives a non-committal hum in answer to my lie. Not wanting to stick around for longer and maybe having to lie some more, I make my excuses and continue on my way.
After pottering around the local store, and exploring the area some more, I head back.
As I pass Nancy’s home, with her no longer on the deck, I see a man on the deck of the other home she owns. He’s got his long, muscular legs encased in a pair of worn, faded jeans and they are rested on a wooden chair in front of him as he reclines in the comfy chair he’s sat in. He’s reading a book, and I can’t see his face, only a tousle of closely cut, dark hair, a tan forehead, and big, broad shoulders. His biceps are on show in the t-shirt he’s wearing, and his tan skin is alive on one arm with a swirl of colors that I make out is a fire-breathing dragon wrapped around his upper arm.
It’s a fierce tattoo and I suppress a shiver. When I see the book’s title, I bite back a smile. Tales of the City. I loved that book as a teenager, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve always wanted to visit the bay area. Maybe he read it then, too? Perhaps he’s gay? Which immediately somehow makes me feel even safer, until I realize that’s a stupidly stereotypical view, and there are probably plenty of gay killers.
God, I do my own head in half the time with my constant stream of idiotic thoughts. I need to get myself together and look for some work tomorrow. Not only for the money side of things but to stop me spending all my time worrying.
“Morning.”
The low spoken word jolts me as I’m already half past his deck. His voice is rough and ready with a Yorkshire accent. He sounds like Sean Bean. I turn to look at him to see he’s lowered the book and is watching me.
“Hi. You alright?” I come out with the stupid welcome I’d always give and receive in my little Yorkshire village. Y’allright – such a common thing to hear back there. Or from those who have a broad accent, al’reeet. Strange and jarring here though.
He raises one eyebrow at me and cocks his head to one side. “You’re a fellow Yorkshire lass?”
I nod because there’s no point in lying. If he is here for Nick, which I’m seriously doubting, he knows all about me anyway. If not, I need to be casually friendly because my goal here in my new home is to blend in and stop acting weird.
“Yep.”
“Wow, what are the odds. Here I am, halfway around the world on my travels and I bump into a fellow Yorkshireman. Or I should say, woman.”
I smile at that. “Yeah, we get around. So, you’re traveling?” I linger for a moment, intrigued by him for some reason.
He’s big. Really big, when I get a good look at him. The sort of body you see on billboards for action movies but rarely in real life. His legs look as thick and built as his top half. Nick has big biceps and arms because he spends hours in our gym pumping weights, but he’s got spindly legs. This guy looks strong all over. Maybe he’s a sportsman? A rugby player or something?
“Yeah. Bumming around, you know. Exploring. Always wanted to come here, rent a floating home. Do an Otis.”
I point to his book. “I fell in love with that series. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Thanks. Thought I should read some local literature while I’m here. Went to the City Lights bookstore yesterday and picked this up and some Kerouac.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there,” I sigh, forgetting myself for a while and becoming drawn into the conversation.
“You’ve got to visit while you’re here. It’s a great place.”
“I will. I’m going to go into the city tomorrow.”
“Great. Well enjoy…”
“Abi,” I supply.
“Enjoy, Abi. Nice meeting you. I’m Liam. Maybe see you around.”
At that he goes back to his book, so I head on home. I’m not worried any longer.
For some reason my internal voice, the one I need to listen to more, is telling me this guy isn’t anything to do with Nick.
Chapter Five
Liam
I watch her over the top of my page as she walks back to her home. She’s renting some boat house, which I don’t like because it isn’t exactly secure. Still, it’s good she’s nearby. Now I know Abi will be exploring the city tomorrow, I’ll take advantage of her being gone to go and try to find that USB stick and to put some bugs on the boat, so I can hear what’s going on. That way if anyone breaks in, I’ll hear.
I’m kind of tempted to hook up some cameras inside, too, but know the reasons for this aren’t entirely professional and certainly not chivalrous, so I won’t.
My phone buzzes and I see it’s Reece. I head inside, taking care to pull the door closed behind me, and answer.
“Yep.”
“Fucking hell, mate. Is she okay?”
“Yeah why?” I’m immediately alert.
“Nick’s gone deranged. Guy’s a fucking psycho. He got back later than planned due to some flight snafu.”
Yeah, I know all about that because I had a hand in it, and I had to call in some very big favors to do it.
“Okay.”
“Anyway, he gets back, and he goes fucking batshit. He’s spent a day and night raging, mate. I mean proper raging. The whole place is a shit-tip. He’s ripped up her clothes, smashed pictures of her. Trashed all her make-up and perfume. But he calmed down this morning, and two things you need to know. One is he knows about the memory stick.”
Shit, my heart sinks.
“He is such an anal bastard, he counts them. Can you believe it?”
Frankly, I can believe anything about the sick fucker.
“Two, due to the memory stick, he’s called some Russian friends of his. He had hired some PI guy to try and track Abi, and the last I saw, this guy figured she’d gone back to the U.K., and that’s the trail he was going to follow. But Nick’s not buying that. He’s somehow got flight manifests for the days after she left, and no one has travelled with a small dog in that time. He’s been calling all the dog shelters, and says she won’t have abandoned the dog, and it’s not at any of them so far as he can tell. Pretty distinctive looking dog, so not difficult to describe.
“He figures she’s still here in the States. As of this morning, when he found the USB stick gone, he sacked the PI and he’s called his Russian masters. This is good for us. For the investigation, because it’s direct proof he’s working for the fuckers. Not so good for Abi. He told them to bring Abi alive, but you and I know he doesn’t call the shots here.”
I sigh. This is bad. These cold bastards could kill Nick simply to cover their tracks and then go after Abi. The thick fucker has possibly signed his own death warrant, which I don’t give two shits about, but he might also have signed Abi’s.
“He’s that obsessed with her. He’s risked telling the people he works for that he messed up, just so he can get them to help find her.”
Crap. I rub a hand through my s
hort, but longer than usual, hair. A result of a friend of mine’s missus who told me it looks better a bit longer. Cara. I smile when I think of her. I like her and I’m glad Luka’s found her. She doesn’t take any crap, and says what she thinks. Her views are the polar opposite of mine, but I like getting into a heated debate with her because I admire how she sticks up for what she believes in, and how strongly she believes it.
My mind quickly returns to Abi. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow now for putting the bugs on her boat, or trying to find that USB stick, but that means I’ll need some help. I’m also going to need motion sensor alarms around the boat she’s staying on. It’s either that or take her in and into protective custody, and I can’t guarantee that at this stage she won’t freak or try to get away. I don’t really want to add kidnapping to my stalking resume. So it looks like keeping an eye on her at the moment is the best course of action. Luckily, we are right at the end of a quiet dock, which means not many people will be walking about, otherwise I’d be woken up every five minutes by the motion sensors going off.
I end the call with Reece promising to get back to him. Then I scroll through the contacts in my phone until I see Jill’s listing. She’s not really a friend, but more than a casual acquaintance. She’s also someone who owes me big time. She’s in the FBI now and lives in San Francisco but she used to be employed doing more covert stuff, and our paths crossed more than once. On one of those occasions, I saved her life, and let some serious shit go. So, yeah, she owes me, and I’ve never called it in.
Now I do.
“Liam.” She practically purrs down the line, and I smile. Jill is a bona fide sex kitten. Marilyn Monroe for the modern era, but dressed in a pantsuit and carrying a gun.
“I’m calling in my debt,” I put it out there, no preamble.
She gives a soft, throaty laugh. “Always with the chit-chat and the pleasantries, Liam. Why don’t you get straight to the point?”
I smirk, and give a small laugh myself. “Yeah. Well, I know you appreciate things up front as much as I do. I need your help. Today. Got a bit of a situation. It’s not official, and I need someone to help make at least part of it, sort of official.”
I’m asking a lot. I need her to come here, use her badge to persuade Nancy to help me get Abi off the boat and let me put motion sensor cameras up. If Nancy followed up on what Jill and I tell her, Jill might have to fend off some probing questions.
“Make it worth my while? Dinner and a fuck afterwards?”
Normally, I’d take her up on her offer. She’s one of the very few women I screw outside the club, but I’m not interested. And I need her gone when this is done so I can get down to creepily listening in to Abi’s life.
“Not this time, honey. Maybe next. But I need you to get down to Sausalito ASAP, like this afternoon if you can.”
“Luckily for you, I’m at my desk writing up a ton of reports, which means me taking a break to help you out this way will put me majorly behind. It also means I won’t get to go on my date on Friday possibly, and with you turning down the sex offer, I could be offended, but once more, luckily for you, I’m not that kind of woman. Give me the address and I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
I laugh as I hang up the call. Why the hell am I sniffing around Abigail Maddison? Jill is much more my type. Cold, cut off, hard as nails when she wants to be. Dynamite in the sack, too. Abi’s a mess. Confused, scared, on the run. She still wants the world to be good and pure, it’s in all her actions so far. In her eyes. I know the world is anything but, and I will probably ruin the last vestiges of innocence she’s managed to cling to. Not because I’d hurt her the way Nick did, but because I’m hollow inside and I can’t sugarcoat things and make them nice and easy.
Rubbing my eyes, I head to the shower to wash and get changed. I get dressed, putting on some comfortable as fuck jeans, a dark blue, long sleeve t-shirt, and a splash of aftershave. No harm in being presentable when I see Nancy and try to pull the wool over her eyes. I’d already clocked the way she’d eyed me when I rented this place from her. I’m not above using all the weapons in my arsenal to get what I want.
A couple of hours later and my phone buzzes. Jill is here. I go to meet her at the car park, and together we walk to Nancy’s floating home as I fill her in.
“So, you get it?” I ask after going through it all. “You’re here to tell Nancy we are working on a case and watching Abi who may be in danger. I need to put up security cameras and motion sensors on the dock by the houseboat, and we need Nancy to take Abi out for a couple of hours while we check out her place. We can’t make her think Abi’s a liability though. We’ll tell her she’s totally innocent but may be in some trouble.”
Jill gives an impatient nod of her head. “I’ve got it, Muscles.”
She uses the nickname she gave me a couple of years ago. It always amuses me because I don’t think of myself as particularly big, not beside Reece who is six feet five, and weighs two hundred and fifty pounds, give or take.
When we knock on the door to Nancy’s home, it takes her a few minutes to answer. I’m almost ready to walk away, thinking she must be out when the door opens, and she pops her head out.
“Oh, hi, Liam.” She gives me a smile, clocks Jill in her formal clothing and her expression changes, her brow furrowing. These days Jill might as well have law enforcement tattooed on her head, she gives off the vibe so strongly.
“We need to talk to you about the young woman renting your houseboat,” I state.
Nancy gives a jerk of her head toward her living area. “You’d better come in then.”
She’s gone from friendly to downright frosty, and I wonder if she doesn’t like the law. Some people who live in this community still carry the inherent distrust brewed in the artists communes of a previous era.
She indicates for us to take a seat on the sofa and curls herself up in a plush chair opposite us.
“This is Jill Harlem. She’s with the FBI.”
Jill smiles and takes her badge out, handing it to Nancy to take a good look at.
“We have reason to think Abigail may be in some danger.”
Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Has she done something wrong?”
“No,” I interject quickly. “She’s done nothing wrong. But she might be in danger.”
Nancy nods, and her face relaxes. “I figured as much from her behavior. She screams abused woman. Too nervy, and she makes herself small in her space, if you know what I mean? I know the signs.”
She’s observant and yes, Abigail is abused, and it’s shitty of me, but I use it to my advantage. I tell the truth, sort of. “She’s running from an abusive partner who is also more dangerous than she knows. We need to keep tabs on her by putting some motion sensor detectors up on the dock by her boat. They’ll alert us if anyone tries to get on the boat. It’s the end of the dock, and quiet, so not many people walk by on a regular basis.”
Nancy gives a subtle incline of her head, which I take as a possible okay.
“I also need to get on her boat. She may have unwittingly taken something of her partner’s and I need to take a look at it. We’re here to ask if you can get her to go out with you for an hour or so this afternoon?”
Nancy chews on her cheek. After a long pause she gives me a cold look. “I don’t like lying to that girl, and duping her into coming out with me knowing you’re all going to be sniffing around her things and invading her privacy.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” Jill interjects. “I understand. Really, I do, but you could be saving her life.”
Nancy sighs and looks away from us to stare out of the window. When she looks back, I know she’s going to do it. It’s in her eyes. “When do you want me to take her out?”
“When it suits you,” I tell her. “Is there somewhere you can go? A place to take her?”
“Yeah.” She smiles then. “There’s a bar and diner five minutes from here, they have an eating area, but you can also get great hot wings in
the bar and dogs are allowed there. I’ll take her, say its my treat to welcome her to the area. I’m glad I gave her a discount on the rent now, I figured she was in trouble when I first saw her.”
“Yes, she is.” I don’t sugarcoat it and it’s the truth. “But hopefully we can make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”
When we’re done, Jill leaves her phone number with Nancy and walks me back to where I’m staying. She gives me a small smile and touches my forearm. “A couple of hours to kill until Nancy does her thing. Are you sure you don’t want to spend it working up a sweat?”
I look at her. Beautiful and curvy under her formal suit, but I shake my head. “No. I need to keep my head in the game.”
“Who is she?” she asks, her head to one side.
Damn her for being so perceptive.
“No one. At least,” I tell the truth, “I’m no one to her, I don’t know what she is to me.”
“She must have a magic pussy.” Jill smirks at her own joke.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Wow. The great Liam falls for some woman and he’s not even screwed her.”
“I haven’t fallen for anyone. But I’m…I don’t know, Jill. To be honest, I don’t screw around much. You and me, that might have given you the impression I do casual sex, but I don’t, or not very often. The guys I work with think I’m some kind of monk, and outside of what you and me shared, the only time I have sex is the rare occasions I go visit a friend in London who runs a high end sex club. And it’s anonymous and cold, and just the way I like it.”
“Okay. I didn’t know. I thought you were a player.”
I laugh. “Nope. Don’t need the hassle. Everyone at the club is there knowing what they want. The women are married or in a partnership, everyone is tested, and condoms are a must. It’s…” I trail off.
“It’s sad is what it is.” Her face is serious now. “Do you feel any real passion for these women?”
I frown and don’t say anything, letting my silence be the answer.
“I’ve nothing against casual sex, as you and me should be proof enough of,” she tells me. “But I like my encounters to be fun, or exciting. I want to feel something. Otherwise I might as well stay home and use my trusty Rabbit.”