After an hour that stretched into eternity, my phone beeped with an incoming text.
Dallas. Outside front door. Unlock it and step back.
The Dallas code told me he hadn't encountered anything. I sighed in relief and did as instructed. With the grace of a dancer, he slipped inside and closed the door with no more sound than the faint click of the deadbolt.
I turned on my flashlight. Even all in black and scowling, I could have kissed him. He glared at the light.
"It's cool. The windows are covered. Thank you, Max."
He relaxed and said. "Sorry, it took so long. I sent my infrared drone on a quick circuit of the neighborhood to see if we had any hidden friends. There were a few cars with warm engines, but they were all in driveways. So far, it's all clear. Still, we're not going to take any chances."
"Where did you park? I didn't hear your car."
"The van is a few blocks over. We are going to very quietly walk out, get in your car, and get the hell out of here."
"The van?"
"My Mustang is in parked in plain sight in front of my beach cottage. The TV is on and there's beer and pizza on the table. A week ago, I rented a lower-key ride and stashed it behind the empty unit next to me. Come on. We can talk later. I want you and whatever was worth the risk out of this house. Now."
Before I knew it, I was behind the wheel of a compact white commercial van so common that it might as well be invisible. Except in this one, the strapped down cargo was a sleek motorcycle and several cases of equipment. Max decided to take my car because if anyone was waiting, they'd go after it before the van.
After a short stressful drive, we were in the parking lot of the club. The blazing neon and music drifting through the open doors didn't soothe. The familiarity felt foreign. I waited in the van until he'd parked my car in its regular spot in the shed by the back door. When he came around the corner, he was still dressed in black, but the sidearm was gone, and he'd adjusted his stance and gait from warrior to bored hipster.
"How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Change to suit your surroundings?"
"More practice than I want to talk about in more places than I want to think about."
I took the cue not to press the issue. Instead, I said, "I'm going to text Ethan and see if he can come over later. I need to talk to him, and I don't want to be alone here tonight."
"He's gone."
The short answer caught me off guard. The surprise must have shown on my face.
"Sorry, Sweetheart. I didn't mean it like that. He's out of town. I've been tracking his phone, remember? The GPS puts him somewhere in New Orleans. Probably on a drug run for the MC. Look, it's not much, but my place has a couch, and you're welcome to it."
I thought about it for a second. "My office has a couch, and it's awesome. Any chance you'd come by after closing? I could bring you all the way up to date, and I'd sleep better with you and alarms and my dog around me."
"That's the nicest invitation ever. Absolutely. I need to get back to my pizza and beer. Call me when you're closed down, and I'll jump on this white horse and be right over."
"Please park it out here. There are always a few extra cars overnight from the drunks and the hookups. If anybody sees it out back, they'll think I'm cheating on my biker. My rep has taken enough of a beating the last couple of weeks."
"I'll move like the night, fair lady. Now, go on."
CHAPTER 30
I thanked all the scheduling deities that it was Joey's night off. There was no way I could get by him with my dust-smeared clothes and hair without getting that raised eyebrow that asked more questions than I was willing to answer.
Instead, I waved to the bartender and walked past him to my office. I did a quick change into my usual black and took my place without offering any more explanation than an apology for being late. The bar's pace was busy enough to discourage idle conversation. I willed the clock around to last call and pitched in to speed the closing work. The last taillight of my departing crew had barely cleared the stop sign at the corner when I called Max. True to his word, there was a discreet knock on the side door in record time.
His whole mood was relaxed, and I felt like I was finally seeing the real Max Gano. In jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, I was looking at a guy who was as off duty as he ever gets. The final test was passed when Simon gave his shoes a sniff and rolled over for a belly rub.
"This is the guard dog I've heard so much about?"
"If a mouse skitters across the floor, he'll let us know with a bark that can etch glass."
I took his gym bag and tossed it on the sofa. "What can I get you? Coffee? Beer? Did the pizza fill you up? There are leftovers in the kitchen."
"Since you've got a story to tell me, how about a cup of coffee with a shot of Jack."
"At your service. Grab a table and I'll be right out."
When I came out with coffee and an unopened bottle of bourbon, I found him exactly where I'd expected. He was in a booth with his back to the wall and away from the windows. He'd also closed all the blinds tight against the night.
"All right Juliana, it's you and me. Two friends talking. I left my FBI hat in the van. What's this all about?"
I poured him a generous shot and said, "Call me Jewel."
By the time I'd rewound everything to the beginning of my life after the Texas disaster, how I ended up at the club, hiring Maddie, Ethan showing up, the Simpson case, and me calling him, we'd put a decent dent in the bottle. I was pleasantly buzzed and getting tired, but he hadn't turned a hair.
"Even though I knew the basics about Billy Ray, this is all pretty unbelievable," was all he said.
"I know." I waved off another shot.
"What you did tonight was stupid and reckless."
I hung my head. "I keep going back to what if I hadn't locked the front door."
He took my hand and looked me straight in the eye. "Then you would have killed whoever came through it, and I'd be figuring out how to dispose of a body. You're not a victim. Not anymore."
As I usually did when I was feeling vulnerable, I traced the scar underneath my shirt and tried to deflect my feelings with a joke. "You're very dashing. If it wasn't for Ethan, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."
He pulled his hand back. "If it wasn't for Ethan, I might be. For now, let's get some sleep. I want to see this diary, but in bright light and without the benefit of alcohol. Show me to that sofa and it had damn well better be awesome."
* * *
I didn't know how long I'd been asleep when Simon bolted off the bed and out of my apartment. I always left the doggy door open after I'd packed it in for the evening. It was fully dark, and I could still feel the effects of the whiskey, so I suspected it hadn't been long. This wasn't unusual. I'd been serious about Simon reacting to every noise in the building. Usually, he went to investigate, came back in a few minutes, and I'd have a little puddle to clean up in the morning.
His barking is what brought me fully awake and to my feet. It wasn't his usual yipping at the wind. This was loud, shrill, furious and coming from the main bar.
No.
I nearly collided with Max as I ran into my office. I pulled my shotgun out of the harness and checked the load. No birdshot tonight. I flipped the selector switch to double-aught buck.
"There's a Mossberg pistol grip under the bar at the north end. It's not chambered."
He motioned to his waistband and said, "I'm good, but thanks for telling me."
Simon's barking stopped with a yelp that tore my heart in half. I was dead sober when I turned and said, "What's the plan?"
"Whoever it is knows that you're here. I'm the wildcard. You lead. Keep your weapon down and act like a damsel in distress who's more concerned for her dog than her safety. Stay to the left, behind the bar. I'll be to your right. If he gets a hand on you, blow him away and scream."
I nodded my assent and left the office. At the double doors, I choked back my anger and forced a quaver into my voi
ce, "Simon? Simon says. Come out, sweet boy. What's all the fussing? Another mouse?"
I kept up a steady stream of insipid baby talk as I edged behind the bar. I had two jobs. I was attracting the intruder's attention, and my voice was covering the sound of Max's approach. I kept swiveling my head, calling my dog, and peeking in the bar back mirror. My night vision was still too poor to detect any movement. A cool breeze caught my attention. The lighter square in the north wall told me that the side door was open.
Why the fuck didn't the alarm go off?
"Simon, did you go out the door? Are you being a naughty boy?"
I sensed more than heard Max making his way along the wall to my right. I increased my sweet talk and got a surprise. A hint of light brown and white and my dog scurried from his hiding place. Forgetting the danger, I scooped him up and held him close to me. His heart was beating a mile a minute and the flattened ears and tucked tail broadcast his terror. He didn't squawk when I hugged him. I hoped that meant he wasn't hurt. I put him in a bus tub underneath the bar and prayed he would stay still.
I was almost upright when a section of the mirror and a row of top-shelf liquor exploded behind me. Two more shots in quick succession hit the cash register and shattered the giant jar of dill pickles. The mixture of booze and vinegar gagged me as I stood and scanned the room with the Cutter. I was done with this.
"Max, where are you?"
"I'm on your three. Shots from your ten."
I didn't hesitate. I swung around and pulled the trigger. Even blinded by the muzzle flash, I caught a hint of motion through the dazzle and fired again. The big mirror between the restroom doors shattered. Still blinded, I tracked the sound of scrambling feet and winced when two booming pistol shots from my right blew out one of the picture windows. There was a metallic clank, and the other side door rocketed open to a blaring klaxon and blaze of emergency lights.
* * *
Shielding my eyes from the strobes, I only had a few moments to digest that the burglar alarm that hadn't sounded on the north door just went off on the south side. Mentally, I ticked off the checklist and knew the phone would be ringing in about sixty seconds. It would be the alarm company informing me that police and fire had been dispatched and asking if there were any injuries.
Shit.
"Max, we've got about five or six minutes before the first sheriff unit gets here. Unless we want to answer some obnoxiously hard questions, you've got to play along."
"What do you need from me?"
"Give me your shirt. Get in my bedroom and take off your shoes and socks. Mess up my bed. I'll be right in."
Despite the chaos as the alarm cycled off and back on again, he smiled and winked. In a flash, his shirt was sailing toward me, and he disappeared through the swinging doors.
Ignoring the ringing phone, I stripped down to my panties, tied his shirt high under my breasts, and tousled my hair. Gathering my clothes, I said, "C'mon Simon, we have to convince the sheriff that Mommy is a slut."
I stopped in my office long enough to throw the blankets on the couch into the closet before I went into my bedroom. Ignoring his amused look, I scattered my clothes around the tossed bed. He'd mis-buttoned his jeans to mimic a man who'd gotten dressed in the dark and the waistband of his underwear was visible on one side. A department store designer brand, the type a suburbanite with enough game to knock over a bartender would wear. I was wrong earlier. Max was never off duty.
"They'll want to see your weapon. Luckily, this is Mississippi. No one will question why you have it on you. Is your cover solid?"
"Like a rock. I'm a mild-mannered boat buyer out scouting for new treasures who was evidently about to get really really lucky before that burglar spoiled everything."
"Let's be out in the bar, looking sufficiently shocked when they show up, which should be in about two minutes. I know their response times because I let them run exercises here to help with my insurance. I'm the distraction. Think it'll work?"
The look he gave me wasn't totally from a friend.
"Oh yeah, it'll work."
* * *
When the first sirens wailed into the parking lot, I had the alarm turned off and the front door opened. I was sitting on a stool with my tattooed leg stretched out and toes pointed for maximum effect. I had a drink in my shaking hand, and Max was stroking my hair.
Sheriff Harry Sheldon entered the room flanked by two of his deputies. I studied his expression and found surprise and concern. I didn't trust him, but his reaction struck me as genuine.
His unease at my appearance was also in direct contrast to his usual oily leer. I pressed my back into Max's chest and gripped the arm he put around my shoulders. I kept my legs and body in a pose that exposed more than I liked, but the less everyone looked anywhere else, the better.
"Miss Martin, are you okay? What happened here?"
A reassuring squeeze from Max was all I needed to launch into a burbling story about how we'd been in bed and interrupted by Simon's barking, and we'd chased the "burglar" out the side door tripping the alarm. I finished up with effusive thanks for their fast response and how much safer I felt with them all there.
I caught an expression off to one side that definitely wasn't buying my breathy performance. Joey was in his EMT uniform and carrying a first responder kit.
"The alarm company dispatched us when you didn't answer the phone. Are you or your friend injured?"
That broke the veneer of professionalism in the room and the deputies smirked or laughed behind their hand. My relationship with Ethan evidently was gossip-fodder beyond the club. And now, here I was in my undies and wearing a shirt that most definitely didn't belong to an outlaw biker. I wondered how long it would take to get to the farm. I doubted it would be long.
"I'm sorry you got called out here. I'm, I mean we're fine. The alarm was so loud and it was all so scary that I didn't even notice the ringing phone."
Joey stepped forward and said, "Protocol says I need to check your vitals, and then I can leave you to your business. Sir, would you step aside for a moment?"
An expression passed between the two men, and I knew they recognized each other. Max complied and crossed his arms over his bare chest. I meekly let my head bartender take my pulse, blood pressure, and check my pupils.
"Ma'am, have you been drinking?"
There was no need to lie. "Yes. But not for a few hours."
"You were busy."
I sensed he was messing with me now. His sly expression confirmed it before me moved on to Max. After a couple of minutes, he declared we were both fit and uninjured and asked the sheriff for permission to return to the base. Once dismissed, he left without another word. I knew I'd get an earful in the morning.
The awkward atmosphere I'd managed to create infected all the responders. The fire department did a quick inspection to make sure there was no danger, took a last look at me, and left. Finally, it was me, Max, Sheldon, and two deputies. Tony Romero snapped a few photos with a digital camera that was new ten years ago. The other took a few notes about our weapons. I decided to give them what they needed, an excuse to leave.
"Harry, I mean Sheriff Sheldon, do you think the burglar will be back? I don't know if he got anything. I'll do an inventory in the morning for insurance."
He grabbed my cue like a fish swallowing a lure. "I doubt it. You two gave him what for. Most likely some kid looking for free hooch. Do you keep cash here?"
"All the receipts are in the safe, and it wasn't touched. How about I send you a copy of the inventory and the damage estimates? In case you catch him."
"You do that. I'll put it in the file so you can ask for restitution if we get him in custody. Send me the alarm company report as well. I'll be interested in how he got in."
Max stepped forward and cut off the answer I was trying to formulate. "Uh, Sir, I'm to blame. Earlier on, I stepped outside to grab a smoke. She hit the buttons to let me out. I can't remember if she did when I came back in. I might not have
gotten it latched all the way, it being so late and all. I'm really sorry."
It was hard not to laugh at his hangdog expression and conciliatory tone. It worked. Knowing nods rippled around the group. A tourist hit the mother lode and was thinking more about his johnson than locking the door.
"Mister," the sheriff looked at his notebook before continuing with a note of hope in his voice, "Gano. So, the door might not have been locked?"
I stepped in. "I'll bet that's right. All the doors except that one are on the same circuit. You need a keycard and the code to open them. That door has its own circuit and special code for the fire department. No keycard. How embarrassing."
"Okay, let's do this. Tomorrow, after everyone's had a chance to pull themselves together, I'll send someone out here to take written statements. You do your inventory and get somebody to look at the damage. Make sure you lock those doors good and tight. That window is open, but only at the top. There's plenty of glass to keep out the curious until you can get it boarded up. We've done all we can tonight. Off the record, I'll tell you to reload."
"Thank you so much, Sheriff." I extended my hand. It was obvious he didn't want to get that close to me. He nodded and gestured for his deputies to follow him.
"Lock those doors."
I nodded and waved. When the lights faded, we went around and checked every door and window. When we got to the open door, I stopped.
"Max, come here." A single red light that I'd never noticed blinked at the end of the panel.
"What am I looking at?"
"That light at the end. It's not part of the arming sequence."
He pulled out his key ring and shined a small light on the panel.
"It says MX. I know what happened. Get this door manually locked and let's get out of sight in case anyone is watching. We're supposed to be in the throes of a one-night stand, remember?"
His words reminded me that my damn near naked self was clearly outlined in the open door and whoever had done this was still out there.
"Close the door and let me throw the bolt already."
* * *
It was gray dawn by the time I'd changed, given him back his shirt, and whipped up much-needed coffee. With the adrenaline wearing off, my hour of sleep wasn't cutting it. Max had reloaded and readied our weapons and was checking Simon for injuries. Seeing my sweet tiny dog traumatized made me angrier than being shot at.
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