That made me laugh. “Sometimes I’m able to use my powers for good.”
This time his smile was warm and it melted some of the ice around my heart. It felt right to talk to him. He held out his glass and I poured in a splash of the mellow bourbon.
“Sorry this story got so long. Jim Mitchell’s San Antonio offer was still good and I came through here on the way to report for duty. I was doing the creepy-stalker thing at the courthouse when a local rousted me. Lucky for me I had my badge or I might have been calling you for bail. You came out the side door by yourself looking so hurt and tired that it broke my heart. I lost my nerve and headed on. But this time I decided that I had to talk to you.”
Why now?
For the first time, I really looked at him. His hair was longer than I’d ever seen it and his clothes were one step above rags. The Harley had a road-worn custom look to it.
No.
“You’re going back undercover? With an MC? That’s why you’re here, to say goodbye? To get absolution?” Rusty old emotions, feelings I hadn’t used in months, creaked to life.
He backed out of arm’s reach.
“Ethan, you’re burned with the Gatos and their network. If they get a whiff of you, then it’s a green light and there’s not a thing I can do about it except answer for you.”
“Calm down. I think you already loosened a filling. This has nothing to do with them. I remember very well the promise you gave to save my life and I won’t violate it. This crew is a bunch of peckerwoods from down south. They’re not anything the Gatos would even notice, much less bother with.”
“But why? Why does it have to be you?” His attempt at humor failed and, if anything, made my anger and panic rev even higher.
“An old source of mine popped up on the radar. I’m going in as a prospect with my bottom rocker. You know what that means. I’m just short of being patched. They’re mostly meth transporters, but there’s some rumbling about a much bigger operation in the works, and my contact would only vouch for me. I’m meeting them at Sturgis. Baby, if I don’t get away from this, I’m going to kill somebody. If you need to punch me for that, then bring it.”
The problem when something thaws, like my heart, is that it starts to ache. But, I knew that look in his eyes and remembered his words: I don’t like to be leashed.
Something told me I could cajole and shame him into staying and something else told me how well it would work if I did.
I swallowed hard. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you to go forth and be awesome and come back with your shield or on it? Is that what you fucking want?” I wasn’t sorry for the nastiness in my words. It was time to put everything on the table.
He stood very close to me. Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his skin.
“Juliana, I don’t know what I wanted except to see myself reflected in your eyes one more time. I have to go do this. I need the space and the clarity. After that, I’ll be back when both of us can forgive me.”
His lips on mine were halting, like he expected me to jump. I didn’t. There was no heat, but as I returned the kiss, the loneliness and longing broke through. Too soon, he pulled back and brushed a tear off my cheek.
“You know, even scuzzy bikers are connected these days.”
He handed me a business card with all the typical e-mail and social media handles printed on it.
"Gano's Chandlery?"
“He outfits the kind of sailboats that only guys like your dad can afford. I’ve known Max since the academy. The business is legit and covers his assignment. You can trust him. We use his online sites to pass messages when we’re out in the field. If you post something there, I’ll get it. It may not be fast, but it will happen.”
“What’s his assignment? If you can tell me.”
“Let’s leave it at information conduit. Max has a lot of skills. Not all of them are sanctioned.”
I put the card in my skirt pocket. “Got it. How will you know a message is from me?”
He stroked my hair. “You’ll make sure I know.”
“Ethan, I hate this and part of me hates you for it. But I get it, I really do. Lately, I’ve remembered that my house has wheels.”
He laughed. “Do it. If things were different, I’d invite myself along.”
I looked up at him, a thought forming in my head. Just as quickly, another one intruded.
My assignment was to gain your trust, appeal to you, to charm the info out of you.
I tensed and he stepped back. He was right, things needed to be different. It wasn’t the passion I missed, it was the trust. I hoped time would lance that wound, because it was one that Mom’s surgeons couldn’t touch.
Without another word, he kissed my hand and left the office. After a quick stop to give Simon a head scratch, he pulled on his jacket and disappeared down Angel Lane.
I remembered when I’d calculated how fast I’d have to run to catch him at the entrance to the park. After the right number of seconds ticked off on my watch, the high-pitched scream of a motorcycle hitting the highway cut through the still air.
CHAPTER 84
“Stop messing with the drainage hose. We’ve been through the checklist four times. I’m either going to make it or I’m not.”
Stella gave the bracket one last turn of the screw and stood. “Oh, all right. It’s not like you’re going boondocking out at Slab City. But, promise me you’ll find a mechanic if that comes loose. Del always had trouble with it.”
“Oh please. I’ll be finding a mechanic if a light bulb burns out. This thing scares me to death. I don’t know how you drive that bus.”
“My brother taught me. I’m actually dying of jealousy. I remember what it’s like to take off for the first time. Since you won’t use a GPS, do you have your maps?”
I help up the clipboard with the Heaven’s Gate logo emblazoned across the top.
“Yes, Mother. I think I could find it in my sleep. I also have my wi-fi hotspot, extra phone chargers, RV manual, emergency phone list, flashlights, fire extinguisher, road atlas, and first aid kit. Now go on and let me lock up. I promise I’ll text when I stop for the night.”
She knew she was beat and enveloped me in a warm gentle hug. A twinge of panic blossomed, but I counted to three and reminded myself what Stella means to me. This and a few other tricks from my shrink were helping me break down that wall.
“Honk on your way by the office, even if it’s closed. It’s a Gater good-luck tradition.”
I waved as she drove away in her electric cart with my set of spare keys and an envelope on the seat beside her. I’d stashed the lion’s share of my cash and the journal with Gerald, safe from any federal eyes. I’d also done a will, leaving it all to Stella if something happened to me.
“Come on, Simon, it’s time to get this show on the road.”
He scampered into the cab and onto the passenger seat where I clipped him to the harness Uncle Jimmy had rigged. When my dog was settled, I snapped his photo with my phone. A few clicks and it was on Max’s “Beach Vacations” Facebook page. I thought about the caption.
You’ll make sure I know.
With a smile, I typed: Simon says: Biloxi or bust.
After mentally running through the checklist one more time, I pressed the gas and eased forward. When I crossed the gutter at the end of the driveway, I was rewarded with a loud thump from the back. In the passenger side mirror, I watched water pour out of the camper onto the concrete.
“Simon, did you put that gallon jug in the fridge?”
I was answered with a polite tail wag.
“Dude, you had one job.”
It’s amazing how big of a puddle a gallon of water makes when it’s coming from under a camper door. I thanked the RV deities that Stella wasn’t here. Her lectures still ringing in my ears, I knew I should clean up, restock, and check to make sure nothing else was unsecured.
“Let’s live dangerously. I’ll bet they have water in Mississippi. Time
to rock and roll.”
Still dribbling, I snaked my way through the park and honked twice as I passed the office. I was going to need all the luck I could get.
THE END
Enjoy this excerpt from Book 2 of the Juliana Martin Mysteries: Ride the Lightning
I always knew my law degree would come in handy. I'd been promoted from bartender to manager of the strip club outside of Biloxi in less than three months. I took over after the owner walked in on my old boss auditioning a dancer on the couch in his office. The books were a mess, both sets. It turned out the staff wasn't all he'd been tapping.
Amateur.
No one would ever find the skim I'd set up. My dad had taught his only daughter well. This time the owner didn't have a problem with it because it all benefitted him. As long as I kept the cash flowing, he gave me free rein to run The Lightning Lounge as I saw fit.
A definite management challenge littered my desk. I was arranging the biggest bash in county history. The sheriff had commandeered the club for a party celebrating the execution of Billy Ray Floyd. The former police officer, convicted of killing his wife, a Lightning dancer, was scheduled to get the stick in six weeks. The club owner told me the sky was the limit.
I riffled through my spreadsheets and made notes. The new sound system was online and the upgraded flooring gleamed and reflected the motion sensor lights. One huge problem remained. No matter how I shuffled the schedule, I didn't have enough waitresses and dancers to man the tables and the poles for the multi-day event. I'd placed ads and been interviewing, but the pickings were slim.
A knock at my office door interrupted my musing. Hopefully, part of the solution had just arrived.
"Come on in," I said, standing to greet her. If I wanted class, I needed to show some.
She glided into the room on red stilettos. Her painted-on jeans and tank top hugged ample curves all the way up to a mass of blonde curls that Dolly Parton would kill for. She was no schoolgirl, I could see the horizon of forty in her face, but she owned it.
I took the out-stretched hand dripping with rings and jangly bracelets. Her grip was strong and sure. This was a woman who could wrestle trays of beer mugs and make it look easy.
"Sit down," I glanced at her application, "Miss Carmichael."
"Please, call me Maddie." I'd been in Biloxi long enough to start noticing the difference in accents. I couldn't place it, but she wasn't from around here.
I pushed her application, heavy with experience behind the counter in diners, aside and assessed her. I'd discovered that the same radar that used to tell me when a client or witness was lying helped me spot closet speed freaks, wannabe hookers, and those likely to dip into the till. Maddie's wide blue eyes met my gaze without flinching. I saw humor and intelligence there instead of the Free Parking sign I saw in so many.
"So, Maddie, have you ever worked at a titty bar?"
"Not exactly, but I think I have the right qualifications."
The laugh that bubbled up made my decision. I liked this broad.
"I can put you on a training shift this Thursday. It's our slowest night. The crews from the factories haven't been paid yet and it's all-you-can-eat crab at the casinos. Get here at four so you can meet the dancers. Also, swap out the FMs for some comfortable shoes. You'll be logging some mileage."
I handed her a paperwork package. "Fill this out and bring your ID with you. I run a clean place. Everybody is paid on the books. No hooking during working hours. No champagne scams. None of that shit."
"You sure you're running a roadhouse and not a convent?"
"Hardly. Make sure those jeans are machine washable, you'll be collecting plenty of handprints. We get tourists looking for the wild side, every cop in three counties, and the well-paid boys from the chemical plant. My business plan is to legally separate those good folks from as much their green as possible. You and your qualifications fit that goal perfectly."
"I think I'm going to like it here, Ms. Martin."
"Please, call me Juliana."
I pulled a token out of my desk drawer and gave it to Maddie. "Feel free to stay and look around or come in before your shift. We actually have a half-way decent fry cook. That will get you lunch and a drink. I'll see you tomorrow night."
I stood, indicating the interview was over. One more slot filled.
Devil's Deal Page 26