Jackie snapped out of her daze, somehow not wanting to be reminded of such fond memories right now. She stuffed the photo into the bag then opened one of the desk drawers. She removed a semiautomatic and several clips then tossed them into the bag as well. Bogart entered the study with a bottle of beer in his hand. She briefly glanced at him. He didn’t seem to care about drinking so early in the morning. Then again, since he’d been up all night, technically, it was late at night for him. She continued to search the desk drawers.
“Place is clear,” Bogart announced while drinking his beer. He flashed a piece of paper in his hand. “Someone left a note for you on the frig.”
She cast a sharp look at him and the paper he held. She tensed and gently cleared her throat. “Would you mind putting that back where you found it?”
He appeared slightly surprised by her comment. “Sure,” Bogart replied. “You going to be here awhile?”
“Just long enough to get some clothing and then I’m out of here,” she informed him as she rubbed her chilled arms while looking around. “I could really use a shower, but I don’t feel safe here. I feel like I’m being watched.”
“You go on and take that shower,” Bogart informed her firmly then offered a jovial smile. “I’m here. Ain’t no one gonna get in here without my knowing.”
She was hesitant to believe him let alone trust him, but she felt grimy from her impromptu swim in the lake. She gave it some thought then reluctantly nodded.
“I’ll make it a quick shower,” she announced then gave him a firm, serious stare. “You need to remain alert, Bogart. If the governor’s men show up, they won’t hesitate going through you to get to me.”
He grinned and appeared humored. “Let them try,” he announced. “You grab that shower and let me worry about the governor’s henchmen. Plenty of people want me dead. Ain’t none got me yet.”
“As long as you’re sure,” she replied while grabbing her bag. She still wasn’t convinced about letting her guard down, but something told her Bogart could handle himself.
“Need a ride somewhere else?” he asked with a curious look. “Ain’t like I have much else to do.”
“Thanks, but I have a car,” she informed him.
“License plates are traceable,” he remarked firmly. “You’re in luck though. I have a few spare ones in my truck.” Bogart smiled and winked at her. “You know, in case of an emergency. Where’s the car?”
She wasn’t about to ask, and she didn’t want to know. “In the garage.” She indicated the note in his hand. “Don’t forget to put that note back.”
He eyed the note and then her. Her obsession with the paper seemed to peak his curiosity. Bogart saluted her, grinned, and left the study.
†
Jackie entered the second floor bathroom just off her bedroom. It was a semi-private bathroom with a door on each end, so the bathroom could be shared by the two bedrooms. She locked both doors and started the shower. She removed the semiautomatic from her duffle bag, flipped on the safety, and hung the gun by the trigger guard from a hook on the back shower wall. She intended to take the quickest shower in the history of showers. Jackie hastily threw her clothes to the floor and jumped into the shower beyond frosted glass doors. As she rushed through washing her hair, she attempted to hear past the sounds of the rushing water and kept her eyes fixed on the semiautomatic hanging on the back wall of the shower. Anyone attempting to sneak up on her while in the shower would be in for a rude surprise. She finished rinsing her hair and quickly lathered her body. As the last of the soapy water washed down the drain, she heard what sounded like a dull thud from just outside the bathroom.
Her heart nearly stopped as she froze and attempted to listen more closely. She was almost positive she heard the bathroom door opening. As she stared at the frosted shower doors, she swore she’d seen a shadow. Jackie grabbed the gun from the hook, held it in her wet hand, and reached for the glass door. When the shadow moved, she felt panic sweep through her entire body. She threw open the glass door with the gun aimed at the open doorway. Bogart stood in the doorway with a bag of cookies in his hand. When he saw the naked woman holding a gun aimed at him, he dropped the bag and held up his hands.
“Don’t shoot, it’s just me!” he cried out then swept his eyes over her naked body. His eyes were wide as he stared helplessly. “Holy shit!”
Jackie cried out with frustration, grabbed a towel from the bar with her free hand, and held it to her naked body. The gun remained trained on Bogart. She waved the gun at him with anger and embarrassment.
“Get the hell out of here!”
That she had to tell him to get out was unbelievable! Bogart darted out of the bathroom. Jackie’s shoulders sagged as she groaned and lowered the gun. Bogart’s hand appeared along the floor and snatched the bag of cookies before disappearing out the open door. Jackie got out of the shower, took two quick steps to the open door, and slammed it shut with disgust. She again locked the door and hastily dried herself as the gun lie on the bathroom sink only inches from her. She quickly slipped into her clean clothing, grabbed the gun and her duffle bag, and left the bathroom through the same door Bogart had exited. Bogart leaned in her bedroom doorway and ate cookies from the bag without a care. She looked at him then the gun in her hand and wondered what was preventing her from shooting him. It was too late. The time to shoot him would have been when he first walked in on her. Now, shooting him would just seem rude.
“What the hell is your problem?” she exploded without releasing the gun, although she refrained from aiming it at him.
“Me?” he cried out. “You’re the one showering with a loaded weapon. You’re scary!”
“And you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” she lashed back at him. “What were you thinking? Why the hell would you walk in on a woman in the shower?” She hesitated, considered her question, and came to an alarming conclusion. She immediately turned hostile. “I may just shoot you yet.”
He didn’t appear unusually concerned, but he was extremely defensive. “I heard a clunk,” Bogart announced. “I thought you might be in trouble, so I thought I’d check on you.” He raised his brow and glared at her defensively. “I’d think you’d be smart enough to lock the door--all things considered.”
“I did lock the door,” she scoffed with annoyance.
“Um, no, I don’t think so,” he replied. “If you had, I wouldn’t have just been able to walk in.”
Jackie hesitated and stared at him. “That clunk,” she announced with concern for the first time, “it wasn’t you?”
“If it had been me, why would I need to check on you?” he demanded.
She suddenly felt alarm and looked around the room. She looked to the bathroom door then at Bogart in silent question. Jackie nodded to a baseball bat near her bed then to the hallway. Bogart only needed a second the catch on. He tossed his bag of cookies aside, grabbed the bat, and entered the hallway. Jackie returned to the bathroom and approached the locked door to the adjoining bedroom. She only stood there a moment before hearing a crash from the adjoining bedroom. Jackie unlocked and threw open the door. A cat spat at her and ran through the bathroom and into her bedroom, its fur standing on end. Bogart approached the bathroom door from the adjoining bedroom and shook his head.
“You could have told me you had a cat,” he remarked. “I nearly brained the poor thing.”
“I don’t own a cat,” she firmly replied. “That’s the neighbor’s cat. I wonder how it got inside.”
“I’m guessing it slipped inside with one of your many admirers,” Bogart replied and twirled the bat to his shoulder then made a slow motion swing.
She groaned softly, shut her eyes, and placed her hand with the gun to her forehead. “I really have to get out of here,” she muttered softly.
As she looked at Bogart, he continued with imaginary batting practice. His lack of concern for the entire situation stunned her, considering she nearly shot him. If she were honest with herself, she still w
anted to shoot him.
†
Jackie entered the attached garage from the kitchen doorway and looked at the shiny black mustang with a slight layer of dust covering it. It was ten years old yet appeared brand new. Bogart leaned against a work counter while eating cereal from a box and admired the car.
“Nice. Where’d you get it?”
“It was my father’s,” she informed him. “Being out of the country on missions a lot, he rarely drove it. I only drive it on special occasions.”
“Eluding the FBI?” he teased. “Sounds like a special occasion to me.”
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to abandon it,” she replied with a defeated sigh.
He straightened, lowered his cereal box, and looked at her with surprise. “That’s a sin.”
“I spoke with Monroe,” she informed him. “He gave me another contact, so I’d better go.”
“Well, good luck,” he announced cheerfully. “I’d say see you around, but I doubt it.” He grinned teasingly. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll hang out a bit, maybe watch a little television and catch a nap.”
“Make yourself at home.”
“By the way, your cereal is stale.”
“Yeah, it’s four weeks old.”
He chuckled in response then ate another handful despite how bad it must have tasted.
Despite his faults, he was starting to grow on her. “Thank you, Bogart.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
Bogart smiled charmingly and opened the car door for her. She returned the smile and got inside. She pressed the garage door opener within the car. The garage door automatically opened, and she carefully backed out. Bogart took his box of cereal and headed inside.
Chapter Fourteen
After driving nearly two hours, the black mustang pulled up to a country house on a back road around six in the morning. Jackie stopped the car in the driveway before the three-car garage and contemplated shutting off the car. It was too early to knock on the door, and Monroe didn’t provide a phone number for her new contact. As she debated her next move, the garage door suddenly opened. She couldn’t see anyone in or around the massive garage. She uncertainly put the car into gear and pulled in alongside another sports car. As she turned off the car, the door automatically closed. Jackie got out of the car and looked around. Despite only showing three bays from the outside, it was actually a six-car garage, being two cars deep. There were four cars, three furthest away from the bay doors and the sports car alongside hers. Two were rare, classic sports cars and the other two were newer models.
She shut the car door and looked around for any sign of the homeowner. It seemed odd that she’d been invited inside but wasn’t greeted. She couldn’t deny the pang of distrust in the pit of her stomach. Normally, she wasn’t so distrusting, but the last four weeks had taken their toll on her. It also didn’t help that she had some idea the sorts of people Monroe considered ‘acquaintances’. He didn’t offer any warnings about Othello as he had Bogart, so she assumed he didn’t warrant any distrust on her behalf. Still, it was difficult feeling secure around strangers these days. The door attached to the house opened, but there was no one there. Now she was feeling apprehensive. Something didn’t seem right. She turned back to her car and removed her bag from the passenger seat. The gun was readily available at a moment’s notice, and she felt better knowing she had access to it.
As she shut the car door and turned toward the house entrance, a large Rottweiler dog sat in the opening and stared at her with its head tilted. She loved animals, but she didn’t love her current situation or the way the dog stared at her. Did the dog know she was invited? Or did it think she was an intruder? She attempted a smile even though she knew the dog would sense her emotions and not her facial expressions.
“Nice puppy,” she announced nervously.
The dog suddenly tilted its head while staring at her. She was almost certain the dog thought she was its new chew toy. Upon closer inspection, she saw the dog was wearing a wireless transmitter affixed to its collar. A computer monitor suddenly flickered on near the door and the face of an unfamiliar man appeared.
“You must be Jackie,” the man announced enthusiastically. “Meet Darth. Darth will show you to my dungeon.”
She stared at the face on the monitor and forced a smile. “Othello?”
“The one and only,” he replied pleasantly while grinning. “Come on down!”
Jackie gently cleared her throat and approached the serious looking dog in the doorway. The dog barked gruffly, stopping her in her tracks. Darth stood and turned back into the house. Jackie released her nervous breath and followed the dog.
†
Othello’s basement, more fondly known as ‘the dungeon’, was filled with computers, monitors, and security of every kind. Jackie followed Darth down the stairs and immediately stopped at the bottom to look around the organized chaos. In addition to modern technology on every countertop and wall, there was an equal amount of trash and clutter. Her host seemed to enjoy a wide variety of take-out, judging by all the empty pizza boxes and Chinese food cartons. A heavyset man with wild, black curly hair, Othello, turned on his elegant desk chair, looked at her, and grinned.
“Nice to meet you, Jackie,” Othello announced. “I don’t usually get up at such an ungodly hour, but for Monroe, I’ll always make an exception.” He cleaned off the chair alongside him and appeared embarrassed by all the take-out boxes lying around. “You’ll have to forgive the mess. I don’t entertain much.” He hesitated and considered the comment then laughed heartily. “Actually, I haven’t had a face to face conversation in months. Come, sit.”
Jackie approached him at his desk filled with monitors closely watching every inch of his house and property. As she set her bag down and sat in the chair, Darth immediately greeted her. His face was nearly even with hers and looked as if he intended to stare her down. She was sure the dog wanted to eat her.
“I think he likes you,” Othello announced cheerfully then immediately turned serious. “You should probably pet him before he takes offense.”
Jackie uncertainly pet the dog. He placed his large head on her lap and seemed to enjoy the attention. She indicted the wireless transmitter attached to his collar.
“What’s with the transmitter?”
“Oh, I like to maintain radio contact with Darth at all times,” he replied. “He’s very smart. He’s like my personal assistant. Monroe says you need to disappear.” Othello leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I can give you a license, passport, birth certificate, the works--but it’s not cheap.”
“What about a pilot’s license?”
He stared at her a moment then chuckled. “Oh, a challenge,” he announced with a sly smile. “Are you a pilot?”
“Yes, I was working on my commercial airline license until my world fell apart.”
He raised a daringly clever brow. “And you’d like to make the great escape in a private plane?”
“Yes, my father has one at a small field about an hour from here.”
Othello made a buzzing sound, startling her. “Wrong! You’re a pilot with your own plane. The feds will be on your ass before you know they’re there.” He suddenly grinned. “I have a better idea. It’s brilliant, but it’s going to cost you extra.”
“How much?”
He took little time to consider the question. “Give me the car, and we’ll call it even.”
Jackie tossed him the keys without hesitation. Othello turned toward his computer and speed typed.
“I’m going to give you the works and tell you exactly what to do,” he announced while grinning like an evil genius. “What’s your destination?”
“Florida.”
He glanced at her and appeared pleased. “Oh, so you’re off to see the wonderful Monroe of Oz, huh?” Othello slid a basket of temporary hair color toward her with his foot. “Pick a color and get started. The bathroom is in the back.”
†
&
nbsp; Bogart slept reclined in the corner of Jackie’s sofa with one arm clutching the puffy pillow against his side, a bag of chips scattered across his chest, and the sleeping cat on his lap. Despite it being after six in the morning, the glow of the television was the only source of light within the room. The curtains remained closed, keeping the room relatively dark. A shadow loomed over the sleeping man. The cat woke and suddenly hissed, alerting Bogart to company. Bogart opened his eyes and stared at a neatly dressed man standing over him. A second man stood across the room in the doorway. Both resembled hitmen for the mob. The cat dove off Bogart’s lap while hissing and hid behind the nearby recliner. Bogart straightened slightly without making any sudden movements and studied both men.
“Can I help you?” Bogart asked while looking at the man directly in front of him.
“We’re with the U.S. Marshals,” the man announced with little emotion. “We’re looking for a fugitive.”
“Good for you,” Bogart replied and looked at each man then returned his attention to the first. “Doesn’t explain why you’ve disturbed my nap.”
“This is her house,” the man informed him. “Since you’re sleeping in her house, I’m going to assume you’re acquainted with her.”
“Nope,” Bogart informed him. “I’m just trespassing. House was vacant.”
“Nice try,” the man replied. “Where is she?”
Bogart alternated looking between the two men then flicked a chip from his chest. “I don’t suppose either of you boys has any identification on you. You seem a little well-dressed for U.S. Marshals.”
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