Trust No One (Vista Security)

by Diana Layne

  “You have pain medicine, and you haven’t given me any yet?”

  “I forgot. I told you, I’m out of practice, okay?” When she returned moments later, she offered him a pill. “Here, take this for the pain.”

  He looked at it with narrowed eyes. “What is it?”

  “Tylenol 3, which is merely Tylenol with a little codeine,” she lied. In fact, she was holding a Vicadin, and hopefully he had no allergies to strong pain medicine. She wanted him unconscious not dead. “Harmless. Unless you’re allergic?”

  “Nope, no allergies.”

  “Look here’s the bottle, faster you take it, faster the pain will lower to a dull throb.”

  He examined the Tylenol bottle which was really full of the Vicadin she’d put in there. She figured he’d be suspicious, any good agent would.

  Take it, take it, take it, she thought as he looked at her again. She held his gaze. Then with a shrug, he used the glass of water she offered to take the pill.

  Now pass out.

  “You know the kid can’t go now there’s a shooter involved.”

  “I know.” Her heart seemed to rip. She didn’t know how she was going to make it through the days without Angel.

  Chapter 7

  With Ben on her couch sound asleep, as planned, MJ moved efficiently, cataloguing what needed to be done. She first had to make a call to Dottie, and if she couldn’t watch Angel, then MJ had a problem. Yeah, like that would stop Jeff, she thought. And frowned.

  Resentment churned like dirty hot oil sludging through an old engine. From the time of her parents’ death, MJ’s life had been run by someone else up until she nearly died for Vista. And up until that time MJ had never considered not working for Vista.

  But things changed. If Tasha were on an unsanctioned killing spree obviously things had changed for her as well.

  MJ wondered what had set Tasha off. What had these men done? How were they connected?

  Dialing Dottie’s number, MJ hoped they were back home from the play rehearsal. While the phone rang, she let her mind run through questions about Tasha’s motivation. Had someone betrayed her too? Was she trying in some bizarre fashion to save the world from evil senators? MJ smiled. As if that were likely.

  Should Tasha have retired already like MJ?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Dottie answered the phone. “Hi, Dottie, it’s MJ. Sorry, I’m calling so late.”

  “It’s not late. We just walked in the door. Anything wrong? Angelina’s not sick is she?”

  Considering MJ never called this late, she understood Dottie’s concern.

  “Actually, I need a favor. My sister’s in a bit of trouble, and I need to go to her.” MJ debated on what to tell Dottie, then decided there was no reason not to tell her as much of the truth as possible. Good rule of thumb for lying—stick to the truth as much as you could, so as not to get tripped up later.

  “Oh, well, you’ll need to talk to Tex then, let him know you won’t be at–”

  “I do need to talk to Tex, but I also need to see if you can watch Angel for me. It’ll be a long, hard trip. I think she would be happier in familiar surroundings. I know technically you’re not supposed to keep the kids overnight so if you can’t–”

  “Pshaw. I’ve fudged on that rule plenty of times. What the state don’t know don’t hurt ’em. Besides, I’ve been keeping kids longer than that rule’s been in existence.”

  “I like your attitude,” MJ said. “Angel’s already asleep, but I need to leave right away.”

  “Bundle her in her p.j.’s and come on over.”

  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. I’ll wait to talk to Tex when I get there.”

  MJ grabbed the two go-bags she kept packed in the closet. Old habits died hard. Before she took the bags down to her car, she checked on Ben. His trip to dreamland kept him oblivious to the effect his naked chest was having on her. Just as well. She was trying to ignore the effect herself. She reasoned it was the stark contrast of the white bandage to his dark skin that made him look especially appealing.

  He was so still and silent, she thought she should take his pulse. To make sure he was still alive, of course. She in no way just wanted an excuse to touch him. He didn’t move as she took his wrist.

  Beneath her fingers, his arm roughened with hair felt relaxed, warm, and promised strength even in sleep. It had been so long since she’d touched a man in anything but a most casual handshake at work. With car grease around her fingernails, no one wanted to hold her hand long no matter the miracle she performed on their car. And that was fine by her.

  She didn’t mind the isolation. She told herself hundreds of times she was happier that way.

  Still. As foreign as Ben’s wrist felt in her hand, something appealed to her, triggering a deeply buried, purposely forgotten longing for a companion, a partner in life. A lover.

  The last thought shook her from her reverie.

  She needed no man. Wanted no man. Could trust no man . . . aside from possibly Niko, who had been more than a friend to her over the years.

  Almost throwing Ben’s arm down, she caught herself, laid it gently in his lap, not wanting to risk waking him.

  She grabbed the bags, intending on taking them down first, and then coming back for Angelina. She didn’t want to manipulate both bags and baby.

  As she opened the door, she heard Jenkins on the floor below, talking to old Mrs. Crandall whose words floated up the stairway. “You know, I do think I heard a gunshot,” MJ heard her say. The woman was not only old but deaf. And certainly couldn’t hear a gunshot when there wasn’t more than a thump of the silencer, which MJ hadn’t even heard the first time. The elderly woman was probably excited to have a little drama in her life.

  MJ walked quietly out the door, locked it behind her and hurried down the back stairs. If she were lucky, she’d be gone before he got up to her apartment. If not, nothing she couldn’t handle. Just given their history, she’d rather avoid Officer Jenkins.

  She had no idea he was so ambitious anyway. Taking the initiative to investigate . . . what? What had that man told Jenkins? That he saw a windshield shatter? Definitely not enough for the local cop boy to do.

  She hurried to the parking garage, did a quick scan for Ben’s truck. It took her a moment to locate it over in a corner. He’d parked it facing the wall so it wasn’t immediately evident the windshield was broken. Unfortunately the flat tire was obvious. Still, flats were common enough and shouldn’t alert anyone right away.

  Back in her apartment, MJ taped a spare apartment key, and a note to the door, warning Ben about the snoopy policeman.

  Gathering up Angel’s warm cuddly weight in her arms, MJ paused for one last look at the peacefully sleeping Ben. Long lashes shadowed his dark cheeks. His swarthy dark skin made her wonder if his ancestry was such a hodge-podge. The combination of dark eyes, dark skin, dark lashes, all made a damned appealing package, probably irresistible to many women.

  But not to her.

  “Good bye Sleeping Beauty,” she murmured and closed the door. As she locked it, she heard footsteps on the front stairs. If she hurried to the back stairs–

  Too late. Officer Jenkins saw her. “MJ.”

  Just as well, if he’d knocked on her door and managed to wake up Ben, who in his drugged state might miss her note and open the door, there would be way too many complications. Yes, it was no doubt better that she speak with Jenkins now.

  She turned to face him, noting he looked thinner in his police uniform than he did in a bulkier gi. Still, after their last sparring match, she remembered there was a punch of power in his fist, in spite of his lean physique. When they made eye contact, she placed a finger over her mouth then pointed to her sleeping baby.

  “Trouble?” he asked in a softer voice.

  “No, why?”

  He looked at Angel. “You ask why, given it’s after ten o’clock and you’re going out with your sleeping baby? Need milk for breakfast?” He moved close, forcing he
r to step back against the wall. She didn’t like giving ground, but she didn’t want him near Angel.

  “Is there some problem?”

  “Been report of a possible gunshot.”

  “Really?”

  “You act surprised. I don’t suppose you heard anything.”

  She adjusted Angel in her arms. “Can’t say I did.”

  With the not so subtle intent to intimidate, he placed a hand on the wall beside her head and said, “Can’t say that you didn’t either.”

  His position forced her to look upward. She admitted he wasn’t a bad looking guy, with his sandy brown hair. A sharp nose, flaring now, reminding her disturbingly of a male wolf. Definitely needed to shake the guy off. “Maybe someone heard a car backfiring? That sounds a lot like a gunshot.”

  “Don’t think a car backfiring will break a windshield.”

  “Someone’s windshield was broken?”

  “Looks like it. There’s broken glass on the street in front of your building. Might not be safe for you to be out and about this time of night.”

  “It’s Whiddon. I’ll be careful, but it was probably some kid with a rock.”

  “I better walk you to your car.”

  “No, really–”

  “Not much you can do in the way to defend yourself with a sleeping baby in your arms.”

  He leaned close, his thick lips almost touching her cheek. His dark eyes grew darker at the prospect of something she didn’t even want to imagine leaving her no choice at the moment but to allow him to walk with her. If she protested, he’d no doubt get suspicious, or worse, try to prove his point she was at a severe disadvantage with Angel in her arms.

  His intimidating tactics receding after he got his way, he fell into step beside her. Very close beside her, much to her annoyance.

  “You never did say where you were going,” he said.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You’re making me think you got something to hide.”

  “Maybe I just don’t like nosy cops?”

  “It’s a cop’s business to be nosy.”

  She resisted engaging in a battle of wills with Jenkins. Neither spoke again until they’d walked down the stairs and he opened the door leading to the garage. “I could follow you.”

  “For what reason? Going out with a sleeping baby after ten o’clock isn’t illegal.”

  “But it is suspicious.”

  “You’re bored. This little town has hardly has anything more challenging than lost cats, the occasional domestic spat, and kids breaking curfew.”

  The look on his face said he didn’t like her analysis of his job. Truth hurts. She walked quickly to her car, pulling the keys from her pocket.

  “Here, let me,” he said, taking the keys from her. His fingers brushed hers, from the look on his face, it wasn’t an accident.

  She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on Angel’s blanket and waited in silence until he opened the door. “Thanks.”

  “Always liked this car,” he said, resting his hand on the door. “Even with the girly color.”

  “Lots of tough guys used to drive this car with the girly color. It’s called Playboy Pink.”

  “Yeah, I imagine it was a babe magnet. You don’t drive it much.”

  “I work down the road, no need to drive.”

  It was obvious he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, so she pushed the front seat out of the way and bent over to put Angel in her car seat in the back.

  She felt Officer Jenkins’s eyes on her ass the whole time. She hadn’t changed out of her leggings from earlier and imagined he was getting quite a view. Now, that was disturbing. But better her ass than noticing Ben’s truck. Of course, there was no way he could tie her to the truck.

  She straightened as fast as she could. “I’m all safe now, thanks for your help.”

  “Why don’t you give me a ride up to the street?”

  “I thought you were asking about the supposed gunshot. There’s still my neighbors.”

  “If you, a former trained government professional didn’t hear anything, I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Thomas heard anything either.”

  “Well, okay, get in.” She reached across and unlocked the passenger door, really not happy with the vibes she was getting off the man. Sooner she got rid of him, the better.

  She started the car, noticing his gaze sweeping over the garage before he returned his attention to her. She drove the car up to the street level.

  “I like the look of a baby in your arms.”

  She shot him a look.

  “Rather than seeing your fists flying at me.”

  “Hm, you’re the kind who likes women barefoot and pregnant then?”

  “More like barefoot and just practicing on the getting pregnant part.”

  He allowed her time to process what he said before he reached out to touch her face. “Sorry about your eye.”

  Her mind was still chewing on that practicing part of the sentence, just the thought. Ugh. “Oh, um. . .it’s not too bad. Just part of working out.”

  “Next time we might try a different kind of work out.” He opened his door.

  “A different kind–” She cut herself off when his hand came back to her face. No help for it, he was going to be a bigger prick than usual.

  She leaned away but he kept his hand on her face and brushed his thumb across her lips. “Yeah, the kind where we bang pelvises instead of fists.” He stepped out of the car, bent back inside.

  She’d seen lust in his eyes more than once, but his bold words took her by surprise regardless. This had to be some psychological tactic to mend his wounded he-man pride.

  She realized her mouth was open. She closed it, scrambled for a response to diffuse the horribly awkward moment. “Man, you’ll stoop to any level to beat me won’t you?”

  “Think about it, darlin’. See you next workout.” With a grin he shut the door.

  Ewww, sex with the cop. Double ewww. She’d rather rewire a German-engineered car. But she gave him credit, she would have to work to keep that image out of her mind the next time they sparred.

  Driving down the road to Tex’s, she studied the rearview mirror to see if she were being followed. She forgot about Officer Jenkins and turned back to the ordeal facing her. Bundling Angelina’s body, warm and heavy with sleep, close to her when she took her out of the car seat, MJ squeezed, hoping they would soon be together again. She ignored the hovering feeling that maybe this was the last time she’d see her daughter.

  She walked up to the door and knocked.

  * * *

  Count your blessings. That’s what MJ told herself as she drove away, leaving Angelina behind. At least Angel liked Dottie, and MJ trusted the older woman more than she’d trusted anyone these last few years. Still, she liked the simplicity of working at the garage so resentment pulsed through her at being forced into working at a job she no longer wanted.

  Pain stabbed at her fingers. She realized she gripped the steering wheel tight enough to bust through a rusted bolt. She forced her muscles to relax, raised and lowered her fingers, wiggling each one around to push blood back into circulation.

  She stopped at a 24-hour chain gas station. Thank goodness even small towns had pay at the pump, because this was the last time she planned on using her credit card. This time wouldn’t draw attention to anyone watching for her credit card activity since it was local. There was always the thought someone might follow her to Tasha.

  MJ didn’t plan to leave an easy electronic trail for anyone to follow so she still had to make one last stop at the ATM to withdraw cash. That, combined with cash she had stashed in her go-bag, should last her a few days. When she’d been in the business, she’d had fake ID’s and matching credit cards. No longer having those resources, she had to rely on good old-fashioned money. Quaint.

  As she headed out of town, MJ tried to think like Tasha—where should she start? MJ decided to head for Ed’s house. Ed was the only thing she and Tasha ever had in common. After
her adopted dad retired, he and his wife Lauryn had moved from the hectic life outside of D.C. to a small town in Indiana. The movie and book Bridges of Madison County had inspired their move, since Lauryn loved the story. She had even agreed when Ed bought a vacation cabin in rural Indiana, even though Lauryn was definitely not the outdoorsy, cabin type. With a husband gone so much, MJ wondered if Ed’s wife had ever dreamed of having an affair with a photographer just passing through town.

  Or if the peaceful, slower-paced life was the attraction. Peace and quiet, that was the kind of life MJ craved. The sort of life she would have with Angelina once the adoption was final. With no need to look over her shoulder.

  After years in the business, MJ had saved quite a sizeable nest egg, safe and secure in several foreign accounts. And like her money, did she want to be safe and secure in a foreign land with her daughter? If she moved out of the states, she definitely wouldn’t have to worry about being called back into service for Vista like now.

  Something to consider.

  MJ adjusted her position, stretched her neck, and mentally psyched herself up for the fifteen hour drive. It had been a long time since she’d pulled an all-nighter. Even the one time Angelina had been sick through the night, MJ had been able to nap. To make it through this night, she was going to have to stop at a fast food place soon for a shot of caffeine.

  Of course, it would be faster to fly to Indiana, but airports left paper trails. And they had all those bothersome anti-terror rules now about carrying weapons, which while necessary, was nothing more than a big pain.

  Even renting a car was too risky since the rental places wanted a life history. Besides, she’d much rather drive her own little restored Playboy Pink ’67 Mustang. The shiny pink colored car had turned more than one head in town, and true, it might turn a few heads on the road too, but she trusted her own car more than any other option on such a short notice.

  She patted the steering wheel with a touch of pride. This would be the first time she’d taken the car on a road trip since she completed rebuilding the 289 high-performance V8 engine. So if she were a total Pollyanna and looked on the bright side—taking this enforced trip would test out her mechanic work.